By Cassie Sevigny
The “Montana huckleberry” isn’t the only variety. There’s another that I found on a visit home, hiking up Wallace Falls with my family. It takes root along streamsides and in rainy forests of western Washington, fanning its leaves over nurse logs, stems tipped with delicate pink berries.
The trail to Wallace Falls starts below buzzing power lines, but as you walk farther into the forest all human noise fades away. Moss and underbrush muffle sound, the rush of the river filtering through the foliage even when you can’t see it. We stopped at a bench near an informational sign. My siblings and I sang the information to each other, creating its story for ourselves in a joyous lingering moment.
My parents identified the red huckleberry plant. Eating one releases a crisp burst of cool tartness, none of the silky blueberry tones that bother me in the Montana variety. I imagined other creatures that met here, birds and chipmunks, all taking a piece for their needs and carrying on. My stepsister could not get enough. Each berry gave a brighter gleeful gleam to her eyes.
“Save some for the bears,” we told her finally. Bears might not come to this particular bush on the trail, but plenty of other bushes in the state park likely see regular bear visitors. In less human-touched areas, bears even fight over huckleberry territory.
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