Volume 12 Issue 2 (Spring 2019)
“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” ~Margaret Atwood

Glorious Spring
The return of warm weather and green colors is always inspiring. In fact, if you’re not
thrilled by the annual miracle that’s going on all around us, you’ve entered a dark, dark
path, my friend. This spring there are lots of events on campus to motivate you to
protect and enjoy the natural world.
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Nature and War Panel Discussion (Monday, April 22, 7-8 pm, Hall of Flags): Dr.
Heather Bechtold, Dr. Md. Khalequzzaman, and Dr. Bob Myers will be
discussing the impact of war on the environment. This event is part of the
Global Honors Program’s global theme and is open to the entire university
community.
Professor Edmund Russell on “War and Nature”: The talk, which is free and
open to the public, will be based on Russell’s book, War and Nature: Fighting
Humans and Insects with Chemicals from World War I to Silent Spring. According to
Cambridge University Press, “War and Nature combines discussion of
technology, nature, and warfare to explain the impact of war on nature and vice
versa.”
Nature Trail Work Day (Saturday, May 4, 9am-1pm): We will meet in front of
Robinson to begin our annual clean-up and work day on the trail. Contact Bob
Myers (rmyers3@lockhaven.edu) if you’re interested in participating.

In any case, I hope you get out and enjoy the beauty of central Pennsylvania and return
with a commitment to protecting that beauty.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 2

Can’t See the Stream for the Trees
~Heather Bechtold (LHU Biology Professor)
The expression “you can’t see the forest for the trees” is used when someone is too
involved in the details of a problem to
look at the situation as a whole. I try to
remember this as an ecosystem ecologist,
that the function of individual processes
does not necessarily reflect the function of
holistic processes. From the perspective of
a stream this is worth noting, especially as
we eagerly await the melting of snow and
ice, the bright purple crocus poking their
tiny faces through the hardened ground
and the first waving blooms of daffodils
and tulips signaling spring is near. If we
look at the trees, we see the arrival of
furry catkins on willows, buds enlarging
on the branch tips of magnolia and
dogwoods, and maples beginning to
display a faint color of muted green
throughout their canopies. The forests
near Lock Haven house massive numbers
of trees which are just starting to turn on,
bud out, and begin to make a tremendous amount of biomass, and some of those trees
are old growth.
Not a welcomed change?
This change in the season, and that tremendous amount of biomass, bring a different set
of changes to the streams that flow through our forests. Light is an important source of
energy to the stream. Sunlight that reaches the stream fuels growth of algae and plants
living in the water. With new leaves forming on trees, light is now blocked from these
streams and this then slows algal growth. Algae, yes the green slime on the rocks,
conduct an important ecosystem service. Not only do algae provide food for
invertebrates like mayflies and produce oxygen for fish, they balance out the nutrient
content of the stream. Because algae use nutrients to grow, they remove nutrients. This
ecosystem service (nutrient removal) slows in the summer when light is limited and
more nutrients flow downstream.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 3

Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing
It was hard for me to think that nutrients were both good and bad. Too many nutrients
can cause out of control algal and bacterial blooms that deplete oxygen, and ruin habitat
for fish and other organisms. On the flipside, not having enough nutrients causes
problems too. Nutrient poor streams often are as lifeless as distilled water.
Seeing the light for the stream
Because more light can stimulate algae to grow (as long as other resources like nutrients
are available) forests can change how streams take up nutrients. Brighter forests with
openings in the canopies can stimulate algae to grow, leaves falling into streams can
create habitat and food. Brighter forests and leaves feed the stream by stimulating
invertebrates and fish to grow.
Old growth forests tend to be brighter and have healthier streams too. Old growth
forests (300+ years) have been shaped by ice storms and forceful winds that knocked
down trees and created gaps in the canopy. These gaps allow light to trickle down into
the otherwise dark forest floor, and illuminate the stream flowing by. Much like a
seasoned banker, mature forests have had time to develop a well rounded forest
‘portfolio’ made up of many different tree species of differing ages. This architectural
complexity not only safeguards a financial future by helping forests be more resistant to
disease and pests, but complexity is also good for the stream because it allows light
patches to come through.
The multiple layers of canopies (and gaps) in older forests allow more light to reach
streams and increase algal growth which results in….retention of more nutrients. Thus,
preserving old growth patches in forests and woodlands actually help balance the flow
of nutrients to downstream water bodies. More old growth = more light = more
nutrients being retained.
As the weather warms and flowering trees bloom (perhaps even on the old growth
trees), keep your eye on the patches of light reaching the forest floor and give some
thought to ecosystem services that the stream has been doing all winter long. You can
even catch a glimpse of remnant patches of Hemlock and Tamarack old growth in
nearby Cranberry Swamp, Bucktail State Park Natural Area and Burns Run to name a
few. I suppose a better question then should be- can you see the stream for the trees?

