Back on a pleasant Sunday in December, on vacation, I decided at the last minute to attend a biomass gathering that drew quite a crowd to Bernardston’s historic Unitarian Church. I was curious, wanted to meet the players, inconspicuously work the floor, so to speak, perhaps eat a cookie in passing, kill time before the Patriots game. To my delight, what I found was a colorful crowd, mostly rabble-rousers riled up by the proposed Greenfield plant. I enjoy people of their tie-dyed ilk.

The place was bustling, Falltown String Band providing a complementary touch, as I stood out of the way, leaning against a wall near the kitchen doorway. The woman standing next to me was sporting an anti-biomass pin. We, of course, got to talking. When I introduced myself, she recognized my name and thanked me for an anti-biomass column I had written, then launched into a diatribe about my place of employment, criticizing perceived biased coverage in favor of the proposed plant. I craftily avoided that discussion before she introduced me to a woman approaching from my other side. Yep, another rabid opponent of biomass, known to foes as the “supposed” clean-energy alternative. Yes indeed, antis do take issue with that clean-and-green biomass-friendly description. They agree it’s green in a money-making context, but insist it’s far from clean.

Anyway, when my newfound friend said she wanted my business card, I told her my wallet was in the truck and we went outside to get away from the commotion. At the truck, warm winter sun high in the sky, we resumed our conversation. She encouraged me to speak to John Organ, chief of the Division of Wildlife & Sport Fish Restoration at the United States Fish and Wildlife Service’s Northeast regional office in Hadley. “He lives in Buckland,” she told me, “seems to be a pretty nice guy and may have something to say that biomass supporters don’t want to see in print.”

That surprised me. USFWS administrators these days seem to trend more toward Reagan revolutionaries connected to George W. Bush and his sorry lot, certainly no friends of the environment. And although I don’t know if Organ fits that bill, I never did contact him. I chose instead to e-mail one of his underlings, my friend and longtime source John McDonald, a wildlife biologist from Organ’s District 5 office. Formerly our state Deer Project Leader, McDonald specializes in black bears and deer. I figured he’d be as good a source as any about the potential impact of biomass logging on forest habitats crucial to wildlife.

McDonald and other deer specialists I’ve spoken to have for years identified “old-growth forests” in western Franklin County as the No. 1 obstacle to building desired deer densities of 12 to 15 per square mile. Needed, they say, is responsible harvest of trees 80 and more years old along with small patchwork clear-cuts to stimulate forest regeneration and create browse for deer and other wildlife that depend on it for winter sustenance. So, the salient biomass questions seem to be: Will it be an impetus for forest management; and is there enough fuel to feed the pig over the long haul without overharvesting? Then, a couple more questions: How many plants would be too many; and wouldn’t too many eventually create a supply shortage necessitating incineration of other fuels, perhaps hard-to-dispose-of rubbish that would belch unhealthy smoke into our skies, no matter what the proponents say about filters and buffers? McDonald was not timid about responding, on the record.

Yes, he opined, there is enough fuel to feed the pig by responsible logging, but not if opponents are successful in pulling state forests out of the supply chain while convincing private landowners not to get involved with biomass harvesting. As for how many plants would be too many, McDonald wouldn’t venture a guess, just wrote: “It is essentially a math problem that anyone thinking of building a plant would figure out. They would know how much wood they need per day, per month, per year to produce their target output. There is pretty good information on forest inventory available, and then they would have to estimate how easy procurement would be within various hauling distances. Then, you might do some estimates with nearby competitors and recalculate.” McDonald thinks biomass harvest would be an ideal solution for landowners whose wood lots are dominated by low-value hard and soft woods. Such trees could be removed to make way for a more valuable, healthy forest while bringing a financial return to the landowner. Biomass would also provide a market during periodic wood surpluses produced by such natural occurrences as last winter’s ice storm, which left many local upland forests in ruin and need of cleanup; it would also be a remedy for plagues like the Asian long-horned beetle invasion that led to the removal of thousands of mature central Massachusetts hardwoods, many gracing quintessential New England roads. But the question remains: Would the supply last forever or would we soon exhaust it and succumb to irresponsible, greedy logging? It’s a difficult question to answer before long-range impact on the forests can be assessed, all the more reason to proceed conservatively at the start by limiting the number of plants. Biomass opponents’ worst fear is that the demand will exceed the supply, eventually forcing plants to burn refuse that’s difficult to dispose of, stuff like tires and hazardous construction waste that few people north of the Mason-Dixon Line want burned and released into the skies. Count me among them. Sorry, but I don’t trust politicians, plant administrators and investors to do what’s right for the environment. There are piles of records to support my skepticism.

