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The Down Side of Remote Pacific Islands – The Disappearing Species of New Zealand.

Hawai’i is the third largest island in the Pacific after the North and South Islands of New Zealand. Each has a reputation for beautiful landscapes but all have experienced extraordinary losses of their unique flora and fauna.

When man arrived on Pacific Islands, most low altitude habitats were rapidly degraded and indigenous species either lost or pushed into rapid decline; but sadly many people fail to recognise the problem.

On islands where there are higher altitudes many indigenous species cling on, but invariably they are compromised in some way, in particular by introduced pests. 

Green Turtle and YellowTangs close by Pu`uhonua O Hōnaunau National Park. Hawai’i. Most species found in seas around Pacific islands usually belong there, with the chances of seeing a varied bio-diversity improving considerably in protected areas, but once out of the water and up the beach, the situation rapidly changes.

To the casual observer Pacific Islands appear idyllic and it might seem peevish to dwell upon their environmental problems, but the losses are impossible to ignore. The Hawaiian Islands exhibit one of the highest species extinction rates of recent time, with New Zealand running a close second.

We can easily utilse the area above a beach, but the tidal zone is more difficult to control, consequently much of it remains natural.
Tidal zones are difficult for us to control and the reason so many remain natural, but once inland it is often easy to repurpose wild areas to our own ends.

A NEW ZEALAND STORY: When I first visited the Coromandel Peninsula – not far from where my family and I once lived on New Zealand’s North Island, the experience turned out to be very much different from expected. It was perhaps too hopeful to see expansive forests of native trees – there is a forest park here, but the ancient native forests have mostly been replaced by serried ranks of introduced commercial radiata pine along with open pasture, and this was a double disappointment.

The degradation of the landscape becomes very apparent when commercial trees are harvested. Many people are fooled into thinking non-native trees growing on hillsides are natural, but nothing in this landscape really ‘belongs’,  apart from the tree ferns growing just below the centre line, and this is rather depressing.

Ironically, Pinus radiata does not grow well in its native habitat around Monterey in California, and do much better as plantation trees in a goldilocks zone that runs in a band around the Southern Hemisphere. Growing quickly in their ‘new environment’ they may be cropped in a little over 30 years. Such rapid development makes the wood almost useless unless pumped with unpleasant chemicals to preserve the timber from the elements. There is no shortage of Pinus radiata growing on the Coromandel, but at least the Peninsula’s agreeable coastline of beaches and cliffs is cloaked in native pohutukawa trees. Sadly, some trees are prone to suddenly die: this correlates directly with a tree’s growth spoiling somebodies cherished view.

Flowering rata and Pohutukawa Metrosideros excelsa turn some regions into a sea of colour with Pohuts a spectacular feature of the Coromandel. This picture however, with very young trees, was taken above a beach on the South Island in the Abel Tasman region.

The beauty of the Coromandel relies heavily on narrow bands of coastal pohutukawas. They are visually impressive trees, especially when viewed from the sea, hanging on cliff faces. Known as the New Zealand Christmas tree, they flower spectacularly from December into the New Year. 

However, once up the beach and through the trees, we discovered the landscape changed rapidly to farmland not dissimilar to the countryside we had so recently left behind in Southern England.

Intensely red pohutukawa flowers set against an electric blue sky – once seen never forgotten.

Inland natural habitats quickly begin to deteriorate and when you’ve moved to the opposite side of the world with the expectation of great natural beauty, it is disappointing to find environments trashed and the native flora and fauna seriously depleted.

Where did all the trees go?

When Captain Cook first sailed along the Huaraki Gulf off the Coromandel  Peninsula he wasn’t just mapping the coastline, there was also an expectation that his expedition might find trees suitable for providing masts and spars to the British navy. The 20th and 21st day of November 1769 were days of discovery as Cook’s party took two longboats on an historic journey up the Waihou River.  Cook mentions massive trees on the river banks in his journal, these later identified as kahikatea or ‘white pine’,  Dacrycarpus dacrydioides. The party rowed ashore and measured a large specimen that ran to 89 feet (about 27 metres) to its first branch and at six feet from the ground, the trees girth was 19 feet 8 inches (almost 6 metres).