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 4

Let’s Go For a Ride
~Marchal Rote (LHU Facilities Planning & Scheduling Coordinator)
Ever since I was a little girl, I fondly recall the
many rides my parents would take me and
my brother. We would hop in the old blue
Dodge truck, grab an ice cream and away we
would go to find the next adventure. There
wasn’t a dirt road within 30 miles of Lock
Haven that we hadn’t explored over the years.
Sometimes we would have a destination—
other times we would just go to see how
many deer or turkey we could see. If we were
really lucky, we would see bear or
rattlesnakes. For night time rides, we would
head to open fields that often-times were
overflowing with deer feeding. My dad had
his favorite silver spotlight he would plug
into the cigarette lighter and then mom would
shine it over the fields to the delight of our oohs and ahhs.
It is amazing what you see when you venture off the paved highways and take a more
scenic route. Just in Clinton County alone, there are hundreds of miles of unpaved
roads you don’t need 4-wheel drive to navigate. Some roads have actually been
upgraded and maintained because of the Marcellus shale industry and their equipment
needing access to remote locations. Since our family spends so much time in the PA
Wilds we were very concerned about the damage the gas industries may be causing.
Fortunately, for where we go on the
backroads, when they are finished
tapping the wells off, they replant all but a
certain part of the parcel originally
cleared. The dead trees and topping from
the clearings become rich habitat for small
animals.
Even after the years flew by and my
brother and I grew into adults, lucky for
both of us, we married people who share
the love of “going for rides” as much as we do. No matter the time of year, we try to
get out and see what new things we might discover.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 5

One of our favorite rides is Beech Creek Mountain Road to Rt.
144 to Jews Run Road. At the end of Jews Run Road there is a
view that takes your breath away. It overlooks the
Susquehanna River at the tail end of Huff Run. It is not a
surprise to see many flocks of turkey with their baby chicks or
does with their fawn. If you go early enough and it is still
cool you can witness hundreds of spider webs just glistening
in the morning sun.

In the summer, we love rides when the Mountain
Laurel is in full bloom and all you can see across the
forest floor all the colors of white and pink mixed in
with the stunning greens. Eagleton Road off the
Renovo Road is a good spot or if you do prefer a
paved road then take Route 664 across the bridge at
Jay Street in Lock Haven. If you keep going on
Route 44 you can find your way to the Black Forest
Inn for a nice meal and a cold drink.

When the weather starts to turn a little crisp and
the colors begin their magical appearance, let the
outdoor beckon you to take an afternoon and
enjoy the stunning splendor of fall at the Hyner
View lookout or Lebo Vista. You can take paved
roads to get most of the way, but why not veer off
and explore those backroads a little and see what
you can see. You may even witness hang gliders
jumping off the side of the mountain.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 6

If you want to venture a little farther then why not go clear to
Benezette, PA to the Elk Viewing Center and be amazed at the
elk you may see. If you take a little walk and are quiet enough,
you may even hear them bugle.

When the snow starts to fly and you feel like
the walls are closing in, don’t despair, there
are still plenty of nice drives you can take on
paved roads or backroads. The ice
formations along the Renovo Road are
stunning, and if the snow melts off the roads
enough for safe travel, try Lower Pine
Bottom road between Waterville and Fin Fur
and Feather. There is a native trout steam
that affords nice little water falls and nature’s
own sculptures of ice.
My reason for writing this article is to let you know that within minutes you can
discover a lot that the Lock Haven area has to offer, and this is just from the comfort of
your car or truck. Get out and explore. Always prepare and put safety first, but go
ahead get off the couch and “Let’s Go For a Ride.”
Sport and the Environment: An Odd Couple?
~Dain TePoel (LHU Sport Studies Professor)
In the Spring 2018 issue of the Hemlock, LHU Geology Professor Md. Khalequzzaman
asked the question, “Is the U.S. a sustainable society?” We might ask the same about the
functions of sport. Though a major part of society, culture, and the global economy,
sports often fall outside the purview of the public’s thinking when it comes to questions
of labor, politics, and social issues, let alone nature and the environment. “Stick to
sports” is a common refrain from those who view athletes purely as entertainers
offering escapism for consumption. But sport, like all human activities, is neither
separate from the environment nor immune from the responsibility to protect it.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 7

According to David Chernushenko, author of Greening Our Games, the daily operations
of professional sports leagues and organizations create massive carbon footprints
throughout their supply chains, including the chemical, energy, food, plastics, textiles,
and transportation industries. For example, consider the National Hockey League,
which just started its two-month long postseason. Per the “2014 NHL Sustainability
Report,” a single game in the NHL produces 408 metric tons of carbon dioxide
emissions and consumes 247,746 gallons of water. An average team’s regular season air
travel creates 3,136 metric tons of CO2. Scaled to an entire season for all 30 teams (at
that time – the NHL now has 31), the combined CO2 footprint from games and air
travel results in a sizable 595,920 metric tons of CO2, roughly 13 percent of an average
U.S. coal plant’s annual CO2 production in 2005. The water use for the NHL over an
entire season translates into approximately 305 million gallons, which is enough to fill
462 Olympic-sized swimming pools.
Switching gears to the
National Football League, in
2013 the Wall Street Journal
reported that game day at
Cowboys Stadium in Texas
consumes more electricity
than the country of Liberia
on a typical day. Indeed,
examples such as these show
that sport results in
disproportionate
consumption of raw
materials, draining of local water supplies, and challenges related to waste disposal.
In the early 2000s, leaders in the sport industry demonstrated an increasing awareness
of sport-related environmental problems, such as the toll of recurring spectacles such as
the Super Bowl, FIFA World Cup, and the Olympics. The formation of the Green Sports
Alliance in 2011 seemed to mainstream the relevancy of sport’s impact on the
environment. Specific sports and leagues turned inward and looked at their own
contributions, such as the risks golf and motor car racing pose to wildlife, natural
habitats, ecosystems and public health. With climate change and other instances of
environmental devastation increasingly grabbing the headlines, in 2015 sport
management scholars Jonathan Casper and Michael Pfahl argued that any “successful
sport organization now has to incorporate environmental concerns into their business
strategy, while all sport managers must understand how to implement environmental
initiatives into their everyday business.”

