Louisa told me she wants to be a writer. She’s been jotting down poems about her mountain life. One of the poems she calls “My Mountain Home.” She says she’s still working on it, but with her per mission, I copied down a few of the verses.

  My Mountain Home

  There’s an old weather bettion house

  That stands near a wood

  With an orchard near by it

  For almost 100 years it has stood.

  It was my house in infency

  It sheltered me in youth

  When I tell you I love it

  I tell you the truth

  But now the park commissioner

  Comes all dressed up so gay

  Saying this old house of yours

  We must now take away.

  So far, the Walker sisters haven’t left. The park service tried to get them to leave like all the other families, but they refused to go.

  Dad closed the journal.

  “Well, now we know how Louisa felt about this becoming a park,” Mom commented.

  “I wonder if people will read our journals when we’re older,” James mused.

  The Parkers drove through historic Cataloochee Valley, passing some old homesteads, a school, and a church. As they approached the end of the road, Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad noticed other visitors gazing at the fields.

  James pressed his hands against the window and stared out. “I wonder what they’re looking at.”

  Mom pulled over and parked the car.

  The Parkers walked up to join a small crowd of people.

  “Look out there!” James exclaimed.

  A herd of female elk was grazing about.

  James started counting. “There are six of them,” he announced.

  Dad looked all around. “There’s a bull elk, off in the distance.”

  Suddenly another bull elk pranced out of the forest. It arched its neck, opened its mouth, and bugled loudly. Then it put its antlers down and trotted over to the other male.

  The two males looked at each other and then charged, locking their antlers. They pushed and shoved each other back and forth. After several minutes, one of the elk ran away.

  Morgan looked at Mom. “Did they hurt each other?”

  “It seemed like they were just sparring to get ready for the rutting season,” Mom replied. “That’s when the males battle it out for the females.”

  “Yeah, the big action will be in the fall,” Dad added.

  The family watched the female elk graze while one of the males stood close by. The hazy, smoky air cooled as the sun slipped below the hills. Morgan snapped several photos.

  Mom sighed. “I guess we better go get our campsite now.”

  The Parkers piled back into the car and drove to the campground for the night.

  • • •

  The next morning, the Parkers were back, exploring Cataloochee Valley.

  They approached the old school and noticed tons of cars parked there and by the nearby chapel. Around the side of the church, tables were set up with all kinds of food. James noticed the dessert. “Apple pie!” he exclaimed. But there was also fried chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs, green beans, and other dishes.

  “Looks like they’re getting ready for a feast!” Mom exclaimed.

  A woman near the front of the church started speaking to the people gathered around. Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad stood off to the side and listened.

  “Welcome to another reunion of the family and friends of those who once lived in the Cataloochee area. I can see the Caldwells, Messers, Hannahs, Woodys, and Palmers here, and many, many others. It’s great to see all of you back visiting the park again! As usual, we have some of our favorite foods to feast on and traditional Appalachian music to get our toes tapping. So thank you all again for coming, and dig in…That food is fixin’ to be eaten!”

  The crowd let out a holler, then people began to make their way toward the buffet.

  “I wish I was from here!” James commented while eyeing the food.

  The Parkers watched for a moment. “We should probably go,” Mom said. “I feel like we’ve invaded someone’s private party.”

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad walked away from the church and headed into the white schoolhouse.

  The schoolroom was full of desks in rows of four. An old chalkboard was at the front. The family sat down in the first and second row. Morgan looked around. “Wow. Schoolrooms sure have changed,” she said.

  James spontaneously stepped to the front of the class and faced his family. “Okay, everyone,” James spoke like a teacher. “It’s time to get ready for your next lesson.”

  Dad egged James on. “Show us what you’ve got!”

  James tapped on the chalkboard with a pretend piece of chalk. “It’s afternoon now,” teacher James instructed, “and that means it’s time for math.” He stared at his three pupils.

  Mom, Dad, and Morgan looked up at James for further instructions.

  James scanned the whole classroom, imagining it was fully occupied. “Okay, I see that you’re all ready,” James smiled. “Well, today we’re learning long division.”

  Using his fingers, James wiped dust off the chalkboard and traced out 1,075 divided by 6. Then James started explaining the problem. “The six goes into the ten, once, and…”

  “School on our vacation, yuck!” Morgan muttered to herself.

  “One times six is six. Put the six under the ten and subtract. That gives you four. Now bring down the seven and…”

  Morgan stopped paying attention to the pretend lesson. She put her head down on the desk and pictured herself in this very same classroom, many years ago.

  Children were piling into the schoolhouse from outside, wearing old-fashioned clothes. The girls were all in long dresses. Morgan sat straight up. Six girls of various ages found desks nearby.

  “I see you’re new here,” one girl said. “Let me tell you what to expect.”

  “Okay,” Morgan nodded.

  “I’m Margaret,” the girl explained. “Since it’s afternoon, we’ll be learning math right away. But that’s not all we do. The morning is for writing, spelling, and grammar. And later today we’ll do some handwriting. Oh—and I hope you’re ready for Parents’ Day tomorrow. It’s Friday, and we’re having a spelling bee!”

