Forest Trees and Forest Scenery

by G. Frederick Schwarz

The reader may be surprised at the statement that coniferous forests are distinguished for a “dense community of growth,” for it must have been noticed that many of our Rocky Mountain forests do not bear evidence of this fact. And yet it is true that the typical habit, so to speak, of the conifers is a close huddling together of individuals. It is shown in the massive red fir forests of western Washington and the redwoods of California, which are probably the densest and heaviest in the world; in the crowded Engelmann spruce and alpine fir groves common to certain soils and situations in Colorado; and in the dense tracts of lodgepole pine scattered throughout the mountains of the West. In the East the same tendency is illustrated by the better sections of the Adirondack spruce forests and the splendid pineries that once covered the Great Lake region. If we call to mind these extensive examples, we realize how the conifers ever strive to build a dense and impenetrable forest. That they are capable of a like growth in other parts of the world also, will be attested by those who have seen the spruce and fir forests of Germany and France.

While the regions that have just been mentioned exhibit the health and vigor of coniferous forests under favorable natural conditions, there are certain portions of the Rocky Mountains where the climate is too dry and the topography and soil are too austere and rocky to suit even that hardy class of trees. So here, under circumstances that may almost be pronounced abnormal for forest growth, the evergreens fight a harder battle, while the broadleaf trees, with the exception of the poplar tribe, are scarce indeed. We must, therefore, turn to the more typical coniferous forests that have enjoyed at least a fair share of nature’s gifts—whether it be within the range of the Rocky Mountains or elsewhere—to understand those peculiar qualities that are connected with their surroundings or their characteristic habits of growth.

One of the commonest attributes of such forests is their grandeur; partly inherent and in part also derived from the sublimity of their surroundings. Their situation is often in the midst of wild and picturesque mountain scenery, where they find a proper setting for their own majestic forms among crags and precipices and on the great shoulders of mountains; where powerful winds and severe snows test their endurance and strength. It is here that we chiefly find those awe-inspiring distant views that harmonize so well with the evergreen forests. The trees spread over the mountains for miles and miles in closely fledged masses, and become more impressive with distance as the color changes from a continuity of dark green to shades of blue and soft, distant purple. In form and color the trees blend together and seem to move up the dangerous slopes and difficult passes in mighty multitudes.

Courtesy of the Bureau of Forestry

Mount Rainier. Washington

Contributing to the same impression of grandeur, we have the possibility in these lofty regions of certain glorious effects in sunlight and shade. At sunrise the first rays flash on the pointed tops of the uppermost trees, and with the advancing hours descend the dark slopes on their golden errand. Meanwhile the western sides lie in shadow. At noon a soft haze spreads through the valleys, and in the twilight hours the intense depth of purple in the distant ranges, where stratus clouds catch the last rays of the sun, obscures the contours of the forests and makes them even more sublime. This, too, were not possible without great mass and uniformity of aspect.

The interchange between lights and shadows cast by the moving clouds is nowhere so effectively exhibited as in higher altitudes and over the surfaces of evergreen forests. A wide expanse enables us to follow with our eyes the interesting chase of the cloud shadows, as they fly up the slopes, the steeper the faster, and glide noiselessly but swiftly over outstretched areas of endless green. The clouds seem to move faster over mountain ranges, as a rule, than they do over the low valleys. Or is it only because now we see them nearer by and can gage the rapidity of their flight?

Suppose, instead of a restless day, it should be calm, with cloud masses heaped in the sky and the sun sinking low. There has been a loose snowfall in the afternoon, and every twig, branch, and spray hangs muffled in snow. The rocks are capped with a light cover and ribbed with snowy lines along their sides. The air is pure and breathless. The disappearing sun sends back a rosy light to the canopy of clouds overhead, and the reflection falls upon masses of frosted, whitened evergreens, lending them a breath of color that deepens as the sun sinks lower still; and the rays enter the openings of the hills and flood the opposite slopes, till they glow with a fiery red.