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 8

Of course, the practices that qualify as “green,” “sustainable,” or “social responsibility”
in relation to facilities, operations, marketing, digital media and strategic planning are
fiercely debated by sport managers, activists, environmental advocates, scholars, NGOs,
regulators, and others. It is difficult to discern where to begin an engagement with sport
and the environment. With the impact of practices such as fracking on physical activity,
or sustainable development at the Olympics? The sustainability efforts of athletic
departments at colleges and universities, or golf course management? The corporate
partnerships between sports leagues and the fossil fuel industry, or the attachment of
runners to water charity causes? In addition to these practical choices, a core
philosophical tension and struggle emerges wherever one decides to focus on
environmental issues related to sports. As Kyle Bunds and Casper wrote in the Sociology
of Sport Journal in 2018, critical examinations of the connections between sport and the
environment should consider what ought to be, not just what is, in addressing
environmental concerns “in ways that benefit all community members.”
Too often, green solutions are greener in terms of the economic bottom line and
technological innovation than they are for the environment or socially marginalized
communities. Leading sport organizations often stress achieving environmental
sustainability through the development of “clean” technologies and catering to the
desires of consumers. From an environmental justice perspective, it is important to note
that race and gender can impact differential opportunities to interact with the built and
natural environment. Similarly,
environmental hazards such as exposure
to toxic chemicals and air pollution
disproportionately impact the poor and
people of color. The concerns of these
stakeholders, as well as nonhuman
nature, are often slighted in the greening
practices, policies, and procedures of the
sport industry. Regardless, an
environmentally conscious and critical
approach to the management of sport and the sport industry can make a difference. The
environmental problems associated with sport did not materialize overnight. They
cannot be remedied by isolating the problems associated with a single area, such as
facility construction, soil and water pollution, or overconsumption, or those linked with
a particular segment of the sport industry, such as ski resorts, golf, or mega-events.
Proactive efforts to address each of these are needed. If we borrow core approaches
from the field of environmental history, there is also a need to focus attention on the
influence of the environment on sport; the environmental changes caused by human

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 9

activities through sport; and the patterns of human thought about the environment that
have motivated actions in sport.
For example, how have environmental conditions such as natural landscapes, climate,
ecosystems, air, water, and exposure to harmful substances historically delimited the
range of available sporting opportunities? How have changes in climate and the loss of
natural habitats and spaces over time made participating in sport more difficult?
Currently, winter sports such as skiing, snowboarding, ice skating, and hockey are
perhaps the most obvious examples, as rising global temperatures affect the required
mountain snow cover and freezing of lakes and ponds that make these outdoor sports
possible. In turn, participation in sport through the use of equipment, apparel, and
facilities has also impacted the natural environment. These effects are magnified
through the operations of the global sport industry, to which we might add the impacts
of noise and light pollution on humans and wildlife; soil erosion from stadium
construction; and the generation of substantial waste in optimizing sport’s
commercialization and commodification.
Human attitudes towards the environment have also fostered environmental
despoliation. Toby Miller contends that sport organizations have legitimized many of
these harms by promoting themselves as good environmental citizens, while
simultaneously giving extractive corporations the positive image associated with the
pleasures and entertainment of the social aspects surrounding sports. Heavy polluters
use their affiliation with sports to show they care about local places and people, even as
their actions further economic divides, distract attention from environmental misdeeds,
and give primacy to international sports over local, community health and recreation.
Nevertheless, sports paradoxically symbolize and embody domination, scientific
management, and the dislike of others, alongside an embrace of collaboration,
spontaneity, and teamwork. Miller notes that sports are there for all of us to lay claim
to, unpredictable and violent, ordinary and transcendent, they are sites of elite
performance and backyard glory.
Despite statistics such as those from a 2017 study by Yale University that indicate 70%
of U.S. citizens believe global warming is happening, only 53% believe it is caused
mostly by human activities. Moreover, the Pew Research Center found in 2016 that as
many as 75% of people in the U.S. are concerned about the environment as they go
about their daily lives. Germany’s largest market research institute, in a 2017 study of
people in 18 countries, found that 34% of respondents ranked environmental pollution
as one of their top three concerns – up 26% from 2011. Sport, at the nexus of society,
politics, economy, and the media, plays a role in the disjuncture between the rising level