Later, the publication of Cook’s journal would bring major changes to the Hauraki area; within 25 years the region would be rapidly colonised by Europeans; the trees that Cook had written about felled, the surrounding lands drained and most of the natural forests replaced by farmland.

My family on our first outing to the Coromandel, above Pauanui in 2002. The view is very different from how it would have been when Cook sailed by in Mid-November of 1779. We had to get up high to find anything native (there were only the pohutukawas at sea level). Manuka – Leptospermum scoparium is in flower on the lower left hand side of the picture – a beautiful native that should be everywhere, but it isn’t. The discovery that money can be made from manuka honey, and the claim that it has ‘medicinal properties’ has increased its popularity, although, several years before we arrived a virus had eliminated it from our area, and I reintroduced it. It is rather sad that in New Zealand there needs to be very good reasons for allowing native plants to grow unhindered – the general feeling on the Waikato is that they are a bit of a nuisance. 
Manuka Flowers in our garden. Otherwise known as the tea tree, the manuka plant can be brittle and survives best when there are other plants growing around it to give shelter.

Few kahikateas trees survive today as large as the one that Cook described, and on first reading his account I wondered if the tree that had been measured was in fact a kauri. Kauris grow to become magnificent trees, and at that time there would  have been no shortage of them. Left to themselves they might stand for thousands of years and reach a spectacular girth; younger trees were so clean and straight they quickly became a favoured choice as ship’s masts, although at the time Cook had not yet come across one. The diameter of the tree he described in his journal would have been around 190 centimetres and as there is a kahikatea still standing in Pirongia Forest (close to where we were living) measuring around 220 centimetres in diameter, the comparative figures make sense – the confusion existing in my mind because it is almost impossible to find kahikateas of this size and age still standing for comparison.

This great kahikatea in Pirongia Forest was once thought to be the tallest tree in N.Z. but that honour is now claimed by a kahikatea that when last measured in 2009 had reached around 55.50 metres in height (depending on whose figures you believe). It is sited much further south near to the Matirangi Forest in Taranaki.

I planted quite a few locally grown seedling kahikateas at our place in what I considered appropriate places, but it will be the offspring of these trees that will decide where they really should be growing and the roll they will play in the future of the forest.

When we lived on the slopes of Pirongia Mountain, visiting friends would plant native trees on our land, amongst them kahikateas – which rewarded us by looking completely dead for several years – it’s just the way they are. This species was largely cleared from the once boggy surrounding lowlands of the Waikato as the wetland forest were  converted almost exclusively to pasture.

In some places, the occasional kahikata had been left standing on pasture to provide shade for livestock, but a few years ago it was suggested that cattle gathering in this manner might spread facial eczema, and for that reason many of the remaining trees were felled. On the school run I’d mourn their smoking carcasses piled and burning for days. Removing them I think was a mistake – shade for livestock is essential during the hot summer months, but as any farmer might be inclined to ask – what do I know?

Bush developing behind our house, the edges sealed in just a few years by native planting to prevent wind  damage to exposed trees.

Certainly I was keen to see the trees back, as 98% of kahikatea forests are now lost, and without a reversal of policy in both drainage and land use the situation is unlikely to change. Some consider it immoral to return pasture back to natural habitat – a mind set that unfairly labels many New Zealanders as incapable of making a living from anything unless it can be shorn, milked or eaten.

By the year 2,000 these Islands had experienced twenty to thirty generations of human presence – if we accept that Maori started settlement around 650 to 750 years prior to that date; during that period native forest has been reduced from around 85% to about 23% of the total land area.

