A Naif in the Forest by Darrell Berger

Wing Tips to Hiking Boots: Musings of a New, Full-Time Poconos Resident 

The finch turns from gold to gray, leaves from green to red and orange, moss fades, the ground itself wears a white blanket then throws it off. The bright, pink plastic ribbon around the tree never changes. It blends with the fall, stands alone as the only color in winter, reflects like psychedelic neon against the angle of the setting sun in any season. 

It doesn’t fade or bloom or wilt or open because it doesn’t live, so never dies. It wraps around trunks, dangles from branches, flies from rebar spikes hammered into the ground. It gives new meaning to the first line of Woody Guthrie’s most famous song: “This land is your land. This land is my land.” On one side of the pink tape is your land. The other side is mine. 

Flagging or surveyor’s tape does have something in common with birds and leaves. It comes in many colors and one needs to know the code for proper identification. In most cases, red means power lines, orange communication, yellow utility, green sewer or drains, blue potable water, purple reclaimed water or slurry. 

White may be the most ominous, often indicating future excavation. The tapes can also be used in forestry for indicating trees that need to be taken down, or not. Hikers, hunters and paint ballers use them to indicate trails and directions. 

These human intrusions are the only colors in the forest that seem out of place and crudely rendered compared to the subtly and variety of organic color and form. I am fortunate that in my part of the forest no one cares if Violet the Corgi and I venture onto their property, as we often do on squirrel patrol, to visit the creek, chase a tennis ball, or just stretch our legs and enjoy nature. 

Near us there are only pink property line indicators. Nobody removes the tape. We respect private property. This land is my land. That is my neighbor’s. Good to know. Good also to remember that the forest doesn’t care.