It doesn’t look like much from the grid road. Just an approach with deep tire ruts chewed into the summer Saskatchewan mud, tall jack pine and spruce trees clustered at its opening like a gateway. But if you walk past that first line of trees and down the narrow working trail, it fans out into a pocket of open space. Scattered there are stumps, piles of dirt and roughage, logs that are too small or too large stacked to the side — the aftermath of a logging sweep, both bare and messy. That pocket opens further into a clearing, a few hundred acres in size, that was logged the spring before. Grass now pokes through the churned-up dirt; grasshoppers chirp in the still July heat. Across the clearing, even if you can’t see it through the trees that dot the far side, is the northern town of Big River, Sask. It’s just a few hundred metres away.