I use the term "woods" instead of its synonym "forest" because it seems more domestic and appropriate for the territory of Topolò.
In 1905, in the research study “Erborizzazione del bacino medio del Natisone”, the botanist Michelangelo Minio, a lecturer at the School Center of San Pietro al Natisone, wrote about woods: “The woods proper are entirely absent [...] as the tall trees are scattered [...] but mostly sufficiently sparse to allow, beneath them, the cultivation of meadows,” and that “the abundance of trees is negatively affected by the progress of cultivation, since, as cultivated plots increase, the mountain slopes are gradually stripped of old trees, which fall every year in considerable numbers without ever being replaced.” (1)

Minio's observations and concerns, which seem to foreshadow the complete deforestation of the Valleys of Natisone, are connected to two events.

The first concerns the policies of the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia, which, between 1830 and 1860, through public auction, alienated land managed collectively by the community (called kamunje) of each village under the system of emphyteusis. The lands sold, divided into lots and consisting of woods, chestnut groves, and pastures, represented the largest extension of the territory belonging to each village and can be seen on cadastral maps as elongated rectangles adjacent to one another, with straight borders that ignore the orography of the land. Essentially, the lands that had always been in the communal possession of farming families were privatized, with an annual fee for their use. This fraudulent operation ended the culture of pasturing and the proper balance between private and collective property, and paradoxically led to an increase in work and effort for livestock farming in barns.

The second event concerns the growth of the population: in 1921, with 17,640 residents in the seven municipalities of the Valleys of Natisone, the peak population was reached, and every area of land transformed into fields or meadows became indispensable for the survival of the large family units.

Now, having been born in Topolò in 1950 and having lived in and frequented the village continuously, walking at least once through every stretch of its land, I can say that I have witnessed firsthand the immense transformation of the territory. From a variety of agricultural areas (fields, orchards, chestnut groves, meadows, and woods) that formed a differentiated and complex agricultural landscape, it gradually shifted to a vegetation cover that appears homogeneous, preserving only faint traces of its past.

The last attempt to stop the advance of the woods was made in 1975 when the Topolò community (with 264 residents in 1961 and 128 in 1971) gathered to form a cooperative with the aim of using the remaining meadows for sheep grazing. 95% of the families joined the cooperative by paying a symbolic fee, which was a surprising event considering the ancestral attachment to property held by the inhabitants of the Valleys of Natisone. 300 sheep were purchased from Bosnia, and the adventure (with a dose of unpreparedness) began, lasting for about fifteen years. From a problematic start without any equipment, the project advanced, with the help of regional contributions, to the construction of fixed fences made of metal mesh across the entire northern slope of S. Martino, Kjuč, Škarje, and the building of a new barn in Zamalnam. The main difficulties were securing hay for the winter period and opposing the hunters who damaged the fences, and at times, let their dogs attack the sheep. Despite the troubled experience, the cooperative left a sense of community and solidarity among the inhabitants of Topolò.

But let's return to the woods.

The main woods were located in the area of Za Topolovem, to the right of the ridge path leading to the Brjeza pass, in Javrca, on the slope that rises from the border marker to the Brjeza ridge, and along the front by the Koderjana stream in the municipality of Drenchia. These places can still be identified today by the predominant presence of beech trees, which lend the environment a certain order of aesthetic value.

For the children of Topolò, these woods were places of both hard work and play.

In the afternoon, after elementary school, small groups of children (both boys and girls) would go to collect dry branches, which, when tied into bundles, were carried home and used for the stove’s fire. Finding good firewood – beech – was particularly difficult, and it was often necessary to climb the trees to cut the best branch with a hatchet.

Sundays, on the other hand, were reserved for bird nest hunting and chasing dormice.

Particularly sought after and valued were the nests of jays and hawks. The goal was to take a young bird, already weaned, just before it left the nest, and raise it at home.