  “A spelling bee?!”

  “Yes, with all of our parents watching!”

  “Really?” Morgan sat up anxiously.

  “Can you spell Cataloochee?”

  “C-A-T-A-L-O-O-C-H-E-E,” Morgan spelled carefully in her mind.

  “Excellent!”

  Morgan noticed the six girls had similar-styled dresses on. “Are you all sisters?”

  “Uh-huh,” Margaret replied. “We’re the Walker sisters. This is Nancy, Martha, Polly, Louisa, Hettie, and I’m Margaret.” She introduced her five sisters while each of them nodded.

  “Nice to meet you,” Morgan said. She noticed Margaret’s lunch basket. “What do you have in there?”

  “Oh, cornbread, jam, and…” Margaret reached into her bag and pulled out a large red, ripe apple. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away, you know!”

  Morgan heard three taps on her desk. She quickly sat up. James was standing next to her trying to look serious. “Are you paying attention, young lady?” he asked, then started laughing.

  Morgan smiled at her brother.

  Mom looked at Morgan and James, then stood up. “I think school’s out for the day. And all of us are excused.”

  “Yeah!” James called out, quickly sounding like a ten-year-old again.

  The Parkers ambled back outside. “Come on,” Dad said, “I want us to see a couple more things around here.”

  Dad drove the family toward the historic Palmer House. They examined the small museum’s artifacts from the area and listened to the recordings about pioneer and Native American life.

  Afterward, they walked to the nearby cemetery.

  An elderly woman was putting some plastic flowers on a grave site. She bent down and pushed the flowers into the ground. Then the woman quietly spoke to the grave. She slowly stood back up and gingerly made her way back down the hill, passing the Parkers along the way.

  The cemetery had a number of tombstones. Some were small, some large, and some adorned with flowers. The Parkers walked around, reading the engravings.

  “Here’s a child who only lived for two years!” James called out.

  “She was just a baby,” Mom commented.

  “And here’s an eight-year-old who died,” Morgan said.

  “Pioneering in these mountains was a hard life,” Dad reflected. “Until vaccines were discovered, it was not uncommon for young children and adults to die from diseases that we no longer have to worry about.”

  Mom walked up to a tombstone. “Here’s a woman who lived a long time.”

  Dad stepped over and looked at the dates on the tomb. “Hey, Mr. Math,” Dad called out, “this person was born in 1839 and passed away in 1931. So how old was she when she died?”

  James stopped walking and thought for a moment.

  “Ninety-two!” Morgan blurted out.

  “Correct!” Mom said proudly.

  Later that day, the Parkers drove the back roads between Cataloochee and Cosby. The gravel road skirted the park border and the forest.

  After the scenic drive, they arrived at Cosby campground. James, Morgan, Mom, and Dad set up camp. Then Dad lay back on the bench of the campsite’s picnic table and stared at the jungle of trees above.

  Morgan and James also looked up. “There are so many leaves, I can barely see the sky,” Morgan said.

  As dusk approached and the evening slowly cooled, Dad started a fire. They all sat around, eating toasted marshmallows. “We’ll miss this on the trail,” Mom mentioned as she gobbled up a singed treat.

  James stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “Me too,” Morgan added.

  James looked at Mom and Dad. “We’ll be right back.”

  Morgan walked over to the sink to wash her hands. She looked up. There were a bunch of large moths clinging to the wall.

  Each moth was different. One was small, the size Morgan expected moths to be, with light, translucent yellow wings. Several medium-sized moths had interesting patterns of color on their wings.

  Morgan gazed at another moth closer to the ceiling. That one is tiny, she thought. Morgan stood on her tiptoes and studied the moth. It was peach-colored, with an orange-yellow head and miniature red antennas.

  Morgan heard a loud knock. She jumped back from the wall.

  James called out from the men’s room, “Morgan, are you there?”

  “Yes,” Morgan answered, trying not to be too loud.

  “You have to see these moths!” James shouted.

  “Meet me outside, okay?” Morgan replied.

  James and Morgan dashed out of the bathrooms and nearly ran into each other. “One’s huge and it’s colored funny,” James blurted out. “The lower half of its wings are light gray and see-through. The top part is orange and white, like a butterfly. Do you want to come and look?”

  Morgan took a step back. “I’m not going in there. Besides,” she added, “there are interesting moths in my bathroom too.” Morgan smirked at her brother. “Do you want to come and look?”

  “No!” James replied.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Morgan called out. She grabbed James’s arm and led him quickly toward camp. Mom and Dad were sitting by the fire. Dad was reviewing the park map and a hiking book. Mom was reading a chapter from It Happened in the Great Smokies, a book with stories of the events and people that helped make Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Mom looked up. “You two were gone quite a while.”

  Morgan opened the car door and started frantically searching. She stood up and looked toward Mom and Dad. “Have you seen my camera?”

  “I think it’s in the glove box,” Dad replied.

  Morgan found her camera then looked at James. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Mom inquired.

  “There are these incredible moths in the bathrooms,” Morgan informed her parents. “We’re going to take pictures.”