When we arrived in 2002 there was no national Forest programme in place. Decisions were made regionally and grand old native trees were still being cut, even though outside of conservation areas there were very few mature native forests left. A Maori visitor told me that an old relative of his was busy felling an extensive area of native trees – he said, ‘There’s no point in arguing with the old B… He wants them gone. What can you do eh?’ A neighbour who had recently bought a large area of farmland close by told me that he had the right to cut a percentage of his remaining native trees, even though the previous owner had pretty much taken out most of what had been left standing. Essentially, the land had been asset stripped, and indiscriminately sprayed with herbicide, killing areas of natural bush, and generally poorly maintained. It was then sold on as real estate values rose. A win, win situation as land prices rarely go down.

Recent information from ‘Forestry New Zealand’ points out that N.Z. has one of the lowest levels of corruption and that both timber and timber products are produced legally through a strong regulatory environment. Well, that sounds great but when you live in the middle of nowhere ‘stuff happens!’

Looking across the Waikato Plain to Pirongia Mountain where we once lived, it is clear that all of the native forest has been replaced by pasture – little that is natural remains at lower altitudes. Whenever we came down from the mountain reserve, it was possible to see – where the pature began, as the streams and rivers changed from pristine clarity to cattle poo brown.

On arriving in New Zealand I thought it odd that there was a general acceptance native flora and fauna could only be preserved by fencing it off… shouldn’t the natural world be on the outside of the fence? The alternative was to place New Zealand’s unique natural wonders on small offshore islands after all of the troublesome mammalian introductions, such as stoats and rats, had been exterminated by mass poisoning. In fairness this has proven to be an essential short term measure, so inundated has the country become with introduced pests. Certainly, New Zealanders can’t be faulted over their good intentions when it comes to pest control, but there is no excuse for the continued decimation of native habitats as agriculture continues to expand into areas that are borderline as regards economic return.

Yarnley’s Bush: A woodland area of mainly kahikatea and pukatea trees that still exists in a lowland area close to where we lived – its survival little more than a fortunate accident. This natural habitat is small but nevertheless precious. Buttress root are an adaptation that allows certain species to stand in boggy wetland areas; the trees here are impressive but have a long way to go before they are fully grown.
Pukatea Laurelia novae-zelandiae commonly grows with kahikatea on wetland areas of the open plain which has long since been drained, but they will also grow on the lower slopes of the mountain. 

All of the seedlings that I planted were sourced locally – it took a couple of years to discover the particular preferences of pukatea – surprisingly they did not do well in the wettest areas close to the stream, perhaps because  light was a limiting factor, but they did grow effectively at the top of the gully on retired pasture.

There was once a woodmill close to our bush, and by the time of our tenure most of the important old trees had been logged out.

The steep gully slope, close to where our house was sited, was supported by fairly mature kamahai and towhai trees which had only remained standing because their wood was quite useless – I was told by a local that had the trees been good firewood, they would have been felled long ago.  In other places where there were no larger trees growing, the gully would occasionally slip away in wet weather. It really doesn’t make sense to cut mature trees on steep slopes and yet this is an activity that continues around the world, with often shocking consequences.

Towhai and Kamahai trees were important features on the steep gully slopes, because their roots stopped the hill from sliding away. The trees flowered annually, and once every three or four years they  would put on an exceptional display.

The presence of the trees also provided a roost for a couple of pairs of native pigeon, big birds and the only species surviving in New Zealand with a crop big enough to swallow seeds from the larger tree species that had mostly been lost from our tract of bush.

Stock animals would wander down to the stream and surrounding bush, but we put a stop to that. After a couple of years without grazing, large numbers of seedlings began to grow in the understory, carried in as seeds and excreted onto the forest floor by our welcome avian visitors.

Rewarewa Knightia excelsia is establishing with thousands of other seedlings in the bush, they require a layer of cover and cannot survive winter frosts a few feet out on open pasture.