McDonald has concerns about another component of the argument: the activists raising a ruckus to derail biomass energy production. ”What bothers me about the future is that folks want to keep taking parts of the resource base off the table, which might lead to irresponsible logging in the longer run,” he wrote. “If state forests are taken off the table for commercial logging, and local interest groups scare landowners from cutting trees, all bets are off. What could be a positive thing for forest health and wildlife species might then have negative consequences.” It’s a legitimate fear when you understand that the state owns the largest contiguous blocks of forest, thus foresters can do larger-scale operations there than on most private lands. But then again, according to McDonald, “That is the argument some folks on the other side use to oppose logging in state forests. They want to allow them to serve as reserves. So that becomes a value choice people need to make.”

From my perch high on a stately High Ridge beech, it seems there are better, more efficient ways to produce electricity than biomass, which seems like more of the same, not a step forward. Yes, I believe small-scale biomass energy production has a place in the big picture, but these large plants being proposed in western Massachusetts for the benefit of investors and eastern Massachusetts consumers are not for me. Given a choice, I’d prefer fewer smokestacks, not more. Everywhere. Not just in my backyard.

To me, this whole Greenfield biomass initiative smells like a project being pushed by disingenuous developers who attempted to slip it through quickly in a struggling town before residents understood the potential drawbacks. I saw the proponents speak and came away unimpressed. They answered the question they wanted to answer, cried foul on the ones they artfully ducked. Thankfully, cerebral Happy Valley activists were paying attention from the start, looked into the issue before the plant was built, and brought to light the promoters’ lies and half-truths.

My take is that the proposed Greenfield plant is a long way from its ground-breaking ceremony, regardless of what “Biomass Bill” and his most ardent supporters say. Just you wait and see. The opposition is vociferous, reaching deep into our gentle hilltowns, where the mindset is quite different than mainstream Greenfield’s. In fact, my observations tell me the countywide anti-biomass crowd is much stronger than the one opposing big-box development; and we all know how fast that Mackin-lot fiasco has borne fruit. It’ll be more of the same with biomass.

Trust me, those tie-dyeds will have a long time to snicker and dick
er. Why? Easy. Because they’re not just blowing smoke.

One down, one to go: That’s how Buckland’s Roger Ward sees it.

First, the done deal. Anyone who’s scanned through the 2010 MassWildlife Abstracts may have noticed the $13 youth sporting license that’s available for the first time this year. If so and you wondered where it came from, thank Ward, known to his friends as “Heze,” pronounced Hezzie, short for Hezekiah, an obsolete Biblical name common throughout New England during its first 300 years. “To tell you the truth, my mother wanted to name me Hezekiah but my father wouldn’t hear of it,” said Ward, son and grandson of Hezekiahs. “For some reason, my father didn’t like the name.”

Apparently Ward’s playground pals didn’t give a hoot what his birth certificate read, because as soon as they learned his father’s name, it became his nickname, one that he’s grown fond of. So, over the years, he’s become Heze, a West County political gadfly of sorts.

But let us not digress. Back to the youth sporting license. Working on behalf of the Conway Sportsmen’s Club, Ward was the wind behind the new license’s sails. It saves youth sportsmen ages 15 to 17 a sawbuck. In the past, there was no youth sporting license, necessitating the purchase of separate hunting ($11.50) and fishing ($11.50) licenses, a $23 tab. Now that’s history thanks to Ward’s persistence and, of course, a year and a half of bureaucratic wrangling. In the books, it’s a feather in Ward’s Conway Sportsmen’s Club’s hat.

“Fewer and fewer kids hunt nowadays and we figured a cheap license might encourage them,” explained Ward. “We didn’t want cost to be an obstacle.” So now, thanks the Heze, these inexpensive licenses have become a painless annual Christmas present for parents to consider.

With the license issue behind him, Heze’s all stirred up about another initiative, one that may even convince the longtime, true-blue Democrat to vote for the other party in the next gubernatorial election. He’s upset that Gov. Patrick has laid down strict spending ceilings for state agencies, including the Division of Fisheries and Wildlife. The budget cap will, according to Ward, leave the division with a $17 million surplus this year. He thinks the surplus should be spent, not squirreled away, and supports his argument by pointing out that the DFW has never once run a deficit budget. Nonetheless, the agency has its hands tied from above and is unable to spend money raised exclusively for fish and wildlife expenses.

