The secret man-forest dialogue
Il bosco (IAT Auronzo - Misurina - Tre Cime)

Not all Auronzo’s visitors are aware of the ancient secret shared by forests and man. You can hear it if you stand stock still, in silence, on a path gradually petering out into the conifers; you can feel it on a footpath on which the horizon is invisible or resting a hand on the bark of a tree, taking a photo of a flower, listening to the barking of deer in autumn, drinking from a little stream or carefully examining a mushroom’s gills. Auronzo’s forests speak to a traveller’s most intimate being, the part which is like a mirror looking into things.
It is a whisper, a murmur, which somehow succeeds in making an expanse of trees and clearings something more intriguing and enigmatic: on mossy footpaths, through mazes of ancient ‘taute’, the trunks of the trees that once were, taking us into nature’s perfect equilibrium in which the elements work together to create a pulsing, vivid image. Sensing this requires getting lost, including on a straightforward morning stroll when the forest undergrowth is still moist with dew.

Through the forests’ acoustics, sounds echo and remain impressed on the wood, which was precious for the Venetian Serenissima Republic, too: the famous Somadida forest, this reserve in San Marco, where fauna and flora are guarded in a veritable treasure trove whose precious wood was once used to build the best part of the Venetian fleet.
It seems obvious that this phenomenon can take place elsewhere, where forests are even more imposing, but in Auronzo literature teaches us that the dialogue between man and nature has something inherently magical about it: just read Belluno author Dino Buzzati’s Il Segreto del Bosco Vecchio - the secret of the old forest - with its effective descriptions of this curious phenomenon, made into film version right here in Auronzo. Roe deer, deer, foxes and badgers do not speak but their presence is replete with a world of silences, tiny sounds, signals and vital intuitions.
From far away, stretched out against the wind, we see them and measure them up to our chaotic everyday worlds of sometimes banal words: they raise their heads, their ears and, as soon as they hear us, they run away. In the forest, in Val da Rin or Val Marzon, during the evening, we become silent animals once again: hunting out images with our binoculars, our cameras or just our eyes and remembering the past in our DNA in which perception and intuition meant survival.

Auronzo di Cadore’s forests oblige us to think with no other horizon, just as when we raise our eyes to the mountains it reminds us of the immensity of nature and the breadth of its shadows.

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