The dense mass of seedlings growing in open spaces in the understory will eventually sort themselves out by competing with one another, but it could be a hundred years before the winners crowd the losers out. As new generations of people come to live in the house they will experience different stages of the forest as time passes, and in two or three hundred years the habitat will begin to get really interesting – but only if we humans stops messing things up as effectively as we presently are. 

Hopefully, little pockets of forest like this will survive undisturbed elsewhere, until eventually much larger forests develop to full maturity. Native forests perform various important functions – in particular they provide habitats for other native species; and will also lock up carbon and slow the present increase in land temperatures. All we really need to do is allow them to exist without interference by keeping stock animals out and avoid the temptation to rush in and chop mature trees selectively. This requires a very different mindset from the short sighted approach we presently exhibit…. who knows, it could happen, but I’m not holding my breath.

When researching native trees I was concerned to discover that almost none of the original buildings in our local town had been preserved… Obviously a case of local indifference… but sometimes a little knowledge is a dangerous thing – it soon became apparent that there was a good reason for the lack of historically significant structures  – most of the buildings had been made from kahikatea timber – a wood that rots out very quickly. Local Maori would have known this, but probably nobody thought to ask them as they were often in conflict with the first European settlers, and might have been disinclined to offer useful information. The wood did however have one thing going for it – no discernible scent, and this proved ideal for the making of boxes for the transportation of butter.

Down in our gully, growth was dense in places, but the soil is susceptible to being washed away, and it will take time for things to mature.
An establishing young Kauri in our gully. This species once grew close to the property, but maybe not on it.

On the Coromandel the large scale plunder of kauri forests started in earnest back in the 1830s. It was commonly referred to as an ‘industry’, although the almost complete destruction of a unique ecosystem might more correctly be described as a tragedy, but it was correct in one sense in that the destruction was on an industrial scale. By the end of the 19th Century 75% of the forests had been felled, yet the rate of cutting would increase for a while. In the end it would take little more than a hundred years to destroy forests that had been in existence for perhaps 20 million years.

Many tree species had been logged out in our bush, and I re-established them over an eight year period between 2002 and 2010, including  several kauris planted on forest margins, previously sheep pasture. Kauri have recently suffered from a disease known as dieback for which there is presently no cure, and there can be no harm in having small stands of these trees in out of the way places as an insurance for the future.

Kauris can live for more than 4,000 years, their upper canopies growing so expansively they may be considered complete ecosystems in themselves.

There are few big old trees standing now that haven’t been given names and that’s a bad sign. When people can remember the names of every big tree in a forest there’s probably an environmental crisis. Big trees on a grand scale can now only be found in conservation areas much reduced in area from their original forest size. 

I was working hard here framing native plants rather than pasture to make Cathedral Cove look as if it belongs in N.Z. and is not as it appears, an overgrazed stretch of Dorset coastline.

The double whammy for kauri on the Coromandel was the discovery of gold in the mid-1900s. Just when kauri seedlings were beginning to start another forest their top soil was blasted away in search of a metal considered far more precious than natural bio-diversity. 

Extracting gold has in the past been a dirty process and has involved considerable changes to the landscape, with the use of a great deal of water and rather alarmingly, liquid mercury – the worst news imaginable not only for people but also the environment. Then in 1898 the cyanide process was trialed for the first time at Karangahake on the Peninsula. This involved using dilute sodium cyanide to dissolve and separate gold from its ore and is still in use today. Commonly, tailings ponds are utilised to allow for settling with the water then available for re-use, but now and again there have been breaches that can cause environmental problems, and the ponds themselves are not ideal places for sustaining wildlife. Mining companies however manage to put a positive spin on the use of cyanide, because cyanides do not cause cancer or build up in the food chain, neither do they persist in the environment as some pesticides do; eventually breaking down in sunlight.  

However, when things go wrong, there is an obvious cause for concern, either from airborne hydrogen cyanide or the contamination of water supplies. That’s not to say that all goldmines are potential environmental disasters, but I wouldn’t want to live next to one.  Gold, of course, has easily definable important industrial uses, but if we are going to keep most of it in vaults or under our beds, we might just as well leave it in the ground… What a ridiculously common sense idea.

