The End of Wood

THE END of WOOD

A Novelette by

Michael R Spender

THE END of WOOD© 2014

All Rights Reserved

INTRODUCTION

In this story, we return briefly to the northern island colonized by Randu and his descendants. (This colonization is described in the third of our stories about these Neolithic people, 'The Star Map'.) Two thousand years have passed and The Island Tribe has grown from a hundred or so to over two thousand people. They have kept to the rule set by Randu regarding availability of places on boats, 'enough for every one in case the sea invades'  and they have developed into a well organized, democratic society. Because no trees grow there, they have relied on a continuing supply of driftwood collected from the beaches around The Island. Their rustic life style relies heavily on wood but for no obvious reason, the supply is slowly diminishing, and there is no indication that the situation will rectify itself.

The leaders are faced with a choice similar to that of the earliest ancestors of whom they are aware, the inhabitants of The Land of Round Temples. This choice was described in the first of our stories about these Neolithic people, 'Travels with Turcu' , wherein climate change led to food shortages and subsequent migrations. In this latest story, wood shortage forces the people to migrate south to the nearby mainland. They have traded with people to the south, mainly hunters, and there has been significant intermarriage but they have never asked if settlement in the hunter's territory would be possible.

The story relates how The Island Tribe finds a home and settles in The New Land, and how through exploration they discover that there are people not too far away with whom they have common ancestry. These humans are planning to construct an enormous moon observatory. There are just a few of them and they seek help from The Island who are very willing to assist because they can get to know more about their history and to do so will give them access to new important technologies.

NOTHING LASTS FOREVER

His lieutenants woke him early, in time for his walk to the Star Temple and the rising of the third moon. He was getting old, forty three sun cycles, and for fifteen of them, Torraten had been the Chieftain of The Island Tribe and as such had presided over fifteen Third Moon celebrations. He loved this party. Every thing about it was delightful, the beginning of Spring, the parade of the young mothers and their new babies, and especially the entry of the fathers carrying their soon-to-be-men sons on their shoulders celebrating the start of manhood, every thing pleased him and bespoke the success and health of the tribe. He had over two thousand souls depending on his good judgment and decision making, a far cry from the first group of eighty who'd reached the island two hundred generations earlier, led by his distant ancestor, Randu. Randu, the name was still revered and a visit to the cairn beside the salty lake where he'd been buried, still evoked feelings of pride and amazement because of his far sightedness and accomplishments.

Randu had initiated the building of the Star Temple which now, 2000 sun cycles later was complete. The moat had filled with water, all sixty stones were in place on the circle and every clan member knew the legend of the cairns and how they represented the night sky as it appeared soon after the tribe first set foot on the island. Randu had also initiated the building of their boats, originally in case the sea began to swallow up the land, but also for use in fishing, exploration and trade with humans to the south. Trade was in Randu's blood. His tribe had traded in cows across the desert between the Great River and the warm sea so trading came naturally to him. His engaging smile and friendly manner had made him and his men welcome visitors where ever they put ashore. For two thousand sun cycles The Island Tribe had made contacts with the fair haired humans all along the east coat of the mainland. They'd exchanged cows, river-mud pottery, clothing and grain for flint, wood, rope and on several occasions, people. Many of The Tribe members could trace their ancestry back to such exchanges. The Island Tribe had grown strong as a result of the mixture of blood lines. People to the south had learned many of the traditions of the Island Tribe, animal husbandry and cultivation of crops for example. Some things were readily accepted others not. But everyone learned something with every visit. For Randu, additions to the bloodlines were almost as important as food and water, for he had observed that when groups of humans were too small they died out. Trading, however, called for boats and now there were one hundred pulled up on the nearest beach to the village on the salty lake, and, if one day there had to be an emergency evacuation, the tribe would be ready, they practiced every moon honoring Randu's decree. That thought prompted Torraten to ponder a pressing, serious matter that would likely force an evacuation, not an emergency, but a slow relentless force stemming from a creeping, insidious situation that he would have to reveal to the tribe very soon, perhaps today.

The Island had no trees but its exposed beaches were usually covered with driftwood. Indeed after wild winter storms, the driftwood piled up as high as twenty men were tall. Wood, essential to their lifestyle had always been plentiful. The tribe used it for the roof beams of their houses and important buildings, the walls of the animal shelters, fish traps, storage baskets, construction of boats and for cooking and heating. Without wood, their whole existence would be threatened, they wouldn't be able to construct more dwellings. Over crowding, bad tempers, anger and even violence would result. Without wood they could build no more boats so the evacuation rules set down under Randu's Chieftainship would limit the size of the clan to only a few more than the present count. Without wood they'd be forced to cut, dry and burn the black muddy stuff from the swamp, something everyone hated. The smoke it produced smelled bad and filled their houses with its fumes. People who'd tried using it developed hacking coughs and died young. The food they cooked on the fire tasted strange and, standing in the bog to cut the material caused a rash on their legs that sometimes turned to very unpleasant, painful blisters and boils. The tribe needed wood, but the driftwood on which they'd relied for so many sun cycles was becoming scarce, literally drying up.