“It’s akin to someone bringing home $250 a week and the government telling them they can only spend $200 of it,” Ward explained. “It’s wrong because there’s not a penny of taxpayer money in there. It’s all dedicated funds generated from hunting and fishing licenses and fees, permits and stamps.”

The worst fear is that the $17 million surplus could be secretly funneled elsewhere, excluding the Bay State from annual federal funding provided to states that restrict such revenue only to fish and wildlife projects. If the governor decides to dip into the kitty and use even a small portion of the surplus for roads or schools or bridges, then the federal assistance is gone. End of story. Ward believes the dedicated funds should be spent where they’re meant to be spent and fears monkey business down the road in a state where funds are tight and a MassWildlife hiring freeze has been in effect for more than a year. He thinks the freeze should be lifted, the money collected from licenses and fees spent on fish and wildlife projects.

“I talked to a Patrick aide who danced around the issue and wouldn’t commit to anything,” said Ward. “If they won’t cooperate and the Republican candidate promises to leave those dedicated funds alone and spend the surplus on (DFW), I’ll support him.”

That’s coming  from a man who never thinks like a Republican, rarely votes the ticket and is entertaining serious thoughts about starting a petition drive to protect the “sacred” dedicated funds.

Remember, the money in question, when used for habitat improvement, land acquisition, or MassWildlife salaries, contributes to the enjoyment of many outdoor enthusiasts who do not hunt or fish and never will, anti-hunters among them. Included would be bird watchers, photographers, hikers, boaters and many other recreational users of our woods, waters and overgrown farms.

As usual, Ole Heze’s fighting a good fight, one for you and me, fueled by a strong dose of Yankee ethic with a shot of stubborn hill-town determination.

I know some readers are sick of this stuff. A few good ole’ boys have even felt compelled to compose scathing letters to the editor. Then again, there are those who can’t get enough. So what to do when you sit in my chair and a story like this one drops into your lap?

It came via snail mail. I arrived at work and found a plump envelope resting on my desk, one that had the look and feel of a resume. The absence of a return address told me it was no resume, though, and piqued my curiosity further. I briefly suspected hate mail but quickly ruled that out. I have never received multi-page mail of that nature. Hate mail is typically short, vicious and to the point, often grammatically, uhm, challenged. I was convinced it was something worth reading, probably about cougars, maybe salmon, perhaps biomass or Wal-Mart or some other controversial issue I’ve chimed in on over the years. I couldn’t resist opening it and taking a look, so I peeled back a corner of the sealed flap, worked my index finger inside the inch-long hole and tore a jagged line along the fold. Sure enough, cougars.

The tidy letter (I only found a few minor typos in five single-spaced pages) began with a formal, six-line business address topped by my name in the upper left-hand corner. Then the intro began with a razor-sharp, barbed treble hook: “You seem to have run out of information relative to mountain lions but have established a proven record of honest interest in these animals locally. Consequently, this is a belated Christmas gift in hopes you can use it coupled with your investigative credentials to advance knowledge of mountain lion presence here.”

Hmmmmm? Interesting, indeed, but no time to carefully read it, organized in three bold-faced, labeled segments, “Published,” “Unpublished” and “Unsubstantiated.” Nonetheless, I skimmed through it, got the gist, and arrived at the end, where it was signed “CAU,” followed by the postscript: “Name omitted due to location and the traffic it may cause if you printed my name and address, but I will respond to any information or questions printed in your column if I know
the answer and subject demands response.”

The writer is an artist who believes in local cougars because he and his wife have seen them. The first sighting occurred several years ago on Route 2 in Shelburne as the couple drove past the old Mt. Mohawk Ski Area. Years later, his wife turned on two 500-watt floodlights to illuminate their backyard from the deck and came face-to-face with a big cat passing through. That animal “whirled around and stared directly into her face, waited, then turned and bounded off, tail high. As she described the ears and tail, there was no question but what this was a mountain lion like we had seen on the Trail.”

The man even ventures off into the common subplot of government conspiracy and secrecy, accusing MassWildlife’s Western District office of receiving, reviewing, substantiating, then burying photographic evidence of a Berkshire County cat furnished by a private citizen. I’d rather not go
there; have heard it or similar accusations many times in the past. They’re not worth chasing for many reasons, foremost that there is zero chance of confirming such a tale through state wildlife officials. Zilch. Especially now that you must first go through an annoying state Executive
Office of Energy and Environmental Affairs filter before speaking to any state employee. If something must be hidden, it will be. You can thank dandy former Gov. Mitt Romney for that. But let us not digress into politics. Back to the letter, which delves into a fascinating discussion on color manipulation under different concentrations of light, according to our source, the reason big-cat reports vary in color from black to gray to brown depending upon where and what time of day they are seen. And remember, this analysis comes courtesy of an artist who is familiar with
the way color changes under different light.