A gold mine can be a shocking thing, especially when you haven’t seen one before. This hole in the ground is literally part of the township of Waihi south of the Coromandel Peninsula.

Just a few hundred years ago the Coromandel was a great natural wonder. Maori certainly made their mark, but after the arrival of Europeans, things got worse. Logging, and later, the extraction of gold by blasting the land surface with water, was followed by chemical extractions that could seriously damage biological systems, and finally large areas of the peninsula have been converted to pasture. All of this has resulted in a wide scale environmental disaster that many chose to ignore, or at least fail to notice.

Now that things have settled down and the region expansively clothed in either pasture or monocultures of pine, so much of it looks just like a long distance relative of Britain, but in the past it has been so much more. Many people still love it, but historically little respect was given to its once unique and pristine environments. The Coromandel clearly missed out on the care that it more properly deserved and I don’t understand why people aren’t angry about it. The destruction happened recently and over a comparatively short time, nevertheless, many New Zealanders have no understanding of how their country once looked. And, if you point this out…”Well, what can you do? It’s the same everywhere isn’t it?” is a common response.

It is anathema now to suggest that we should be responsible for what happens around us; an attitude that makes almost anything more or less O.K.. But if natural environments are to survive in the years to come, ignoring all the stuff that we’d rather not think about isn’t the answer.

Kaka parrots will eventually return to the bush close by where we once lived, but it will take time for the environment to become exactly right. These are hungry destructive birds and there are very few places in New Zealand where, if this parrot occurs in numbers, they are not artificially fed, as too few places now exist with enough mature trees to support the fruits and seeds they require.

Clearing out the pests is just the start, the next stage will be to reinstate New Zealand’s forests. Maybe people refer to any natural area as ‘bush’ simply because there are so few mature trees left and so it is difficult to realistically call them ‘forests’. At least some recognition of this will be necessary before there will be any significant change.

If cameras had been around when Cook was exploring remote places unknown to Europeans, would pictures of magnificent forests have changed attitudes towards chopping them down… Probably not, because we have great pictures of Indonesian rain forest now and the wonderful plants and animals that live within them, but nothing much changes – presently, palm oil plantations take precedence over natural bio-diversity… It doesn’t make sense, but if there are still great forests with grand old trees standing within them, then it’s worth taking a picture, because one day there will be deniers who will try and tell us that they were never really there.

To follow: PART 2. The Downside of Pacific Islands – The Disappearing Species of Hawai’i.

 

 

 

 

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The Not So Strange Case of the Disappearing Trees.

Many successful conservation efforts are best dealt with locally – it’s easier when things happen closer to home. Commendable though it is to try and save rhinos on the other side of the planet, practical conservation works best when it’s just around the corner.

A stream running through Fleetwood natural woodland. It is Just beautiful.
A stream runs through Fleetwood Park’s woodland, which is conveniently close to where I live.

I have concerns over a woodland habitat that forms a major part of Fleetwood Park, in Surrey B.C. , an exceptional wildlife environment, and like many others in urban areas, really needs locals to remain vigilant.

The stream in spring.
The stream in spring.

I recently wrote about tree felling in the park, because it was impossible to miss the large number of trees that had been cut along a path running through the woods. Prior to the felling, a local said that she’d stopped counting the red markers on standing trunks at 65 trees, but she’d seen plenty more, and was concerned. And for most of us, that’s about as far as it gets.

I guessed the trees were for the chop because they were considered potentially dangerous, but it was clear that more than half of those that eventually came down posed no immediate threat – they were just trees along a pleasant walk with a bit of rot that attracted feeding woodpeckers, and had been useful to a great many plants and animals.

The stream in Autumn.
The stream in Autumn.

