of large baking pans, hanging under the eaves. Dotted with crude
perforations like a giant cheese grater, these trays are used for stripping
pinecones. In addition to being prime building material, the Korean pine
produces nuts, usually in cycles of three or four years. These nuts, which
grow inside the cones, look like oversized corn kernels in a durable
brown shell. Once on the ground, they can remain viable—and edible—
for years. They are a cruder, earthier cousin to European and North
American pine nuts: not as sweet and with a bit more turpentine.
Nonetheless, a taste for them is easy to acquire, and they can be as
addictive as sunflower seeds. More than a century ago, Far Eastern
settlers called them “Siberian conversation” due to the central role they
played in frontier social gatherings where few other delicacies (or
pastimes) existed.^4 They have also been called “the bread of the forest”
because they can be ground into flour; oil can be extracted from them as
well. Pine nuts are a staple for bear, deer, elk, and boar, not to mention
humans and countless smaller creatures. They have even been found in
the scat of tigers.
If there were such a thing as decadal time-lapse photography, one
would be able to observe a series of incongruous processions trailing
across the high country of Primorye: Korean pine forests following the
lay of the land; deer, boar, and bear following the pinecones (which tend
to roll downhill); the rootings of these creatures, in turn, advancing the
cause of germinating pine seeds. Leopards, tigers, and wolves follow the
deer and boar while crows and vultures follow them. Humans and rodents
bring up the rear. All of these creatures play a role in disseminating the
seeds still further, thus helping to define and push the boundaries—not
just of the Korean pine’s range, but that of each participating species. It is
not overstating the case to say that Korean pine nuts, as small and
innocuous as they are, represent the hub around which the wheel of life
here revolves. Whoever isn’t eating the nuts themselves is eating the
creatures who do. And yet, so well disguised are they that a visitor could
walk the length and breadth of Primorye and never notice them. After all,
who eats pinecones? This is both wonderful and frightening to consider: