I used to live next to a little patch of woodland. Recently, the land was sold and the underbrush and old trees were cleared. Here on Chincoteague Island, most undeveloped lots are getting cleared these days, even the lots that flood during heavy rains and king tides, demand for holiday and retirement homes is so high. Which has gotten me thinking a lot about trees recently.
There remains at my property line a row of loblolly pines, sweetgums and myrtle bushes where I watch yellow-throated warblers in early spring hop along the branches, blue jays bustling around with a bossy “Quark, quark” and occasionally, yellow-headed sapsuckers tapping tree trunks for bugs. There used to a be a great-horned owl that sat in the evenings on a branch overhanging my driveway, its big round eyes in its bowl-shaped face looking mournfully at me as if to warn, “Don’t you dare kill those field mice and snakes under your deck: I need them to feed my babies.” The owl nested in the hollow of a dead tree before the land was cleared. Nowadays when I sit on my porch, I hear fewer birds; there are fewer berries, seeds and bugs around here now the woodland has been cleared.
So I called up the man who bought the land next door and asked if he would mind at least saving the trees and bushes that remain on our joint property line. “It would be nice for privacy for both of us, you know.” I didn’t mention the wildlife. He made no promises, and the signs were not encouraging.
“Those loblollies, I hate them. All that mess. I’ve lived on the island all my life, and cleaning up that pine shat ……”
I won’t repeat the rest of what he said, nor did I tell him he could use the shat for mulch. Neighborly relations might not do so well if he tagged me too early as a tree-hugging, eco-warrior environmentalist, even if I do deserve the name. But the conversation did start thinking about how I can explain to others why I love trees, and why I want to keep them, and that it’s not just for the shelter and privacy they provide — to me and the birds.
Trees have a majesty to them. Do you remember as a child lying on your back in the grass staring up into their canopies? It was as if you disappeared into a magical world. Anchored deeply into the earth, their roots are like long tentacles burrowing down through darkness, soaking up water and nutrients to strengthen the soaring heights to which they grow, their branches outstretched toward the sky, up there where the hawks and the eagles fly.
It turns out trees do exist in their own magical world. Research over the past two decades has discovered that underground they develop intricate communication networks to pass messages among themselves. Trees use mycorrhizal fungi – those tiny little white threads you find under piles of old leaves or in newly turned earth – to connect one root system to another. Using these networks, a sick tree can receive nutrients from a neighbor, a mother tree transmit food to its offspring, a tree under attack can warn its neighbors, which in turn emit poisons to ward off disease and prevent predators from eating their leaves. Trees have their very own internet system at work: It is as if they talk to each other.
There are lots of other things they do – cool an area by about 5 degrees, filter dust and pollutants, raise real estate values by 5-7 percent, and create fresh air by taking in carbon dioxide and converting it into oxygen. They are carbon sinks, which we badly need with a warming planet. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, “One acre of forest absorbs six tons of carbon dioxide and puts out four tons of oxygen. This is enough to meet the annual needs of 18 people.” They help us breathe.
Here on the low-lying Eastern Shore, trees play another very important role – they soak up huge amounts of water. The U.S. Forest Service says one tree reduces stormwater runoff by 4,000 gallons per year, evergreen trees by even more. Given heavier rainfall and rising sea levels, we need every tree we can get to help us dry out our land. I have a huge old river birch in one corner of my front yard. It thrives on damp soil, and when my neighbors’ yards are flooded, mine often is dry. Spacious, treeless front yards might be easier to mow, but the price can be wet land.
So please think twice before you chop down a tree. They give us so many gifts, not least ineffable moments of beauty.
Learn More
In fact, let’s face it, trees are “Tree-mendous!” This is the theme the Virginia Master Naturalists have chosen to celebrate its 20th anniversary this year. Chapters around the state are hosting tree-related events to help raise awareness of their importance to the ecosystem, our health and wellbeing. One way you can learn more about trees is by joining an April 8 workshop offered by the Eastern Shore Soil and Water Conservation District. Project Learning Tree is an award-winning program, where you explore not only trees and forests, but wildlife, water, air, energy, waste, climate change, invasive species, community planning, giving you modules to use at any educational event.
Trees last for a lifetime. When I was a child, my father wanted to chop down a cherry tree in our front yard that he said threw too much shade over his rose garden. I protested. I loved its flouncing profusion of pink blossoms in springtime. It made me very happy. The cherry tree still stands today, over sixty years later.