The Tale of the Birch Toad

 

At first glance, it seemed to be the stump of an old Yellow Birch tree.  The long roots that grew straight up above the ground before meeting the trunk, left an empty space between them.  Yellow Birch like to start their young lives in the stump of a fallen tree and they grow their roots around the edge of the stump, down into the ground.  Over time, the nursery stump rots, leaving an empty space and making the tree look like it is standing on legs.  And now, the birch that grew on the stump, was a stump itself.   The top of it had rotted and had been chiseled and sculpted by woodpeckers so that a long face appeared, there in what was left of the trunk.  It looked for all the world like a giant toad propped up on its front legs, resting on its huge hind ones and looking straight at her.

The fact that Anna’s vision was not, shall we say, crystal clear, created an interesting collection of neural impulses that her cataracted eyes sent to her aging brain.  It was like some kind of a game.  “Oh, I know,” suggested the brain.  “It’s a giant toad!”  She laughed at that suggestion but then thought, “Whose to say it isn’t?”

She sat down on a fallen log nearby and gazed at the Birch Toad.  What if it isn’t just a tree?  What if it’s a giant toad that lived long ago, or perhaps still lives, but is trapped in the body of a tree, or it sleeps, waiting for a kiss, like the Frog Prince, in order to trans mutate into something else?

It was then that she heard the deep voice.  It was a little gravely as if it hadn’t been used in a long while.  At first, she couldn’t make out what it said as her ears worked about as well as her eyes.  But, it came again. 

“Yes, you’ve hit on it.”

Intrigued, she leaned forward, trying to remember what she had thought.  “Then, you are a giant toad?” she asked.

“No.  The one after that,” said the voice.

“You aren’t really a toad?”

“No.  And I’m not really a tree,” came the reply

“Tell me about that,” she said.

“It’s a long story and | haven’t told it in a long time.  You are the first person that has asked.”

“I have the time.  I have nothing but time,” she offered.

“I know the feeling.  Perhaps you can sit a little closer.”

Thinking that she had nothing to fear, she moved to a stump that was closer to the Birch-toad-not-toad-something-else and leaned forward, elbows on her knees and chin resting on her hands.

“Very well, I shall begin,” croaked the voice.

“Before now, before all of this strangeness, this land was covered in trees and many, many different plants.  The river behind us was deeper and there were many animals that lived here.  I don’t know all the names that you would use for these animals, but I will send you pictures of them.”

Suddenly, the image of a deer popped into her mind.  And then a fox, a wolf, squirrel, chipmunk, porcupine, fisher, otter, weasel, mink, lynx, hundreds of birds, wild turkeys, salmon, trout and other fish, flowers, plants, insects, butterflies, crawling bugs and more. The pictures flashed through her mind. The forest was thick and green and the mighty trees towered overhead.

“Oh,” she gasped.  “So, beautiful.”

The voice paused to acknowledge her emotion.  Then it continued, “The people who lived here with us took only what they needed.  They always showed respect.  They gave back and they took care of the forest.  We didn’t mind sharing with them.  We were happy to provide for their needs.  We had treaties, relationships and we honored them as did they.  This was all we knew.

Until,” the voice paused slightly, “strangers appeared in the forest.  We were willing to share with them, to care for them, to provide for them.  But, they never spoke to us.  They took but were never satisfied.  They began by cutting down the trees.  Not just a few for housing or firewood, but all of them.  The animals and birds lost their homes and had to flee.  They killed many of them as well.  The river was full of branches and broken trees.  The water tried to wash away their pain, but it was too much and it backed up, flooding the land.  As the trees disappeared, these strangers dug up the soil and turned it over, killing all the other plants.  They burned the tree stumps and killed the tiny creatures in the soil.  This soil is sandy and without the roots to hold it, it blew away when the winds came..  Some animals disappeared from here.”

