One hundred and five feet above the forest floor Doug Ricter looked out over the darkening forest.
It was his favourite time of the day twilight. He'd watched the sun slip behind the mtns, sipping coffee.
Not as the moon shone on the horizen, and the north star twinkled into sight.
He relaxed tuning in a local AM radio station, swing...big band.
"Great stuff." He muttered listening to Benny Goodmen.
A flare of light caught his attention, picking up his field glass's he scanned the dark wood.
About then the sound reached him a loud thud and grinding metal.
Flames and smoke began drifting up into the night sky.
"No camp fire thats for sure!" He muttered. Grabbing a two way radio and racing down the tower.
He jumped into his forest service truck and took off down the road...
"I'll see if fire and rescue are needed." He thought, know he had the equipment to handle most small bush fires.