Hunting for the endangered National Forest of the Northeast

A search for the only national forest in Pennsylvania and New York

I see the orange vest announcing itself from at least seven or eight tree-lengths away. The man wearing it looks low to the ground, in between the witch hazel and hawthorn shrubs. I stop in the middle of the trail, on top of a carpet of oak leaves and slippery soft soil. “Don’t shoot,” I whisper to myself, removing my hood and unzipping my all black jacket. I sheepishly lift my right hand, but the hunter doesn’t wave back. Is his rifle pointed at me? Does he at least have a magnifying scope? There’s no way of telling, other than the fact that I’m still standing.

I walk forward, squishing through the soil that the melted snow has softened. With each step, I wait for the man to move. But he is frozen still. A warbler is singing her warnings overhead. The wind is whispering through the barren hardwood canopy. A sheet of clouds is shifting faster than usual in front of another sheet of clouds. The layers of leaves are padding my footsteps. And finally, when I’m only an acorn’s throw away, the hunter’s face rolls towards me, stops, and then drops. His eyes are closed. He’s asleep.

I stand there for nearly a minute, exhaling the breath I was unknowingly holding, and debating what to do next. I’m in the Allegany State Park, and it’s the beginning of bear season. Although no one told me. As no one does in the wild. The signs were all there though — in…