I'M BACK HOME in Montana for the Christmas break. It's zero degrees at daybreak, no wind, clear day. It's great to be on the ranch, but there is something I miss. This morning brought it back.

In this holiday season when we show understanding toward others, it helps to know people who spend their lives living in the rural spaces of the country. Most of us who spend our time in cities cannot know about the rural way of life or understand those who identify with the Wise Use movement. Coming back to Montana always helps me understand why people want to protect the life they have here.

This morning was like a morning 23 years ago: Daylight breaking, just below zero, no wind, off to work, a great day in the making. I'd like to share the best part.

Up Taylor Fork of the West Gallatin River, about 15 miles from Yellowstone Park, I heard a beautiful and moving sound. This morning it came back in my mind. It's still beautiful, and it still moves me.

It's quiet at dawn, at zero degrees, at 7,000 feet - no background noise. Any sound captures attention. And I hear this deep, rhythmic, resonant, powerful call. It told me, "Let's go. It's cold out, but we aren't very cold yet and soon we'll both be warm." If the sun stays out and the wind stays down I'll shed my jacket by noon and work in long johns and a shirt until lunch. I'll enjoy the food and the rest. I'll need the recharge.

I wish I could write sounds, for my story is better if you hear this. This sound is compelling, and its message is passing. This and other sounds of the West remind people of better times.

The sound starts deep, regular and rhythmic. It's loud but muffled. We can't see its source, yet we know what it is - but today it's a bit different. What's happened?

A faller's saw wouldn't start, and he's standing on the tracks of a D 7 Cat with his chain saw over the exhaust. They're warming up together. His saw will start; the Cat's wake-up purr will shift to a good working growl, changing with load and slope.

We were good at doing solid work, making logs from trees and getting them to a mill where they were converted to products people wanted. Although few on the crew thought of it this way, we were part of the international economy. Our work in the woods was economic coordination spontaneously at work. Here are the details we experienced and enjoyed.

Cutters put standing trees on the ground without hanging the falling trees on others. They stuck the nail of the tape on the butt of what would become the first log. They walked the tree, limbing it on the way, then bucked it to log length, two or three logs per tree. Skidders jumped off their Cats, set chokers on two to six logs, swung back into the Cat and hit the winch.

The mainline of the rigging tightened, and the chokers came taut. Maneuvering the Cat to avoid hang-ups on stumps, the skidder headed for the landing. He'd unhook the chokers and deck the logs, then spin the Cat and go for another turn. Football linebackers and collegiate wrestlers are well-suited to this work.

It was great! I miss it still. And I didn't need a workout before going to work.

We worked together and with nature. The faller and Cat skinner warming engines together, falling and bucking were with an eye toward choker setting and skidding; otherwise the snow would soon hide the logs. The work, the action, the coordination, the clear and unambiguous value of what we produced, I liked it a lot. Occasionally, when looking for something else in the ranch's shop, I find artifacts of those years.

The story of that morning 23 years ago illustrates parts of the Wise Use philosophy so many critics ignore: strength, skill, trust, teamwork producing real products with obvious value. Neglecting these values in the interest of promoting a "new West," all green and sensitive but absent grease and guts, isn't fully honest.

As lattes replace logging boots, arrogance often overrides empathy. There are good people out there who identify with Wise Use. They have different and competing visions for the West's future. I thought of them this holiday season.

I respect the best of these people just as I respect the best of my academic colleagues. I can't forget them even though I work more with symbols than with metal and drink wine rather than whiskey. The world they envision is no more. Like the open range, it can't be preserved in its old form. I'd like to help smooth the transition to a sustainable economy that respects liberty and recognizes the culture of our recent past.

This is the holiday season that stresses good will to all. I hope we will have enough good will to realize that there are values of the old that would benefit the new Northwest. Perhaps we can build new communities with shared values of liberty and environmental quality. This is my goal for the new year. You are welcome to join me.