At this, images of Wild Turkeys, Trumpeter Swans and Canada Geese flashed in her mind.  Yes, she knew they had been extirpated years ago and then later reintroduced.

“Once they found out that the land was not good for their desires, many of the strangers ran away just like the animals and the soil.  But, I had to stay.  I had to hide and to wait.  That was a very lonely time and there weren’t very many places to hide, but I always found somewhere."

"After some time, different people came here and planted tiny trees.  They seemed to lack imagination, or maybe they didn’t know how things used to be.  Those who did the damage, those who remembered what it was like when they first came were all dead by then.  The original people remembered but they were taken away and silenced.  The new planters liked straight lines and sameness.  The trees did hold the soil down with their roots and some other plants grew as well but it wasn’t like it used to be.  The first strangers left plants that they had brought with them from far away and these plants joined the forest.  Some of those plants did not know how to cooperate with the life that was already here.  They were confused about how to fit in, just like the people who brought them here."

"I couldn’t stay in the new forest.  I had to move around, to find places of shelter.  I couldn’t leave because, you see, I hold the memory of this land.  I hold the stories and the knowledge.  I haven’t always been where you find me now.  There have been other trees that provided a safe space.  Over time, this area that you are in, listened to me and remembered itself.  The birds and animals brought the seeds for the trees that grew and protected the soil.  The wind helped to bring more seeds for the other plants and the animals followed.  The trees protected the river bank and created rain so that the river kept on running.  It has taken time but the land is healing.”

“Yes, it is very beautiful in this part of the forest,” agreed Anna.  “But, the other part, with all the pines growing in straight lines is having trouble.  Not much grows underneath those pine trees.”

“Those people keep on cutting down those pine trees now that they are tall,” resumed the voice.  “And they are not planting new ones.  They are letting the other trees fill in the gaps.  The pine needles are not very friendly to most trees, but slowly that part of the land is remembering as well.  It takes time to heal such wounding.”

The woman felt the sadness of the wounding, as if it were happening in her own body and she sighed.  “Thank you for telling me this story,” she said.  “I didn’t know about what happened here.”  She paused, listening for the voice.  She felt that it was waiting for her to say something.  But what?   Then it came to her.  “Is there anything you would like me to do as a person, to help the forest?” she asked.

“Thank you for asking,” said the voice.  “As a matter of fact, there is.  I have been trying to get your attention for a few weeks now as you walk by.  I can tell that you love the land.  The relationship between people and this land needs to heal.  The land needs to experience respect and reciprocity with people.  I have watched you make an offering to the river and certain trees.  I have watched you ask permission before you pick the wild leeks, garlic mustard and dandelion leaves and give something back.  I can tell that those plants have honoured you by the energy that you have around you."

"This is what you can do.  You can walk this land every day that you can, in all kinds of weather.  You can greet each new plant and tree that emerges and tell them how beautiful they are.  You can learn their names, and the order that they appear in the spring.  You can watch them create flowers and seeds and learn their patterns.  You can sing to them as you sing to the river.  There is a lot of healing to do and you are not the only one.  It will take as long as it takes.  And of course, the forest will take care of you as it always has.  It will offer you surprises and gifts, healing resins to breath in and plants to nourish you.  Every breath you take in has been breathed out by the trees and they breathe in your breath.  As you learn more about reciprocity with the land, you can share this with other people.  That is what is needed.”

“I can do that,” she said, nodding her head slowly. 

“I will be watching,” said the voice.  “And I will be here if you have any questions.  That’s my job.”

In the silence that followed, Anna sat on the stump and breathed in the breath of trees and then breathed out the gas that they breathed in.  A sudden movement on the trail before her snapped her focus into the present.  Bending over, she spied a small brown toad sitting still before her.  She burst out laughing and the toad hopped into the undergrowth and disappeared. And then she continued down the trail, singing.  She couldn’t hear it with her old ears, but the low voice echoed her song, sending healing waves out through the massive root structures beneath her feet.