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 10

of concern and the level of inaction or will to reverse trends wreaking significant
environmental havoc.
When it comes to sport’s impact on the environment, it will be up to all of us to decide
how we choose to use the passion that sport incites, how to steward the attachment
sport gives us to specific people, creatures, places and spaces, and ultimately, to
determine how sport can fit in harmoniously with the natural world and all its
inhabitants.
Pennsylvania’s Whooping Crane Nexus
~Earle F. Layser (Retired Environmental Consultant and USDA Forest Service)
Peter Matthiessen, who was once entitled “the poet laureate of nature writing,” called
cranes “the birds of heaven;” the most ancient of all birds, and sacred to many, Aldo
Leopold, likened their time immemorial migrations to “the clicking of the geological
clock.”
Heeding the primordial call of the crane, this
author has traveled to Aransas National
Wildlife Refuge several times to observe
whooping cranes wintering on the Texas salt
marshes. More than just “things with wings,”
they are a symbol of longevity and peace and
our tallest bird, ~52”, with a scarlet crown, an
87” black-tipped wingspan, and a clear
resounding “bugle” —a regal, but endangered
creature.
Formerly widespread across our prairie state’s
wetlands, plume and other unregulated
hunting, along with habitat conversion to
farmland, decimated the whooping crane
population—by the 1940s fewer than 20 were extant. At the time, most believed the
cranes were inevitably destined to follow the great auk, Labrador duck, heath hen,
passenger pigeon, and Carolina parakeet into extinction.
Pennsylvania is the childhood home for literally hundreds of famous personages—
Barrymore, Carnegie, Franklin, Mead, and the like. When I was growing up in deeply
rural Lycoming County, in the mountains near Cedar Run, we were mostly oblivious to
any of them, except for Daniel Boone, who was born in Reading. In the 1950’s, roaming

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 11

the wilds of Pine Creek with our .22 rifles in hand, Boone was someone we could
identify with. Putting it in its rosiest terms, my friends and I enjoyed childhoods
uniquely suffused in unstructured outdoor experiences.
You may rightly ask what does that have to do with whooping cranes? Well, maybe if
we had been a bit more informed, we might have discovered another Pennsylvania hero
right next door to us. One that may have provided much needed positive influence or
guidance for our outdoor activities and attitudes. This person was Robert “Bob” Porter
Allen. A self-made field biologist, writer, artist, and conservationist, who is known
today as “the man who saved the whooping cranes.”
Bob was born in South Williamsport on April 24, 1905. His parents brought him up in a
home where commitment to cause was a matter of course. As a youth, he spent time
traipsing the ridges and hollows of Bald Eagle Mountain hunting deer. He was
influenced by his biology teacher and, like many others at the time, Ernest Thompson
Seton’s writings; and also, perhaps not too common back then, as a Junior Audubon
Club member, where he attended lectures by the likes of American Museum
ornithologist Frank Chapman. He purchased his first binoculars on his 16th birthday,
apparently not just for deer hunting.
But Bob got off to a shaky start. College did not appeal to his restless spirit. He went to
sea, spending three years wandering the world’s seaports, arriving back in New York
with 48-cents in his pocket. And it was the Great Depression.
Bob’s earlier mentor, Frank Chapman, referred him to T. Gilbert Pearson, head of the
National Audubon Society and another important figure in ornithology. Bob had a love
of books; it led to some employment cataloging Pearson’s library. Early in 1931, Pearson
recognized other talents in Bob, although he also still remained the librarian, he was
sent into the field to report on the heron colony conditions in North and South Carolina;
and following that, a survey of coastal Maine’s breeding birds. The latter resulted in
Bob being the first to report great black-backed gull nesting in the U.S.
Other field assignments followed, from the Director of Sanctuaries for the Audubon
Society to collaboration with Roger Tory Peterson on hawk migration at Cap May, and
a study of black-crowned night herons in Nassau County, NY. In 1939, Bob gave up the
sanctuary position and moved his family to Tavernier on Key Largo, Florida, to do
research on the roseate spoonbill. His resulting publication in 1942 remains a definitive
work for the spoonbill.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 12

