What do you think?
Rate this book
348 pages, Hardcover
First published May 4, 2021
British Columbia’s managed forests transformed from carbon sink to carbon source in 2002 [...] Computed from forest growth minus decay, slash pile burning, wildfires, and decomposition of harvested wood products....Furthermore, in a chapter on the Amazon:
A large portion of the forest is now on a knife edge. The Amazon could be heading for an inflection point [tipping point], starting a savannization process whereby its vegetation will assume the characteristics of a degraded savannah…Capitalism’s accelerating short-termism contracts ecological time scales (co-evolution, recycling/reproduction, etc.): A Companion to Marx's Capital
[…] larger trees subsidize the smaller ones with carbon. Blood runs thicker than water. This makes perfect sense from an individual-selection perspective. It’s Darwinian.…This is part of the broader transformations in science, from viewing systems as:
But my work was showing that some carbon also moved to unrelated individuals, ones of an entirely different species.
Mary Thomas had even called the birches Mother Trees—long before I had stumbled onto that notion. Mary’s people had known this of the birches for thousands of years, from living in the forest—their precious home—and learning from all living things, respecting them as equal partners. The word “equal” is where Western philosophy stumbles. It maintains that we are superior, having dominion over all that is nature.…There’s so much to explore with this synthesis of:
“Remember how I said the birches and firs talk to each other underground through a fungal web?” […] I told them I wasn’t the first person to figure this out, that this was also the ancient wisdom of many Aboriginal people. The late Bruce “Subiyay” Miller of the Skokomish Nation, whose people live on the eastern Olympic Peninsula of Washington State, had told a story about the symbiotic nature and diversity of the forest, mentioning that under its floor “there is an intricate and vast system of roots and fungi that keeps the forest strong.” […]
I don’t presume to grasp Aboriginal knowledge fully. It comes from a way of knowing the earth—an epistemology—different from that of my own culture. It speaks of being attuned to the blooming of the bitterroot, the running of the salmon, the cycles of the moon. Of knowing that we are tied to the land—the trees and animals and soil and water—and to one another, and that we have a responsibility to care for these connections and resources, ensuring the sustainability of these ecosystems for future generations and to honor those who came before. Of treading lightly, taking only what gifts we need, and giving back. Of showing humility toward and tolerance for all we are connected to in this circle of life. But what my years in the forestry profession have also shown me is that too many decision-makers dismiss this way of viewing nature and rely only on select parts of science. The impact has become too devastating to ignore. We can compare the condition of the land where it has been torn apart, each resource treated in isolation from the rest, to where it has been cared for according to the Secwepemc principal of k̓wseltktnews (translated as “we are all related”) or the Salish concept of nə́c̓aʔmat ct (“we are one”).
We must heed the answers we’re being given. […]
I had been given a glimpse of these ideals—almost as a stroke of luck—through the rigid lens of western science. I’d been taught in the university to take apart the ecosystem, to reduce it into its parts, to study the trees and plants and soils in isolation, so that I could look at the forest objectively. This dissection, this control and categorization and cauterization, were supposed to bring clarity, credibility, and validation to any findings. When I followed these steps of taking the system apart to look at the pieces, I was able to publish my results, and I soon learned that it was almost impossible for a study of the diversity and connectivity of a whole ecosystem to get into print. There’s no control! the reviewers cried at my early papers. Somehow with my Latin squares and factorial designs, my isotopes and mass spectrometers and scintillation counters, and my training to consider only sharp lines of statistically significant differences, I have come full circle to stumble onto some of the indigenous ideals: Diversity matters. And everything in the universe is connected—between the forests and prairies, the land and the water, the sky and the soil, the spirits and the living, the people and all other creatures.
Scientists, students, and the general public who want to take part in this interdisciplinary research deep in the forest and be part of a citizen-science initiative, a movement to save the forests of the world, can find out more at http://mothertreeproject.org.
i can't tell if my blood is in the trees or if the trees are in my blood.melding science and memoir, suzanne simard's finding the mother tree recounts her remarkable research into mycorrhizal networks, hub trees, and interspecies cooperation and reciprocity. simard, a professor and forest ecologist (and inspiration for the dendrologist character in richard powers' pulitzer prize-winning novel, the overstory), expounds upon the details and discoveries of her decades-long arboreal explorations, chronicling it alongside her own personal story full of challenge and triumph.
if the mycorrhizal network is a facsimile of a neural network, the molecules moving among trees could be as sharp as the electrochemical impulses between neurons, the brain chemistry that allows us to think and communicate. is it possible that the trees are as perceptive of their neighbors as we are of our own thoughts and moods? even more, are the social interactions between trees as influential on their shared reality as that of two people engaged in conversation? can trees discern as quickly as we can? can they continuously gauge, adjust, and regulate based on their signals and interactions, just as we do?
There is no moment too small in the world. Nothing should be lost...