Forgive the logging pun, but no matter how you slice it, a tree is always more valuable standing. For all the flooring and furniture trees can provide, their return on investment is greatest when they are left rooted to the ground.
Some of us simply need to stand among the trees to understand their value. We don’t require scientific proof, like the recently published study from Simon Fraser University in British Columbia, placing a dollar value on trees based on their capacity to offset greenhouse gases. The study concluded that a preserved forest has greater economic value than the timber, telephone poles and “high value-added” wood products that trees provide.
As a child, I innately recognized the value of trees. I was fascinated with the three evergreens my father planted on our small property. I watched those trees mature for over a decade and marveled at how they enhanced uninspired architecture in a sterile suburb.
I am now blessed to walk among centuries-old cedar, spruce, hemlock and other trees. Millions of them, in fact. So many, that you might think cutting down a few hundred thousand wouldn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things. After all, a whole bunch of other trees will be planted in their place – a quick-growing, non-indigenous species that, if it survives, may have commercial value in three or four decades.
Forestry practices are improving in many parts of the world. But, the best replanting schemes can’t replace the majestic giants that filter and oxygenate our air, protect the fish spawning streams and provide a protective canopy for an abundance of species. The ancient trees ensure that nutrient rich earth clings to steep mountainsides so that other plants can thrive. That’s mission impossible for a freshly-planted Douglas fir sapling or a new aspen.
Humans have depended on wood for millennia and will continue to do so. Let’s face it: there are legitimate reasons for cutting down a tree, particularly when it is done with respect and reverence. But the logging of old growth forests lost its legitimacy long ago. As a consumer of word products, always ask where the wood came from, if it was harvested sustainably and certified to legitimate forest stewardship standards. Better yet, seek out reclaimed wood products. For every wood product purchased, plant a tree that is indigenous to the area.
I live in Tofino, British Columbia where every year, thousands of tourists spend big bucks to see trees that are between 800 and 1300 years old, the largest of which is 60 feet in circumference. These trees have survived high winds, fires and tsunamis. They were spared from logging in a series of non-violent protests over two decades ago. The visitors eat, shop and stay in town. More importantly, they slow down, breathe fresh air and connect with nature. Thanks to the trees, the local economy is healthier, the tourists are healthier and the environment is healthier…for the long term.
It is easy to put a price on the timber cut out of our old growth forests, but any way you slice it, a tree left standing is priceless.
I can smell the air, alive, verdant, pure energy.
I'm sad to be having two red oak cut down this month. They'll make good firewood even next winter because the trees are dead and will require little seasoning in preparation. Many hardwoods are dying in north Georgia because of the unremitting drought.
But, man, do I know the smell you're talking about. Especially in the darker stretches with pine needles underfoot. The Smokie Mountains is one area that comes to mind.
I wonder what year it was when human population outstripped the earth's ability to sustain all its inhabitants reasonably and healthfully? My guess would be that it was sometime at the beginning of the 20th century. But I've never seen it calculated.
I've heard of people choosing to be shroud-buried in old growth forests making efficient exhumation nearly impossible. It's like saying, it'll be over my dead body that you'll destroy this God-garden.
I'd like to use my carcass to that end.
Anyway, thanks for the post!
amen.
Thanks Dana, I appreciate your comments. Never been to the Smokie Mountains but I am captivated by the fragrance of different forests. I lived in Kananaskis Country in Alberta and the sweet, earthy aroma of the dry, boreal forest in the summer was amazing.
Curtis, is Kananskis Country sort of like Scotland? I looked at some pictures, and it struck me as similar…God's country.
The Smokies are the oldest mountain range in the world. In the Nantahala National Forest–which is just south of the Smokies– there is a slowly ascending path that runs along a creek to a small waterfall of stunningly cold water. It roams past small crevaces that are so wet that moss grow fingers. Wild rhododendron drip in wandering fog. This is feminine, stiring deep genetic memories in the form of utterances that have been buried deep somewhere in the gut, conveyed in blood and bowel. You can hear women's voices murmering, cooperating in the spiral of birth.
You breathe the tree-air and you know all this.
Thank you for this post, Curtis! When one takes into account carbon sequestration, erosion and flood protection, and other "services" trees provide, it's hard to make an economic argument for cutting them down irresponsibly. But, as you note, there is value created that goes beyond the simple economic equations…
Dana, Kananaskis is part of the Southern Alberta Rocky Mountain region. It is green and mountainous like parts of Scotland but relatively dry and sun-drenched. Big blue skies and big mountains, I miss it terribly (although I live in a natural paradise on the wild west coast…weather probably quite similar to Scotland.)
You capture the essence of your special place beautifully – I think you have found the new, poetic voice for eco-tourism! I hope to experience the Smokies one day.
Thanks, Curtis. I can't think of anything in the whole world I'd rather talk about more than trees.