I e-mailed the local Parks division to outline my concerns over the felling in the hope that it might be moderated, and to their credit, I received a prompt response. 105 trees had been designated for removal and nothing was going to change that. Reluctantly I have accepted, that in a litigious world, local authorities have to protect themselves, even if sometimes they are overzealous. I also learned that around 250 young trees would be planted – more than double the replacement number, but I’ll return to that later.

There were other details concerning policy  – most of which sounded good on paper: – a ‘Sustainability Charter’, a ‘Biodiversity Conservation Strategy’, a ‘Preservation Policy’, a ‘Dedicated Urban Forest Parks Policy’ and a ‘Natural Area Management Plan’ and finally a ‘Common Sense Just Leave Things Alone Working Group.’ Sorry… I just made that last one up.

All in all, there was a lot to take in, but in the end there is no denying that essential corridors between the few remaining natural habitats in the area are rapidly disappearing, and trees continue to be felled across the region for land development. You can’t help but think that despite all the words, policies are mostly concerned with appearance, and very little to do with practical conservation.

I take pictures in the wood almost every day and it makes me wonder - how could you possibly improve on this?
I take pictures in the wood almost every day and it makes me wonder – how could you possibly improve on this?

My response was to suggest that what the woodland really needed wasn’t so much tree felling and re-planting, but a couple of other less intrusive smaller scale activities.

I asked for the summer mow along the paths to be staggered – and we aren’t talking a grass mow here. Plants that grow several feet high suddenly disappear: one day there are butterflies feeding on flowers, perhaps a Pacific tree frog sitting on a leaf, shrews scurrying below in the ground cover, and a whole lot of other activities in full swing – then quite suddenly everything is levelled.

The cutting is necessary, but staggering it would reduce the impact on wildlife – taking out one half of the plant growth and then coming back in a few weeks’ time to take out the rest would help to prevent the whole habitat from vanishing in one fell swoop. Presently, a single cut leaves many small animal corpses along pathways and nowhere for insects to feed. There is unfortunately no budget available to make a change, but I wonder if ‘keep it nice and tidy’  might also be on the agenda.

It is always a thrill to see a Pacific tree frog on a leaf by the path, but the summer verge cut poses a survival problem for them, as it does for many other creatures.
It is always a thrill to see a Pacific tree frog on a leaf by the path, but the summer verge cut poses a survival problem for them, as it does for many other creatures.

This is a great place for amphibians – the woodland remains fairly wet on all but the hottest days of summer and it is a credit to park authorities that they leave fallen trees to rot on the ground – a major contribution to conservation that doesn’t happen everywhere, as many will tidy up even through natural woodlands.

What amphibians need most in this otherwise perfect habitat is a few scrapes in the ground close by streams to provide still water for egg laying. This water must last long enough to allow larvae to develop, but not so long as to allow colonisation by predators such as beetles and dragonfly larvae.  A good sized tyre rut is ideal, but with the increase in hot, dry summers, these temporary pools need a little maintenance during winter to keep them open and viable so that they last long enough for young amphibians to emerge during summer.

Such pools would be helpful to several amphibian species including the long-toed salamander, which might also lay eggs in slow running streams, but here there is a chance that larvae will be washed down stream and the young salamanders emerge outside of the conservation area. Unfortunately no larvae can wash into the park because stream water arrives via underground springs that are now covered by amphibian unfriendly urban developments.

As expected, there is no budget available for the maintenance of pools either, but I’m hopeful that in future something voluntary might be organised if the park authorities agree to it.

Long-toed salamanders tend to emerge at night and are seldom seen during the day. I know... What's the point if you never see them... Well, it's all about diversity which is a sure sign of a healthy environment.
Long-toed salamanders tend to emerge at night and are seldom seen during the day. I know… What’s the point if you never see them… Well, it’s all about diversity which is a sure sign of a healthy environment.

One of the main concerns for animals that can’t fly, is isolation on natural islands that are rapidly becoming surrounded by seas of development – this is a particular problem for amphibians and reptiles.

