To the Giving Trees: “Thank-you.”

This blog post is my entry for the “Nature’s Forest Services” blog competition being hosted by UNEP and TreeHugger in honour of World Environment Day on June 5th. The post goes along with Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3, that provide some extra background material for those interested in learning more about forest ecosystem services.  

Cariboo Lake, British Columbia

“We are living on an incredibly beautiful little planet, but our human existence is threatened. If we are to survive we have to learn to think differently. The thinking for the future has to be loyal to nature. It must encompass all humans and all living creatures, because everything alive, in itself, has a value.”

Arne Naess

A Peculiar Dichotomy

What can I say? I’m a sucker for trees. You don’t have to convince me of forest services. I’m already there.

How did this happen? I don’t look like a forest nut. Many of my schoolmates grew up to love money and fancy cars more than trees. My parents were the opposite of hippies.  I can be as much of a workaholic, gadget loving, inside person as the next typical city dweller.

So what’s my story? Why did I choose to study environmental science in university? Why have I devoted my career to ecosystem services? Why am I the kind of zealot who would voluntarily write a lengthy three part backgrounder to preface this simple blog contest entry?

The answer lies in the fundamental power of forest ecosystem services to transform a person. I should know. They transformed me.

My Forest Story

“And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.”

– Dylan Thomas, Fernhill


Grizzly
When I was nine, my parents up and moved to the wilds of British Columbia on the shores of Cariboo Lake. Did I want to go? Nuh un! I wanted to stay in Vancouver with my friends. I didn’t want to go live in the middle of nowhere. What would I do all day? No TV, phone, power. No neighbours. But there were grizzlies. It sounded scary!

But like most things we fear, it wasn’t so bad when we arrived, but yes, boring. I first read all the decent books in the house, then did the puzzles. I dressed my cat in doll clothes until he lost patience and started scratching me. Finally, I got up the nerve to face my grizzly fears, and started hanging around outside.

I spent my time between the daisies in our yard to the trees around it.  I would lie for hours on the soft mossy rocks by the stream behind our house, our source of water. There I learned the music of wind through the trees, punctuated by the melody of birds. So many birds.

Eventually, I had encounters with the other forest inhabitants. Porcupines, moose, black bears, deer. Once, I found a baby bat with a broken wing and nursed it back to health. Another time I was chased by a wounded moose. I used to pretend my dog, Duke, was a wolf who would keep away the grizzlies. And maybe he was–I never encountered one.

After a while, in this way, I forgot about notions of boredom. I never felt alone. I learned a kind of contentment that I had not known before. As this happened, the woods became a part of me, like dear, old friends. Time stretched out, and the ancient forest claimed me as one of its own.

Then it happened. Barely a year in and my parents said we had to move back to Vancouver. I was devastated. In a hollow, wordless way. Leaving the Cariboo left a gap in my heart, that is only filled when I feel I am doing some justice to what I learned in those woods.

And so I can vouch for the profound value of forest cultural ecosystem services, for I’ve felt their direct benefit, and also their loss. Hence, I am who I am, do the work that I do, and finally, write this blog. It’s my small way to say, “Thank-you,” to the giving trees.



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