  Mom looked at Dad. “Interesting,” she stated. “Just don’t disturb the moths, okay?”

  Morgan and James dashed back toward the bathrooms.

  A few minutes later they came trotting back. “You guys have to see these!” James announced.

  Morgan flipped through pictures of the moths on her digital camera.

  “I really like the small one with the soft, yellow wings,” Dad commented. “But they’re all beautiful.”

  Mom smiled. “I believe we have two budding entomologists on our hands. Insect scientists in the family: I love it!”

  6

  Dad drove to the nearby overnight parking lot.

  A white van with a Great Smoky Mountains Shuttle logo on it drove up. “There’s the ride to our backpack on the Appalachian Trail,” Mom announced.

  Morgan, James, Mom, and Dad threw their packs into the back of the van and piled in.

  “Are you the Parkers?” the driver asked.

  “That’s us,” Mom replied.

  The shuttle driver turned down the road leading out of Cosby.

  A while later, the driver looked into her rearview mirror and spoke. “Did you hear about that rescue near Mount LeConte the other day?”

  Dad looked up. “Rescue?”

  “Yes,” the driver reported. “Apparently a guy got seriously injured and couldn’t hike on. A Ridge Runner, a person who patrols the AT Trail, had to radio for help.”

  “What happened to him?” Morgan asked.

  “I heard he had to be helicoptered out. It was a life-threatening situation.”

  “So that’s why we saw the helicopter up there!” James exclaimed.

  Morgan took a deep breath. “Is he okay now?”

  “I’m not sure,” the driver answered. “I haven’t heard any more news. But I did hear it was touch and go for a while.”

  The Parkers gazed at the scenery along Highway 321, which borders the park. They passed back through busy, touristy Gatlinburg.

  Soon they were on Newfound Gap Road. Eventually the van driver turned toward Clingmans Dome and headed for the park’s highest peak.

  At the end of the road the Parkers grabbed their food and small packs and said good-bye to the driver.

  “See you at one o’clock,” Dad called out.

  The driver gave Dad a thumbs-up signal and nodded her head. “You got it!”

  Mom led the way on a 1.8-mile wet, sloshy trail to Andrews Bald.

  The trail wove through a dark, mossy forest. Morgan gazed into the mysterious woods. “Where are the gnomes?”

  Dad laughed. “It does look like a perfect place for them, doesn’t it?”

  James turned toward Mom. “What’s a bald?”

  “I was wondering that myself,” Mom replied, “so I looked it up in our guidebook. Apparently there are a few open areas on the tops of ridges here. Andrews Bald is one of them.”

  The Parkers hiked on. A short while later, the dense thicket of trees gave way to an open field of grasses, wildflowers, and small bushes.

  “I guess this is a bald,” Dad said.

  Mom walked toward some small boulders in the grass. “This looks like a good spot for a picnic,” she announced.

  Dad reached into his backpack, pulled out a blanket, and spread it out. Mom got out some sandwiches, fruit, and crackers. James and Morgan took out the juice. The Parkers sprawled out on Andrews Bald and ate while enjoying the hazy views.

  SHORT ON TOP

  There are several high-elevation balds in the Great Smoky Mountains. Andrews Bald is one of the best known. Historically, farmers would drive their livestock to the highest balds in the summer. Grazing cattle would keep many of these areas free of trees. Today, the park service maintains the balds by cutting back the new growth.

  James took a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Good idea, Mom,” he said with his mouth half full.

  The sun disappeared behind a cloud. A flickering of light was followed several seconds later by a low, persistent drumroll of thunder.

  “It sounds like the sky’s stomach is growling again,” Morgan said.

  Mom pulled out the parkas just as the first drops of rain plunked down. “Always be prepared,” she said.

  They quickly packed up their picnic and headed for the forest just as the storm broke loose.

  Rain pelted down on the trail, which quickly resembled a trickling stream. The Parkers hustled along and caught up to a man carrying an insect net. The man plodded along slowly, unfazed by the weather.

  “Excuse us,” Mom said as she led her family by.

  James passed the man last and asked, “What are you trying to catch?”

  Morgan, Mom, and Dad stopped and listened for the answer.

  “I work for the National Park Service,” the man replied. “We’re out here studying certain types of flies. But right now volunteers all over the park are doing what is called a bio-blitz. Naturalists are working around the clock to identify as many living things as possible, and we’re sure finding a lot, even some insects we didn’t know existed.”

  “We saw some pretty unusual moths at our campground bathroom,” Morgan informed him.

  “Ah, yes, moths and butterflies,” the man mused. “We are very interested in those too, and we’ve recently discovered at least fifty new species here! We now know that there are over 1,600 species of moths and butterflies that live in the Smokies.”

  “Did you see that black-and-red-striped beetle back there on the trail?” James asked.

  “Beetles, the most common of all insects,” the man replied. “There are over 250,000 beetle species in the world, and the Smokies has over 2,500 types. I didn’t see the beetle you were talking about, though. I wish I had.

  “This whole place is an entomologist’s gold mine,” the man continued. “We think there might be over 100,000 total forms of life in the park. That may be the most in one place on the planet.”

 

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