Bob volunteered for the Army in WWII. When he was released in early 1946, the
National Audubon Society assigned him to the Cooperative Whooping Crane Project.
Bob and his family moved to Austwell, Texas, just north of Aransas. The Aransas
Refuge in Texas, with its 7,500 acres of tidal marsh habitat, had been established in 1937
for the remnant population of cranes. Still, little was actually known about them. Where
they went in summer after they left Aransas, their migration route and breeding
grounds, was a mystery.
The whooping cranes proved to be a challenging study. Many aerial searches were
required, tracking the cranes 2,500-mile migration route from Aransas north, up
through Nebraska, across the Dakotas, then into Canada, and the northern wildernesses
of Saskatchewan and the Northwest Territories. After exceedingly difficult on the
ground searches, nesting cranes were finally located deep within in the vast boreal
muskeg and sedge meadows in what today is the 17, 300 square-mile Wood Buffalo
National Park—the largest park in the world. The whooper’s nesting area has since
been designated a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO. In my recent visit to Aransas,
birders there still referred to Bob’s 1952 and 1955 reports as the authoritative reference
works for the cranes. Today, the Aransas Refuge supports about 300 wintering
whooping cranes.
Skimming over his many contributions, beside his
scientific studies, Bob popularized conservation
through nontechnical publications in magazines like
National Geographic, Audubon, and Bird Lore, and
auth ored several books, such as “On the Trail of
Vanishing Birds,” recognized in 1957 as the “best
nature writing of the year.” He was the recipient of
the Nash Award for conservation, the Brewster
Memorial award in 1957, and the John Burroughs
award in 1958 for his vanishing bird’s book. A
posthumous honor came in 1964 when the National
Park Service named three keys in Florida Bay the
Bob Allen Keys. Two books have been published
about Bob’s life story—J.J. McCoy (1966) and Kaska
(2012), as well as a nine page memoriam by A.
Sprunt in The Auk (Jan. 1969).
I can’t help but think of Thoreau’s adage: “first a hunter, then a naturalist.” The basic
outdoor skills Bob had learned afield on Pennsylvania’s Bald Eagle Mountain and the
surrounding area were essential to him throughout his career—orienteering, camping,

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 13

outdoor cookery, boating, privation and dealing with the elements. Anyone who has
spent a little time in any of Bob’s primary study habitats—Florida mangrove swamp,
Texas salt marsh, northern Canada muskeg—knows they are incredibly demanding
places to get around in; and they have a devilish thing in common, swarms of voracious
mosquitoes and biting flies.
Ironically, where I attended high school in the 1950’s was only 15 miles from South
Williamsport, Bob’s hometown. Growing up, our past time consisted primarily of the
outdoors, hunting and fishing, or related activities. There was no TV, Wi-Fi, or the likes
back then, and it was over 30-miles to town. In our deeply rural environs, none of my
friends, classmates, or apparently even teachers, were aware of or knew anything about
Bob Allen or his accomplishments. We could have used a Pennsylvania conservation
hero example like Bob. It might have helped us to see the natural world in other
important ways besides just viewing it through gun sights.
There are lessons to be learned from Bob Allen’s story beyond his scientific
contributions. Bob was a role model for how the natural environment (such as the
Pennsylvania outdoors) combined with proper mentorship (Chapman, Pearson,
Peterson) can help positively shape young people’s interests and values. Today, with
the uncertain fate of so many creatures, whose habitats and populations are rapidly
disappearing in the face of ever more people and development, the world urgently
needs more Bob Allens.
Geese on Penns Creek
~Photo by Edie Cox

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 14

Backpacking Trip on the Chuck Keiper Trail
~Bob Myers (Director of Environmental Studies)
This semester I’ve had the good fortune to teach a course that is outside of my normal
discipline of English—RECR202: Outdoor Activities and Leadership. Since the course
focuses on backpacking, map and compass navigating, canoeing, and other outdoor
skills, I feel that I have been preparing for it all my life. But it’s also forced me to work
hard to learn how to teach outdoor skills to future professionals. Some days, I’m happy
to be a day ahead of the students! A key part of the course is an overnight backpacking
trip, and this year we did an eight-mile loop on the Chuck Keiper Trail (CKT), located
just south of Renovo. I thought it might be a fun hike to share with Hemlock readers.
LHU to the Trailhead
Leave campus and turn right onto PA 120 West for 26.1 miles. In Renovo, turn left onto
PA 144 South for 8.9 miles. Turn left (northeast) onto Pete’s Run Road for 3.3 miles, and
about a mile past Mill Run Rd., park at the intersection of the CKT & Pete’s Run Rd.
Day #1: Pete’s Run Road to Boggs Run Campsite (5.6 miles)
From the parking area, follow Pete’s Run
Road southeast for one mile and then turn
left (east) on Mill Run Road (also called
Grugan Hollow Road). Stay on Mill Run
Road for 2.4 miles and then turn left
(northwest) onto the orange-blazed CKT.
Watch closely for the turn—if you reach
Crabapple Hollow Trail, you’ve gone too far.
Follow the CKT downhill into beautiful
Boggs Run Valley for 1.5 miles. At the
bottom of the hill, the trail turns left
(southwest). A large campsite is about ¾ of a
mile further. If the site should be occupied
(which is unlikely), there are other possible
campsites further on the CKT.
Day #2: Boggs Run Campsite to Pete’s Run Rd. to LHU (2.4 miles).
Follow the CKT west/south for about 2.4 miles to the parking area. The climb out of
Boggs Run is pretty steep (about 900’ elevation gain).