It makes sense in this woodland to undertake small projects rather take on expensive planting schemes. The environment is healthy – there is good species diversity, along with plant regeneration and the habitat functions well without too much interference.

 Most urban forests are secondary replacements for primary forests that were felled in the not too distant past; once clear of trees the land was initially utilised for agriculture, but much has now been replaced by development. The secondary forests that remain are still quite young, shaped by human influence, opinions vary as to how best to maintain them.

One option is to plant new woodlands in places where they have disappeared altogether. And established woodlands that are developing naturally, might benefit from the re-introduction of lost species, but otherwise might best be left alone.

A dynamic woodland progresses at it’s own pace, increasing in complexity over time. Parks departments understandably want to replace trees that they have felled, and may also wish to speed up forest development, even in woodlands that are progressing naturally – we have become so used to planting trees commercially it is difficult to escape the notion that it is quite necessary to interfere.

The borders of the woodland path three years ago during late spring - a perfect wildlife habitat and very beautiful.
The borders of the woodland path three years ago during late spring – a perfect wildlife habitat and very beautiful.

The decision to plant 250 potentially very big trees here – mostly conifers with many close to the path, might be consider a disproportionate activity in relation to the rest of the woodland.

The authorities might also be considering slow growing conifers, such as cedars, as requiring less maintenance in years to come, but it is worth remembering that seeds will still be arriving on the wind, others will be carried in by woodland birds and mammals; and many of the trees that will form the next stage of woodland development are already present and will grow and multiply in due course – a process that  may take tens, even hundreds of years, but in the end might achieve a healthier forest.

Three years ago and early in the spring: the two trunks leaning away were beginning to rot, these would eventually have fallen away from the path at some stage - they formed part of a habitat that acted as a food source for a great many forest dwellers. Wood peckers worked for grubs right next to the path (see their beak hammer holes in the trunk - top right).
Three years ago and early in the spring: the two trunks leaning away were beginning to rot, these would eventually have fallen away from the path at some stage – they formed part of a habitat that acted as a food source for a great many forest dwellers. Woodpeckers worked for grubs right next to the path (see their beak hammer holes in the trunk – top right).

My response to the park authority was that very little could be done until their conservation policy entered the 21st Century, which retrospectively seems a little unfair – they just want something other than a natural progression –  but I’m not quite sure what; and I don’t think there is any fear that they are overthinking the situation. At such times I sometimes lose patience… say something unfortunate… somebody gets upset, and then nothing changes. And that’s always going to be a problem when you tell it the way you see it.

I know… if it doesn’t work, then why do it!!!?  and I was thinking exactly that when there was an unexpected response from the parks manager – he was very reasonable and happy to meet me on site; I should have expected this, because Canadians are endlessly tolerant and polite, but that doesn’t mean their views will be any less entrenched than anywhere else that you might question authority.

Our meeting duly happened and I was given a couple of generous hours to make several points and then listen to why park policies were in general disagreement with my views. I wasn’t getting anywhere… but I kind of expected that, even before I started.

A hairy woodpecker feeding last year on one of the trees that have recently been felled along the pathway.
A hairy woodpecker feeding last year on one of the trees that have recently been felled along the pathway.

Between my last contact with park authorities and the meeting, all the young trees had been planted. Rather too many along the woodland path in my opinion – almost all of them evergreens that will in places (during somebody else’s lifetime), create screens that for many years will blank out agreeable views until the trees have grown; whereas presently there are many wonderful sight lines through moss covered branches. Conifers provide cover for birds and are all part of the natural progression, but I wonder if it was appropriate to plant quite so many here?

Conifers might eventually establish everywhere on this site and return the forest to the way it was before man interfered, but it is also possible that in future, woodlands such as this will be managed to provide different stages of the ecosystem to maintain a greater diversity of wildlife. This habitat is already interesting but it has the potential to become a rare treasure as urban development continues to swamp the landscape.

Potentially mighty trees planted just three feet apart seems odd to me.
Potentially mighty trees planted just three feet apart seems odd to me.

