I can't seem to separate my love for photography from my love for Silviculture. It's a continuous tug-of-war between the two sources of income. Lucky for me, they both pay the bills and they both make me happy.
I've been working in reforestation for 6 seasons as a tree planter, but I've only accepted work in the winter on a couple occasions. This past month, for the second time ever, I decided to leave home for a chance to go beetle probing. Funny job title, beetle prober, and misleading too. As fun as it sounds, the job does not require any probes to be inserted into any beetles. Instead, my co-workers and I are hired to probe through the forest in search of Mountain Pine Beetles in areas determined from the air. Helicopters and air planes spot visual signs of recent attack; red dead pine trees, and we go to those trees looking for current attacks. Usually by foot, but often by quad or snowmobile, we approach the attack sites with the aid of compasses and GPS units. Then we mark trees that show signs of burrowed beetles who are sleeping dormant, suspended within the tree trunk. Since they do not take flight during the cold winter months, they are vulnerable. The marked trees are later fallen and burned which takes care of the little critters one tree at a time.
I don't like the idea of marking trees to be doomed for death, but if it wasn't for the chain and fire, the beetles would eventually kill them. And, although the beetles are merely trying to survive and reproduce like any other creature on earth, they are severely damaging our forests.
However, don't be fooled, Mountain Pine Beetles are doing far less damage than us human beings. As far out as we get from civilization each morning, two and a half hours from it most days, we are still far from escaping into the wild. In fact, there is very little wilderness left and not even a bit of it would I consider pristine. Industrial activity exists so thoroughly in these parts of Alberta that we frequently encountered rush hour 90 minutes away from any paved road or highway. It's a strange place this part of the province. I've never been somewhere so remote yet so largely industrial as the ice roads, the frozen arteries, pulsing through the foothills and boreal forests of central and northern Alberta.
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Millie Kuyer Photography on Facebook
I've been working in reforestation for 6 seasons as a tree planter, but I've only accepted work in the winter on a couple occasions. This past month, for the second time ever, I decided to leave home for a chance to go beetle probing. Funny job title, beetle prober, and misleading too. As fun as it sounds, the job does not require any probes to be inserted into any beetles. Instead, my co-workers and I are hired to probe through the forest in search of Mountain Pine Beetles in areas determined from the air. Helicopters and air planes spot visual signs of recent attack; red dead pine trees, and we go to those trees looking for current attacks. Usually by foot, but often by quad or snowmobile, we approach the attack sites with the aid of compasses and GPS units. Then we mark trees that show signs of burrowed beetles who are sleeping dormant, suspended within the tree trunk. Since they do not take flight during the cold winter months, they are vulnerable. The marked trees are later fallen and burned which takes care of the little critters one tree at a time.
I don't like the idea of marking trees to be doomed for death, but if it wasn't for the chain and fire, the beetles would eventually kill them. And, although the beetles are merely trying to survive and reproduce like any other creature on earth, they are severely damaging our forests.
However, don't be fooled, Mountain Pine Beetles are doing far less damage than us human beings. As far out as we get from civilization each morning, two and a half hours from it most days, we are still far from escaping into the wild. In fact, there is very little wilderness left and not even a bit of it would I consider pristine. Industrial activity exists so thoroughly in these parts of Alberta that we frequently encountered rush hour 90 minutes away from any paved road or highway. It's a strange place this part of the province. I've never been somewhere so remote yet so largely industrial as the ice roads, the frozen arteries, pulsing through the foothills and boreal forests of central and northern Alberta.
Millie Kuyer Photography on Facebook