The first hint of this color-altering dynamic appears early in the narrative, paragraph five, when describing the Mohawk Trail sighting, a road-crossing from the overgrown ski area to the old Taylor farm, now Kenburn Orchards Bed & Breakfast: “As the animal traveled through the shade into the sunlight and out, it changed from gray to auburn to a light sienna (rust) and then back as it passed in front of us.” Get the point? The animal appeared to be several different colors during the same brief sighting by a trained eye. It gets better later, when the writer returns to an in-depth color discussion to conclude his piece.

Because I do not understand the relationship between light and color nearly as well as my source, I am about to do something I usually avoid like the plague when writing: lengthy quotes. To me, extended, uninterrupted attribution in a piece like this is lazy. A writer should be able to capture conversation by paraphrasing and writing, not quoting, except for short snippets delivered for sudden impact, maybe humor. I often find myself feeling the same way about dialogue in fiction, even from the masters, including my own favorite, the great Hamsun. I would rather be told what was said and why, not read quotations. But that’s just me.

Nonetheless, here I am about to violate one of my own golden rules by quoting verbatim my source’s scientific analysis of why the color of cougars can vary so from sighting to sighting. Sorry. Here it is. Rather than using quotation marks, I’ll use italics to identify his words:

Finally, I wish to debunk some of the misinformation we are fed by the fish and game, DCR or whatever it is called now. For too long, they have been fabricating information about … how the animal could not have been a mountain lion because they misidentified the color. I write not as a hunter or any kind of outdoorsman, but as a professional artist with the requisite training and about 50 years experience. Part of that training includes initial and continued intensive study in color and color theory as well as improvement in observational skills. … It is because of this
training and experience that I know our DCR is either lying to us, doesn’t know how stupid they actually appear or, since most are male, carry the color-blind gene, or perhaps all three. Here’s why:

Animal colors in this area as opposed to the tropics appear to be made up of a color and a tint (white) or shade (black) of that color. Burnt sienna (rust or iron oxide), such as that of a fox, for example, is a dominant color. Add more black and it turns a darker color, such as that of a blue Doberman. Add lots of black and you get a brownish black, such as a black bear.

The base of a rust color is composed of burnt sienna (red) and gold (yellow). A cougar’s color is on the gold side of this base. It appears that the color is generated by mixing the yellowish ochre color with that of its complement, which would generate a neutral gray or muddy brown. The surface of the animal appears to be a coppery-bronze rust color depending on light. However, as one looks inward below the surface toward the skin, it appears to get grayer and more neutral. This can be explained in several ways.The first possible explanation is that the deeper you look, the darker it gets, therefore harder to see color. It might just be that the pigmentation appears only on the very tips of the hair while the rest is the neutral of the color. One might think of this color-changing as perhaps a defensive response that allows the animal to hide in some types of lighting.

Furthermore, color changes with light. For example, take a walk in the woods with the sun at your back and the foliage will appear one color. Turn around and it is completely different. In addition, the sun reflects off the surface in places where the fur is compressed, and is absorbed in others as the animal stretches, creating lighter or darker variations of the same surface. In the animal world, think of the ridgeback, where the light splaying on the texture seems to create a different color along the back, where you look into the fur.

The animal I saw was in and out of the sunlight and at different positions relative to where I was. When I was in a position where the animal faced me or was at an angle in the light, it was a rust/bronze color. But as it moved across my path, I looked directly into the ends of the deep fur and it was gray. This occasionally shows up in photos of the animal and should help explain why there have been different color sightings by various people.

Since most cougars hunt and travel in the poor light of dawn or dusk, the colors of the beast would probably appear to be deep yellow- to grayish-ochre. Seen in front of the light, however, they would appear black. Finally, in any group of similar animals, there will always be variations. That the state uses this color “mix-up” to prove its point and confuse the issue is either innocent ignorance or blatant subterfuge. Take your pick.

So, readers, chew on this analysis whenever contemplating the reason why witnesses dating back to colonial New England have been reporting black or gray panthers. Apparently, it’s all about the light under which they see them. And remember, the preceding explanation came from a man who knows color and the effects of different light on it. That’s why I printed it as it came to me. Frankly, I couldn’t have said it better myself, and may have been inaccurate if I tried to paraphrase.

Why chance it?