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 15

For more information on this and other hikes on the CKT, see Dave Gantz, The Chuck
Keiper Trail (Scott Adams Enterprises, 2016) and the PA DCNR Map (2006) at
http://www.docs.dcnr.pa.gov/cs/groups/public/documents/document/dcnr_002034.pdf
Lost and Forgotten Communities: Black Moshannon
~Norm Houser (LHU History major)
The cool wind rippled the waters of Black Moshannon Lake causing the lily pads to
dance to a tune only they understood. The waters, darkened by tannins produced by
the sphagnum moss, reflected the clouds that passed lazily overhead. It was almost a
perfect day, except for the sound of a chainsaw running somewhere in the distance.
While I was not sure if this was an individual trimming a tree, or part of the state
approved clear-cutting, it brought back memories of the times before, when the trees
had been harvested during Pennsylvania’s lumbering era. As the demand for lumber
grew in the mid to late 1800s, so did the population of the region and at one point, four
lumber boom towns existed within the present-day boundaries of the park.
The oldest of these lost communities was Antes. With the Philadelphia-Erie Turnpike
(now Route 504) opening in 1821, there was a demand for lodging. That same year,
Antes Tavern was built near the present-day
bridge crossing the lake to provide some relief
for travelers. The town of Antes grew quickly
around the tavern. It was the largest of the
communities at Black Moshannon and the bestknown to visitors in the modern era due to a
marker placed at the location. At its height
Antes had a general store, blacksmith shop,
tavern, school, and even a ten-pin bowling
alley. A piece of Antes still remains – the Antes
one-room school house that closed in 1926, still stands along Route 504 just west of the
bridge.
By the mid-1800s, the demand for lumber had come to the region and three more
lumber boom towns would grow up in the immediate vicinity. Lumber would be
harvested and either floated down Black Moshannon Creek, or hauled overland to
Philipsburg or Julian.
The community of Star Mill was located near the northern end of the present-day trail
that bears its name. The steam-powered mill was built in 1879 along North Run and a

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 16

small community grew up around it. At its peak, this community had twenty saws
operating, a mill to produce shingles, a school and a number of houses.
The community of Beaver Mills existed
at the lower end of the park, along
Shirk’s Run, near the junction of
Strawband Beaver Road and Julian
Pike. Beaver Mills was the second
largest of the communities, also having
a general store, blacksmith shop and
sawmills. The community shared its
name with the Beaver Mills Lumber
Company, which controlled the lands
being lumbered. Though none of the
buildings remain, the location of the community is marked by the Beaver Cemetery
along Julian Pike.
Underwood Mills grew up around a sawmill on Smay’s Run. The community took its
name from William Underwood, who founded the community of nearby Unionville.
Underwood Mills prepared the logs to be transported to Underwood’s main sawmill in
Unionville. Unlike the lands owned by the Beaver Mills Lumber Company, Underwood
did not transport his lumber to Williamsport. He transported his to Tyrone, but to do
that meant he had to create his own roads, which included a plank road running from
Unionville to Tyrone (it would become old Route 220) and a road to the access his
holdings (present-day Julian Pike). While this community has vanished, a road from
Julian Pike to Route 504 is named after it.
The end of the lumbering industry ended the lives of these communities. As the
lumbermen moved to new regions, they left behind a barren landscape. In 1933, two
new communities would be erected to undo the destruction left behind by the
lumbering industry and create the park as it is known today.
These communities were made up of young men seeking employment during the Great
Depression. The communities were camps of the Civilian Conservation Corps. The first
of these two camps would be located within the borders of the park near the abandoned
community of Beaver Mills. Known as the Beaver Meadows Camp (S-71-PA) this camp,
located near the abandoned town of Beaver Mills, operated from May 30, 1933 until
1936. It put more than two hundred young men to work building roads, planting trees,
erecting cabins and pavilions, and the building of a modern dam.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 17

A second Civilian Conservation Corps camp
would be erected at Wolf Rocks (S-119-PA),
along Six-Mile Run, west of the present-day
boundaries of the park. A product of the time,
the camp was originally a segregated camp.
Many of the roads still being used, along with
a number of the camps at Wolf Rocks were
originally built by the Corps. The camp
operated until 1941, when the United States
entered World War Two.
The sound of the chainsaw stopped, bringing me back to the present. The villages may
be long gone, but their importance can be seen in the names that have been placed on
trails, roads, and other features around the park. Star Mill. Beaver Mills. Underwood
Mills. Beaver Meadows. Wolf Rocks. They all call back to another time and place that
has vanished from the landscape, but remains a part of the region’s history.
To Cut or Not to Cut: That is the question
~Jeff Walsh (Retired LHU Recreation Professor)
Remember a couple of years ago (May 2015) when several articles appeared in the
Express newspaper (mostly Letters to the Editor) emphasizing the fact that some citizens
were outraged by the drastic tree pruning and tree removal conducted by contractors
following Penn DOT policy? The majority of those letters highlighted citizens’ anger
stemming (pun intended) from the severity of the work and its dramatic impact on
assorted streets throughout the city. The City, in response to this public criticism of
those practices, submitted an article or two suggesting that it was considering a policy
change directed towards reducing the severity of that type of extensive trimming. Since
that time, I have more acutely aware of an ever-changing viewscapes throughout our
area. Streets were, and are, transformed - they often become more barren as trees are
pruned and removed and will not return, to any resemblance of what they had been, for
many years to come. Certainly, one outcome of tree removal is that the future of power
lines have been protected and threats towards human safety may have potentially been
reduced, but the result is also a more “prairie-like openness” – one that I disliked – a lot!

