I live in rural West Virginia, far and away
from technology and the modern rat race of life. And that is how
I like it. That is why I live here. I am of Native American descent,
and chose this way of life and my location carefully, as did many other
people who live in the area. Several years ago, large trucks carrying
large pieces of something started showing up. Before long, several
Wind Turbines were erected on the top ridge of the Mountain. ("The
mountain" is what
the local folks call Backbone Mountain Ridge, here in Tucker County.)
More and more trucks came and, in time, the whole ridge of the mountain
skyline was lined with Wind Turbines. A wide path of timber was cut to
make room for them, and the debris from this was just tossed over the
hill, leaving large piles of brush, and the workers' trash underneath.
I did not know much about wind turbines, and so, I reserved my judgment.
At first I learned that the community and the county were all for them,
and excited about the arrival, for they said that there would be financial
gains, and jobs created in the area from the project.
I walked on my normal walk in the woods one day, and looked up to the
top of the mountain. Just several months before it had been a picturesque
view of wilderness beauty...the kind that attracts tourists, and creates
much of the state's income. Now, it was lined with these tall mechanical
monsters, towering over the trees of an old forest. I am not talking
about the quaint and charming windmills of Holland here, we are talking
about metal, and flashing lights, and a size that miniaturizes the grand
forest beneath it.
I remember that day, for I stood there, and felt just as my ancestors
must have felt when they watched the railroad coming across the country
into their land, and into their life...and there was nothing, absolutely
nothing they could do to stop it once it began. I had a gut feeling. Instinct
reaction. My mind whispered..."they are coming".
Still, I tried to keep an open mind, and learn more. Perhaps, if they
are environmentally safe...if they provide jobs, and revenue...perhaps
for the good of all they are worth the eye sore. So, I took a walk up
the mountain, the four miles they are from my home in the little valley
below, and stood beneath the machines.
The noise was incredible. It surprised me. It sounded like airplanes or
helicopters. And it traveled. Sometimes you could not hear the sound standing
right under one, but you heard it 3,000 yards down the hill, where the
wind carried the sound. My good friend, who lives right near them, says
she can hear them with the doors to her house closed sometimes.
I looked around me, to a place where months before had been prime country
for deer, wild turkey, and yes, black bear, to see positively no sign
of any of the animals about at all. This alarmed me, so I scouted in the
woods that afternoon. I am accustomed to these woods, and know
them and the signs of animals well. All afternoon, I found no sign, sight,
or peek of any animal about.
I did notice, in the next few months, that the animals were more abundant
down here in the valley, in the farmers' fields and such. Places that
they had steered away from before, they now were in, and causing trouble
for man, and, in turn, getting shot. I saw more bear and bob cats in the
populated areas than I had ever seen. I went up to the windmills several
times to check, and it seemed that the animals had moved away from that
area. There were no sight of them, no prints, no sign.
I also noticed more flooding in the valley below. Each and every rain
storm seems to make the creeks rise out of their banks, and cause damage
to fields, and roads, and all the things we humans depend upon. I have
tried to inquire as to any studies being done on the effects of water
runoff from disturbing the top of the mountain to this degree, and the
erosion, and impact of leaving the timber lay, but I am answered with
blank stares, and minds that have already decided that the Wind Turbine
Project is good, and will stay.
In fact, I am seen as a trouble maker, a tree hugger, and a "granola"
for being concerned. It seems as if one is not really allowed to ask questions,
once the monsters start their invasion.
All the while, I look up to the top of the hills my Father, Grandfather,
and Great Great Grandfather called home...and watch more monsters come.
The value of property here is directly related to it being a scenic area.
This is not the scenery I would travel to go see if I were a tourist.
Are we cutting out our state's main revenue of tourism to try to gain
a little revenue from the monsters?
Will it work? Is there a true gain in jobs? In revenue? Is it environmentally
safe?
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