Standing stately on this mountain top, I see them coming closer every day.  All I can do is watch as the butchers with their sharp toothed saws kill everyone I have ever known. They take even our young, leaving only the weak and the maimed among us to carry on.  There are so many creatures here that depend on the strength of the elders, to keep them safe and warm.  The bitter cold is quickly approaching.  Where will they go? Unable to find food or even build a warm winters shelter, how will they survive? 

     From here, I can see the cruel fires that the butchers light, filling the air with smoke and cinders, unaware of the panic and fear that they cause among those who live here.  Day after day, I stand solemnly watching the mass exodus of families that have lived here in harmony for generations.  I am all too aware that my days here … are also numbered.

     Two Hundred and three years I have lived on this mountain and have given food and shelter to many.  Even now, in my old age there are those who depend on me … the rabbit family who have made their home and raised many little ones at my feet.  The Robins, whose arrival every spring, confirms that another desolate winter has past, when they set about building their nest in the lower limbs overlooking the valley to the south.  Even Mr. Hawk who soars majestically high overhead on outstretched wings diligently watching all, will have to find another home soon.

     Most of the seeds my mother dropped the year that I sprouted were caught by the winds and swept down the mountain side.  They became food for the animals that depended on them to survive the harsh Canadian winter.  I was one of the lucky ones I fell close to her and was sheltered under her massive limbs where I was able to grow straight and tall, until a spring mudslide sent her toppling down the mountain over a hundred and