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 18

More recently, last spring
(2017), a row of large, mature
Weeping Willow trees along
RT 26/64 was removed from
the west shore of Fishing
Creek in Mill Hall, near the
Fire Hall. At that time I
wondered how many people
even noticed this, and if they
did notice, how many people
were bothered by that decision
as I was? I wondered what
was so overly worrisome
about that particular row of trees. My recollection is that we had just survived a major
storm with gusting winds so I propose that once again these trees were removed to
proactively lower risks of danger and damage. Then a few months later (this Fall), I
became even more alarmed as tree trimming crews armed with chainsaws, pruning
saws, and heavy equipment diligently executed their assigned tasks to trim and remove
trees throughout the Lock Haven area.
Coincidently (since I started a draft of this article), two adjacent neighbors across the
street from our home, capitalized on one glorious spring day to cut down four or five
mature trees in their backyards - trees that were on the south side of their homes, trees
that offered a significant amount of shade in the summer, and therefore reduced the
cooling needs and costs of their homes. These incidents, taken as a whole, have caused
me to contemplate what our town(s) will look like in another 10-20 years. As bazaar as
it may seem, for a millisecond I thought, “If this is our future – one with fewer and
fewer trees – I need to get ready to move!”
The scenarios that I have mentioned are not unique to our area, they are occurring
throughout the country. According to the Forest Service (2018), between 2009 and 2014,
cities and communities in the U.S. lost 36 million trees per year (roughly 175,000 acres
of tree cover) - a geographical area about equal to 208 Central Parks (Nix, 2018). Lead
author, David Nowak, of the U.S. Forest Service, assessed the total loss of benefits from
such a tree loss at roughly $96 million. This loss ultimately stems from a reduction in
the tree canopy’s ability to remove air pollution, sequester carbon, and conserve energy.
A little less than half (46.8%) of Pennsylvania is covered by trees, or the tree canopy.
Our communities in Pennsylvania are experiencing the loss of trees and thus the
associative benefits of those trees. In fact, between 2007 and 2013, the tree canopy in
Pennsylvania was reduced by .6% or about 4,320 acres

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 19

It is not my intention to imply that each, or any, of the decisions behind the
aforementioned incidents was wrong, nor that they were hasty, rash decisions, or nor
that they were not well-intended decisions. I simply wonder if those responsible,
considered the full implications of their actions, the irrevocability of each decision. I
worry that in our culture of immediacy; we are not seeing tree removal in the most
mindful way. Once a tree is eliminated, we can never get it back. We can replace it with
another tree, and perhaps in some cases that must be good enough, but the original
version is gone forever.
My antipathy for tree removal and subsequent musings, became the root (clever, right)
of this article – an effort to call attention to the importance of considering the total value
of mature trees, prior to reaching a decision to cut them down. It seems logical to
assume that oftentimes, tree pruning and tree removal is an economic decision for
communities – undertaken primarily to avoid or reduce the probably of the future
financial losses related to human safety and infrastructure damage. And most of us
would agree that addressing such concerns is a good thing! However, if we are
committed making the best economic decision of whether or not to remove a tree, we
need to calculate all costs and losses associated with that action. These calculations
should include a complete assessment of the economic value of a tree and the tree
canopy in urban areas (OK, perhaps the Lock Haven area is not classified as an urban
area, but the trees surrounding us do matter!). I wonder how many times decisions to
cut or not to cut are reached without having accounted for the lost benefits we derive
from trees?
Because tree removal is most often a once-in-a-lifetime action – that is, to reach maturity,
many trees species need more years than the average human lifespan - we need to make
more comprehensive calculations in the future. Calculations that not only measure the
monetary value of losses due to trees falling on people, their property, and our
infrastructure, but also subtract the financial gains resulting from trees’ innate ability to
“… improve air and water quality, reduce summer energy costs by cooling homes,
reduce noise, mitigate runoff and flooding, and enhance human health and well-being,
making them important to human health and urban and community infrastructure.” As
we deliberate about whether or not to remove trees, we must subtract these inherent
benefits of those trees. One estimate suggested that, “the annual benefits derived from
U.S. urban forests due to air pollution removal, carbon sequestration, and lowered
building energy use and consequent altered power plant emissions are estimated at $18
billion.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 20