Discussion on the subject of wood supplies had dominated Torraten's council for several sun cycles.  Dramulen had suggested that driftwood could be harvested from other islands or the mainland and as a stop gap measure this had worked. Men had made great rafts of wood and towed them to the white sand bay near the animal processing work station. Soon however even these supplies were exhausted.  Turinden thought that the shortage of driftwood could only be temporary and that winter storms would soon return the beaches to their normal states. Ungaten believed that the way to a solution lay in discovering the origin of the driftwood and several expeditions were sent out to explore the coast lines south, east and west of the island. All the reports told of plenty of trees but no indication as to how growing trees became driftwood. Ordalen recalled the story of the first arrivals and the legend of the huge hunting grounds that the sea had swallowed up. He thought that the driftwood was the forest originally growing on that land, a forest that had gradually been uprooted by the greedy sea and then washed up on surrounding beaches everywhere. He guessed that since there would have been a fixed number of trees, it was not surprising that after 2000 sun cycles, wood supplies were drying up. He'd been measuring the amount of driftwood on two nearby beaches for five sun cycles, his results told him that there was no hope that it would return in any abundance. At best the supply was stable, but small. He told Torraten about his results and added the wood might support a clan of a hundred people that unused houses might be cannibalized for their timbers. Now Torraten faced squarely, the prospect that, some people would have to leave the island and find new homes elsewhere. He was reminded of the legend of the departure of his distant ancestors from the Land of Round Temples. There, the weather changed and caused food shortages that forced the people to leave. The Chieftain at that time gave a ten sun cycle advanced warning of the need to move. Torraten thought they had perhaps three sun cycles.

His mood was in sharp contrast to the sounds and fragrances of the lovely spring evening and the cool misty beauty of the circle of hills around the two lakes. He was dreading this public gathering because of what he would have to tell his people. His arrival was greeted by applause and shouts of approval from the large crowd already assembled inside the Temple Ring, and his wave was cheerful despite his anxiety. The third full moon rose over the eastern hills beyond the fresh water lake, bathing the ring of stones in its soft light as it ascended, and the first of the young mothers entered the circle, holding her baby aloft for all to see. She's so young thought Torraten, so graceful, so happy, how will she feel when this day is over? The tribe applauded shouted its approval and congratulated the mothers as they walked through the entrance way and up to the Star Map centre where, Torraten stood waiting to bless the babies and to welcome them as new members of the clan. Twenty nine new mouths to feed, twenty nine more people to transport thought Torraten. Then the crowd noise changed, it became raucous, rough, wild and barbaric, signaling the entry of the new men, boys who'd lived for eleven sun cycles. They were carried in on their fathers' shoulders and the tribe's welcome reflected the importance of changes coming in their lives, no more playing all day, now they would work, contribute to the tribe's well being and learn the roles of men. Torraten stood and welcomed the ten new men speaking enthusiastically about the importance of their new status, wishing them long lives and expressing the hope that they would find good wives and father fine, strong healthy children. He recalled rather sadly that just eleven sun cycles ago, he'd welcomed these ten boys along with six others as Third Moon babies and he knew that ten of the twenty nine babies he'd welcomed today would die of illness or accident before their fifth life day. The Gods were a harsh bunch.

But now it was time for him to speak, My friends, he began, I can't begin to tell you how happy I am to be here today, at my age I'm happy to be any where (laughter) but let me start by expressing once again the warmest of welcomes to our new clan members. It's wonderful to see so many new Third Moon babies and I will urge you, as I've done in the past, to take good care of these children. We lose too many youngsters through accidents that can be prevented. Teach them to swim, warn them not to climb the cliffs and not to eat things that are not served by a mother. Remember they are our future traders, fishermen, cooks and potters. We need them all. As for you new men, you're about to discover how it feels to work for your daily food. Most of you will eventually follow your fathers but as you go through your next four sun cycles and learn about the way we tend animals, grow and harvest our crops, how we build boats and navigate across the sea, and the ways in which we recall our heritage our traditions our history and heroes, you may find something that interests you more than your father's work. If you do, then express your wishes, if your father's a hunter and you want to be a fisherman, let your wish be known, don't be shy. The main thing is always to be learning. So welcome to manhood young men, work hard and contribute where you can.

He paused, but the excited conversations that