The jay typically builds its nest at the top of tall beech trees, and reaching the nest was no small task; hawks, on the other hand, nest near the tops of large fir trees or in inaccessible rocky cliffs.

The jay was particularly appreciated, a bird of about 35 cm in length with a hazel-colored plumage and bright blue details. The particularity of this bird is that it can be easily fed with varying food and can be domesticated; but most notably, it has the ability to mimic the sounds of other birds and the calls of domestic animals (cats, dogs, sheep).

Dormice, which take refuge in holes in rocks or trees during the day, were caught using smoke circulated into their shelters: the animals, after sneezing several times, would emerge from their dens slightly dazed and were therefore easier to capture.

Still linked to early childhood – when the young boy was given his first sickle, allowing him to join the group of men who would reach the hayfields of Kjuč or Brjeza early in the morning – are the places of Duration.

Duration is that feeling so exceptionally described by Peter Handke in a song, which, due to an inexplicable phenomenon of the mind, selects certain places in one’s existence to elevate them to unique places, without necessarily having particular spectacular qualities or beauty.

Two are the places in my life that possess these characteristics.

The first is located in Doročica, just below the Brjeza pass, where in a small plot we had a rugged meadow with three small mounds: it was a tiny valley on a slope, bordered by rocky outcrops with a single point of access, and in front of it, a break in the rocks with a grassy rise that created a perspective of emptiness and distance. In this place, lunch was eaten after the morning's work, and a small rock platform served as a table. Despite the passage of time, the place has not undergone significant transformations, and even the few new trees have not managed to alter it.

The second place is called Zakripa, just beyond the Kjuč pass: it is a meadow in the shape of a long rectangle, with the shorter side of about 20 meters and the longer side of some several hundred meters, rising steeply towards the summit of Mount Škarje. In this case, the duration is due to what I would call an aesthetic perception: the mowing of the grass covered by morning dew formed rows of colorful flower heaps on which thousands of multicolored grasshoppers leaped, and the rapid advance of the mowing along the slope created a long perspective of colorful lines, which I now associate with the painting Highway and Byways by Paul Klee, of which I was unaware at the time. This place has undergone a significant transformation with a dense new tree plantation, so I struggle to recognize the old oak under which we used to have lunch.

At least once a year, I have always visited these two places.

And now?

Now, the territory, almost completely covered by trees, is a source of recreation for me.

There are two ways to cross the woords: the first is by following a clean, more or less marked trail to reach a point of arrival and return; the second is to venture freely among the trees, using only the direction as a reference. Additionally, one can walk with others or alone. I’ll say right away that I prefer to walk alone or, at most, with someone who has similar qualities of endurance and flexibility.

Walking along a clean trail allows you to cover a distance in more or less a set amount of time, with a steady and rhythmic movement of the legs and body; the observation and perception of the environment are confined and determined by the path of the trail, and the consistency and security of the walk allow the mind to be occupied with projects and daily life events.

When I have enough time available, I prefer to venture into the forest free from the constraints of marked trails, following an approximate direction to reach a predetermined location. In this case, all my attention is focused on finding the best possible path to avoid the natural obstacles encountered in succession. The movement of the body no longer follows a rhythmic pattern, but is constantly changing to climb over fallen trees or navigate rocky areas; even the arms participate in the movement, and to maintain balance, it is often necessary to hang onto or hold onto vines or trees. The mind is entirely focused on identifying the best route based on the given conditions and on the careful observation, which constantly changes, of the natural environment.

At times, the sense of disorientation and the fear of getting lost intensify concentration and complete submission to the places traversed. In moments of uncertainty, an important aid comes from the tracks of animals, particularly roe deer, which are generally sedentary and move within a defined territory. These paths, perfectly traced to avoid obstacles, typically cross the mountain slopes following the contour lines with points of descent to the valley or ascent to the peaks.

It goes without saying that I consider free walking the best way to discover and understand the woods and the vital force of nature.