In addition to the aforementioned economic benefits of trees, and conversely, losses due
to tree removal, trees can also play a critical role in people’s wellness. According to one
a Forest Service research scientist, the health benefits of living near trees include: a place
where “… where people can decompress from the stresses of life, interact with others,
plant nutritious foods, and develop a stronger connection with nature” (Nix, 2018, p. 2).
These health benefits should always be part of the equation used to assess the value of
trees in our communities. Green (2016) noted that green space and tree-laden areas tend
to “... increased safety, greater social cohesion and community connection, and
improved health” (Green, 2016, p. 3). Other health and wellness benefits have been
attributed to tree-dependent practices such as forest-bathing: a practice associated with
preventing cancer, reducing stress, improving brain activity, combating depression, and
reducing loneliness (7 Amazing Health …).
Finally, must also consider the monetary price on the aesthetic value of natural
viewscapes? Have you stopped to consider the view along Bellefonte Avenue headed
from Wal-Mart back to the center of town? Those of us who have been in Lock Haven
for awhile can easily recognize the barren viewscape as we drive up the hill
approaching the A- Plus gas station, where trees once lined the street. Since those trees
were removed, the view is more akin to cresting a knoll in a small town in the Midwest.
For those who cherish the gift of living in the presence of tree-lined streets with green
vistas, the visual impact of tree removal is a harsh symbol of a new reality. The former
view has greater value to us than does the new setting. How much were those trees
worth aesthetically?
There is also a long and diverse litany of research that documents that we visually
prefer nature landscapes over other types of landscapes. Steven Kaplan (1983) was one
of the first researchers to begin to document that humans prefer natural settings over
man-made landscapes. Many subsequent studies have reported similar findings; some
sense of place research postulates that people have stronger attachments to natural
settings than to other settings that are dominated by steel and concrete, buildings and
pavement. What dollar amount can be placed on these benefits to our psychological
wellness? If trees can potentially deliver these types of benefits, when should we be
removing them, protecting them, or sustaining them?
How devastating! While editing this article this morning, my wife suddenly mentioned
that there had been a fire at Notre Dame’s cathedral. Having visited The University of
Notre Dame this past summer, I immediately recalled the significant role that building
has played in sense(s) of place for the campus and its human communities. I
empathetically thought how sad people would be over the loss of such a cultural icon the loss of a building that cannot be replaced, a place that could not be re-created.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 21

Obviously the news story actually reported the fire in the Notre Dame cathedral in
Paris, and while that brought a moment of respite – which quickly evaporated when I
realized this was still a tragedy – it was still a crushing loss, just one that was not as
personal as it would have been if it happened to my Norte Dame.
The destruction from the fire in Paris, erased part of an ancient history. There is the loss
of ancient timbers, long-extinct craftsmanship, unavailable building materials, and
many other specific and individual aspects of the original building. That portion of
history, in that place, is lost forever. Think how irreplaceable the uniqueness of the
cathedral is, how it can never be exactly what it was, how its individuality and
uniqueness is gone; the cathedral can never be as it was. On a much, much smaller and
less significant scale removing trees from a particular setting can have a similar effect
on specific settings.
Think of the impact the loss of sentinel oak tree, on the site of the former Sullivan Hall
near the center of Lock Haven campus, had on our university community. The loss was
evident in public comments and thoughts shared throughout the community, and in the
action of a handful of people to try to salvage pieces of that tree in the form of various
mementos. It’s true, another tree can be planted there, and in 75 or 100 years we could
hopefully have another huge tree gracing that portion of campus, but it would never
have the exact size, shape, branching pattern, nor the history of its predecessor. One
cannot replace an original, once lost, it is gone forever.
To be persnickety, I believe that this phenomenon happens each and every time a tree is
cut down; that tree is gone. It uniqueness cannot be replaced or rediscovered. Personal
histories in which the tree has played a role are forever disrupted; future interactions
and encounters are non-existent. All those benefits we can potentially derive from that
tree are gone, and in most cases, gone for the rest of our lives. We have loss an organism
that contributes to the fight against environmental degradation, climate change, and
extinction. We are more vulnerable to decreased levels of human health and wellness.
We have lost an object that has psychological and aesthetical value; an object that can
potentially improve our quality of life. We can lose a lot!
And therefore, the discussions and calculations behind decisions to remove even a
single tree should include a complete assessment of its total value to our individual and
collective lives. In addition to the typical cost/benefit analyses that are typically
completed, we must ensure that we include the less tangible values associated with
trees. Only then can we make the most informed decision of “to cut or not to cut”.

The Hemlock 12.2 (Spring 2019), page 22
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Cities and communities in the U.S. losing 36 million trees a year. Northern Research
Station News Releases. https://www.nrs.fs.fed.us/news/release/cities-communities-losingtree-cover/
Green, J. (2016). We must better communicate the health benefits of nature. The Dirt –
The American Society of Landscape Architects. http://dirt.asla.org/2016/02/02/we-mustbetter-communicate-the-health-benefits-of-nature/.
Kaplan, S. (1983). A model of person-environment compatibility. Environmental and
Behavior. 15, 311-332.
Nix, R. (2018). Saving the city in the forest. Atlanta Magazine.
https://www.atlantamagazine.com/news-culture-articles/saving-the-city/
7 Amazing Health Benefits of Walking in the Woods You Probably Don’t Know.
https://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/7-amazing-health-benefits-walking-thewoods-you-probably-dont-know.html

Environmental Focus Group
Bob Myers (Chair), Jeff Walsh, John Reid, Lynn Bruner, Elizabeth Gruber, Joby Topper,
Michael McSkimming, Heather Bechtold, Dain TePoel, Marchal Rote, Md.
Khalequzzaman, Michael Myers, Barrie Overton, Todd Nesbitt, Jamie Walker, Stephen
Neun, Jared Conti, Colleen Meyer, Bo Miller, and George Rusczyk. The committee is
charged with promoting and supporting activities, experiences, and structures that
encourage students, faculty, and staff to develop a stronger sense of place for Lock
Haven University and central Pennsylvania. Such a sense of place involves a
stewardship of natural resources (environmentalism), meaningful outdoor experiences,
and appreciation for the heritage of the region.