Time Outdoors: Seeing the forests — and the trees
Today, the value we apply to trees and forest ecosystems often seems shallow, trivial, and harshly materialistic.
My 12-year-old wanted to be The Lorax for Halloween. While her friends debated Powerpuff Girls or cheerleaders, she chose the pot-bellied, orange fellow from Dr. Seuss’ imagination who “spoke for the trees.” I wondered about her motivation.
No doubt she’s overheard us lamenting the clear-cutting of forested land on Main Street in West Acton for a new housing development. Or maybe it was because Taylor Swift voiced Audrey in the movie version of “The Lorax”? Regardless, it got me thinking about trees and forests and the need to protect what we have left. Dr. Seuss was on to something.
Trees often symbolize the connection between the earthly and spiritual realms. Words like wisdom and strength apply, and an image of a tree often represents the circle of life. And we can hardly fathom the time frames that trees abide by.
Some of the tallest white pines or ancient oaks in Acton have stood for centuries. Their wood and bark and sap hold memories of ancient times. In Native American culture, trees are viewed as a vital link to the past, present, and future; some tribes consider them sentient beings.
Cheapening nature
Today, in contrast, the value we apply to trees and forest ecosystems often seems shallow, trivial, and harshly materialistic. We often assess the worth of the land they sit on by how it can be divided up and perc-tested and plastic-survey-taped for new houses, white and tall, with landscaped lawns. The trees considered a hindrance, in the way, to be cleared — bulldozed aside.
But what about the intrinsic value of the forest — for just being forest? How can you put a price tag on the sense of calm you get when you sit quietly in the deep woods and notice the abundance of life around you? The simple fact that trees are there and the land they grow from is protected is something of great value — perhaps the greatest value of all.
Their leaves and needles literally make the dirt, and a single acre of undisturbed New England forest can be home to hundreds of species — thousands, if you count microorganisms. The canopy above, the understory, the forest floor, all teem with interconnected biodiversity: oaks, maples, pines, elms, beeches, hemlocks, sassafras, cherry, cedars, ash, dogwoods, redbuds, and sumac, each species individual and unique, each playing its part. In town, they provide shade and cool the town, and they literally make the oxygen we breathe.
Massachusetts loses about 5,000 acres of forest a year, mostly to housing developments, and we can see this playing out in Acton. The math of supply and demand requires more than pleas or emotional appeals to offset its weight. It requires organization, money, time, and a passion for saving land so the generations after us can feel the same feeling we feel when we are in it.
Trail stewardship
The Acton Land Conservation Trust has been protecting land since 1959, and this local non-profit has successfully saved over 900 Acton acres. With names like Wright Woods, October Farmland, and Newbury Field, these CLCT properties are open to the public, with signage and well-maintained paths.
I recently joined and was trained as a trail steward, ensuring fallen limbs are cleared and litter is picked up. I have learned that, when opportunities arise, the group moves fast to try to meet the seller’s terms. Right now, such a moment is upon them — and upon us all — as the owners of 30 acres along Spencer Brook (off Lowell Road) have reached out. The campaign’s fundraising goal is $2.8 million and has to be completed by mid-January. I hope it can get there.
The maples and oaks and pines within these lines on a map know nothing of this, of course. Nor do the otters and wood ducks and other animals who call Spencer Brook home. The forest within this 30-acre plot is just there, sequestering carbon and being wild, perhaps silently wishing it won’t be bulldozed? We can’t know this, of course.
What we can know is that we have a chance to act. To preserve. To save. To honor the call to action that Dr. Seuss conveyed as he penned the Lorax’s famous line, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better — it’s not.”
Maybe this is what my daughter was motivated by in her costume choice from a story where nature is gone, destroyed for profit. I hope we all heed this warning and help preserve land that is valuable beyond measure for just being there and, once saved, will be an enduring monument to those who acted when the chance arose to do so.
Until next month, please do all you can to help preserve the undeveloped land we have left so our children and theirs will be able to spend Time Outdoors exploring it after we are gone. They (and the Lorax) will thank you.
P.S.: Put any leftover Halloween pumpkins out in the woods. The deer and squirrels and other critters love them.
Wilson Kerr lives in Acton and is an avid outdoorsman and amateur naturalist. This monthly column is written to help grow awareness of the wonders of nature. In this increasingly fast-paced and technology-packed world, it is important to stop and take in the beauty of our area and the animals that inhabit it. The author hopes this column will be read by families and used as a teaching tool and that you will spend more … Time Outdoors.
