The first spruce seedling I checked was alive, but barely, with yellowish needles. Its spindly stem was pathetic. How was it supposed to survive this brutal terrain? I looked up the planted row. All the new seedlings were struggling—every single sad little planting. Why did they look so awful? Why, in contrast, did the wild firs germinating in that old-growth patch look so brilliant? I pulled out my field book, wiped needles off the waterproof cover, and cleaned my glasses. The replanting was supposed to heal what we’d taken, and we were failing miserably. What prescription should I write?
