s standpoint there is no doubt that
their conduct to-day is admirable. Viewed from this angle they are great
playgrounds, and as in Oregon alone the national forests embrace an
astounding total of more than sixteen million acres, their importance to
the recreationist is evident. On the doors of the ranger stations are
signs which read: "Property of the United States. For the use of
officers of the Forest Service." Leaving off the trespass warning which
concludes the text of the cloth notices, one might change the other
sentence thus: "For the use of whomever enjoys out-of-doors"; then you
would have the meaning of the Western forest reserves in a nutshell, so
far as campers are concerned.
If you are a settler who unsuccessfully seeks "elimination" of a
homestead on the ground that it is "more valuable for agricultural
purposes than for timber," or a timber speculator, or even a mill owner
desirous of cheap logs, your enthusiasm for "conservation" may be a
negligible quantity. Certainly if you are a vote-seeker you will damn it
whenever opportunity affords, for that is politically fashionable, and
always safe--unlike woman suffrage, prohibition, and tariff questions;
conservation is an architectural phenomenon, for it is a fence with only
one side in a West whose people consider themselves robbed of their
heritage of natural wealth, which most of them are all for turning into
dollars as fast as logging-roads and band-saws can contrive. "To-day for
to-day; let the morrow care for itself," they say. But if you are merely
a foolish camper, with a secret dread of the time when the old earth
will be divested totally of her timber covering, you may actually be
grateful for the manner in which the reserves are administered. Your
playground is cared for and guarded and improved. Maps, often accurate,
are obtainable. The trails are well blazed and well kept, and new trails
and roads are constantly being installed for the double purpose of
making the forests more accessible to the public and to simplify fire
fighting.
For above all, of course, the great good work is the ceaseless battle
against fire--now far more one of prevention than of extinction. Visible
and arresting signs of the fire-war are encountered everywhere--notices
warning against the risks and losses of forest fires, exhortations on
the criminal dangers of leaving camp-fires burning, reminders to the
smokers about forgotten cigarettes. These, and a score more, st
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