Days on the Allegheny A True Tale By Joe Ewing The quiet was deafening. The only sound I could hear was the snowflakes as they splashed onto the dried leaves of the beech. The noises of the pileated woodpecker were silent. The majestic woodpecker couldn’t be heard knocking at dead trees in search of their prey or making their wuking cr-r-ruck calls. The conspiring caws and squawks of the noisy ravens were suppressed. Not a squirrel or a chick-a-dee moved. Even the manmade high-pitched whine of the forever present chainsaw and the throaty rumble of the mighty log skidder were still. It was all in...