Page 24 of Timber Ridge
“It’s not much.”
“It’s everything.” I yank her in for a hug. She stands there stiffly until I let her go, and then she dashes out the door. It would seem that Port Promise isn’t used to someone as overtly affectionate as me.
I walk to the front of the class. “Let’s get ready to explore!”
Even early, excitement hums in the air for our outdoor adventure.
With supplies in hand, we head out of the community center and onto the trail that winds through the nearby woods. Along the way, I point out different plants and wildlife that I recognize. Many of the plants I see are only familiar because of my mother’s journal, which makes me more convinced she spent time here. I point out the bushy bundles of leaves growing nearly everywhere on the path and tell the kids that they can eat the fireweed raw or cooked. When we come across stalks of wild rhubarb, I tell them to never eat the leaves.
“What happens if you eat the leaves?” Lucas asks.
“I imagine your stomach wouldn’t like that, so never eat them and only eat the stalks when they are cooked.”
We continue on the trail and walk past the cabin. Three of the four walls stand, but the roof is completely gone, and the inside is gutted. From the path, I can make out the stove and the skeleton of the metal bed frame. It hurts seeing it this way. When I first came, it wasn’t much to look at, but in the two days I was there, I began to appreciate it for what it was—a piece of the town’s history. Sadly, the chipped plate will no longer be witness to anything.
I turn to look at the kids, who are bent over, looking at something in the mud just off the wooden path.
“What did you find there?”
The kids shift and make room for me. What they’re looking at shocks me. Right there in the yard of the cabin I was staying at is the biggest animal print I’ve ever seen. It’s at least twice the size of my hand.
Lucas points to where a toe is missing from the print. I assumed its walk was off kilter.
“That’s Old Grizzletoe. He got caught in a trap once and left behind a toe with some of his gold fur attached. No one has ever been able to catch him.”
“Gold fur?” My research says that most of the bears here are black bears, but I imagine they have variations in color.
“Cool, right?” Lucas says, and the little ones nod.
“We should head back.” The last thing I need is to leave behind a legacy as the teacher who saw the signs and didn’t heed them.
“He’s not going to bother us. We are four people.” Lucas looks at Hailey and Tommy. “What did we learn about bear attacks this year?”
Tommy stands tall. “They hardly happen.”
Hailey raises her hand. “If you make lots of noise with our kind of bears, you’ll scare them away.”
I try to remember what I learned. Brown, lay down and pretend you’re dead. Black, attack, meaning make yourself as big and noisy as possible. Grizzlies are another story altogether. If you run into one of them, you’re most likely the next meal.
Since there are no brown bears or grizzlies on Prince of Wales Island, Old Grizzletoe must be a black bear who’s gold. As I measure the logic in my brain against the risk, I realize that our group of four would probably be a deterrent, and I decide to move on with our day. Bears are a daily challenge for those who live here. They can’t be a huge threat, or someone would have warned me.
“Who is up for looking for Devil’s Club for May?”
All hands raise, and I explain how to spot it, but I warn them not to touch it. “Who will be the first to find it?”
Fifteen minutes later, Tommy hoots and hollers, jumping up and down like he got six spots that matched on a lottery ticket. “Is that it?”
We rush over to check out the plant. “That’s it, Tommy. It may look prickly, but it has some incredible medicinal properties,” I explain. “It’s been used for generations by the indigenous people of Alaska for everything from treating sore muscles to boosting the immune system.”
I put on Kane’s gloves and show the kids how to harvest the shoots, emphasizing the importance of being careful around the sharp spines. Everyone seems to hold their breath while I snap off a sizeable length and clear the thorns with the scissors I brought along. When it is safe to hold gloveless, the kids pass it around.
As the morning turns to noon, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. Not only are we contributing to Old Danny’s health and wellness, but we’re also learning.
Lunchtime hits, and I open the jar of Nutella. I realize I’m not being a great role model by eating sweets for a meal but everything I bought to make sandwiches was destroyed in the fire. I’m just grateful it was a few grocery items and some clothes that can be replaced. The biggest loss was the cabin and, of course, my Kindle. Some people lose everything when tragedy strikes. I grabbed what was irreplaceable. The rest can be ordered online or purchased at Rhys’s store.
As I watch the kids unpack their lunches, a pang of envy washes over me. How I’d love to have even just a simple sandwich or a bag of chips right now. I’m considering plucking a handful of fireweeds when Hailey brings over food.
“Ms. Moore, Daddy packed lunch for us.” Hailey shows me two sandwiches, chips, and juices. She hands me one of the sandwiches, pointing to the sticky note attached to it. “This one’s yours because it has your name.”