A walk through the forest is a peaceful stroll. The flutter of leaves high above, the moaning of old and tired tree trunks, and the soothing hush of wind through the canopy tends to drown out the outside world and pacify your attention. Your only distraction is the soothing lullaby of the natural world, a tune-less melody to which your thoughts dance free in the open spaces around you. Soon the comforting shade of the forest around you becomes a cherished sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of the modern world.
In the Copper Country, however, such walks can sometimes take an unexpected turn.
While the wind still blows and the leaves still rustle, there’s another voice softly filtering through the trees. Murmurs in the peripheral, these voices are too soft to discern yet persist none the less. Like fragments of a long lost memory, these forgotten whispers snag your consciousness and slow your step. Besides the forest itself, here in the Copper Country something else is vying for attention.
Though largely indiscernible, these new additions seem out of sync with their surroundings. Slightly out of tune and a beat behind, their peculiarity gives them greater emphasis then sheer amplitude alone. Your attention begins to turn.
Soon the soothing lullaby that has comforted you fades into the background and those forest whispers become more defined. As you begin to listen intently words began to form. Shapes began to rise out of the chaotic confluence of rock and foliage.
Incomprehensible at first, those words began to fall into line and sentences are created.
Order begins to camouflage the chaos, predictability overwhelms the randomness.
What was once nothing but murmurs have become voices. What was once nothing but nonsense has evolved into narrative. There is a story to be told here, one buried by the trees and the leaves and overpowered by the soothing song of the forest.
Yet its a story that strives to be noticed, to be acknowledged. Those voices work feverishly to be heard over the ambiance that surrounds them.
Sometimes those voices find success.
Sometimes they manage to scream across the landscape, saturating the space with a distinct and powerful presence that echoes violently against the world that attempts to contain them.
Sometimes there’s no mistaken their sound, no forgetting their tale. But this is an aberration.
More often those screams are muffled by the world that has passed them by, and those voices have found themselves far from an audience able – or willing – to listen.
After decades of trying to be heard, those voices have been left weak and raspy. Words which were once strong and clear have over time become faint and muddled.
Today those voices have fallen into the background, nothing more then white noise to the constant lullaby of the forest that envelope them.
With their voices muted and their story indiscernible, these whispers in the forest become increasingly hard to hear. They began to blend into the lush greenery of their surroundings and crumbled into the ground from which they sprung. The stories they try to tell only specters of a vanished era. Soon it will be as if they never existed at all.
Yet they did exist. The voices are real and the stories they tell integral parts of who we are. They are reminders of where we came from and what we use to be. They are warnings of our failures, and testaments to our triumphs. They provide context to our place in the world, and provide a roadmap and where to go from here. Those voices are ours, and those stories are about us. If those voices are no longer heard, and those stories are no longer told, then a large part of who we are fades away with them.
That’s why its imperative that those voices are heard, that the stories that they tell are shared with the world. That’s why its important that there are people that can hear those whispers in the forest, and in turn share the tales those voices tell.
Luckily many of us still hear those voices, vanguards of a vanishing wold deserving to be heard and acknowledged.
CCE is one of those vanguards, tuned in to hearing those vanishing voices and helping to tell the story those raspy voices are desperate to share. Using the power of a interconnected world CCE amplifies those soft whispers in the forest and give them a voice – one much louder and far reaching then previously possible. CCE then works tirelessly to tell their stories, bringing light to those pieces of our past quickly fading into darkness. Stories that help define us and our role in the world. This is what it means to keep history alive, an its been CCE’s mission from the beginning.
If you would like this mission to continue, if you want CCE to keep listening to those voices and telling those stories, if you wish to help keep history alive, then please consider participating in our annual fund drive now in its final week. Many of you already have, and for that I thank you. With each calendar ordered, each Field Guide purchased, and each generous donation of support, CCE lives on and those stories keep being told. Over the past ten years of CCE’s life many whispers in the forest have been silenced and many stories have been left untold. Don’t let CCE’s voice fade away as well. Help support its mission today.