My recent disappointment at seeing so many trees felled was now overtaken by puzzlement over the planting regime. Why were groups of half a dozen potentially big trees sited almost on top of one another?

‘They will form a grove’ said the manager’.

‘I don’t think so, not when they are planted so close together’. I replied.

‘Only about 40% will survive’ – was the manager’s response.

But I didn’t think that was likely either, and said so. The trees’ survival rate would be higher because the wood isn’t prone to heavy grazing by deer,  and as urban development continues deer will become even less frequent visitors.

When tree seedlings grow in an open space they may grow in their thousands, with the result that tightly packed spindly trees will establish for a hundred years or more before a few finally out compete their neighbours, but the trees in this wood are not growing like that, they are well spaced and visually pleasing – there is no precedent here to encourage the planting of five or six saplings close together, but even if this were natural, wouldn’t it make sense to plant them farther apart if you had the option?

These three conifers are planted within a few feet of one another - should they survive, at some stage their trunks must fuse. But if a grove is intended, they need to be planted a few paces rather than a few feet apart. Just over the felled trunk are the two potentially mighty trees shown in the previous picture - the planting here is very tight.
These three conifers are planted within a few feet of one another – should they survive, at some stage their trunks must fuse. But if a grove is intended, they need to be planted a few paces rather than a few feet apart. Just over the felled trunk are the two potentially mighty trees shown in the previous picture – the planting here is very tight.

Trees planted so close, ultimately compete for resources; many of the conifers in question are slow growers anyway and they will inevitably take even longer to mature when planted in close proximity; and there is always the possibility that in a tight group of five or six, the trees closest to the path may head towards the light and grow out over the walkway, creating a potential hazard that I had assumed park policy would be keen to avoid… but I was wrong.

‘And they won’t be cut’, said the manager, ‘unless they show signs of rot. We accept that healthy trees will sometimes drop branches’.

Douglas fir he told me, do this without any sign of rot. I had seen an example of this only the day before on the main bridge over the gully stream and this demonstrates that a fir branch dropping from above poses a far greater threat to people than a trunk toppling across a path, which is more likely to be observed and avoided.

A healthy Douglas fir bough that has splintered and fallen onto a frequently used gully bridge. Had anybody been walking across they might easily have been hit.
A healthy Douglas fir bough that has splintered and fallen onto a frequently used gully bridge. Had anybody been walking across they might easily have been hit.

In addition there was the tree that blew over and fell across the path a few weeks ago…  a few days after the tree felling had been completed! The contradictory behaviour of trees in relation to park policy and the potential for litigation was beginning to defeat me.

The woodland two years ago during spring... just so delightfully subtle!
The woodland two years ago during spring… just so delightfully subtle!

The truth regarding the new trees was that they were probably planted in haste, which isn’t the best way to plan a forest for the future.  A moments consideration is essential when siting a tree that might  grow for a thousand years or more – and is certainly an activity that shouldn’t be rushed. The manger freely admitted that the ground between established trees might have been difficult to dig, with established roots making precision planting difficult. Perhaps we were getting nearer to the truth now. And maybe one of the best reason for not planting a tree is when a bigger tree is telling you not to.

Recently, I noticed a couple of trees in the wood that were hardly planted at all – they were leaning over with their roots partially exposed above the soil; unless there is some artistic or practical reason for such an odd angle (e.g. hedge laying), it is likely that the process was hurried.

A small tree planted at 30 degrees off of the vertical; in consequence its roots are exposed.
A small tree planted at 30 degrees off of the vertical; in consequence its roots are exposed.

Tree planting is a discipline that has many variables and few guarantees, it is an unselfish act that should benefit future generations, but inevitably success can only be judged retrospectively.

My wife noticed this one a few days ago - a forgotten big leaf maple. Perhaps it is a bit mean to point this out more than a week and a half after the planting - but if you don't put them in the ground... they won't grow.
My wife noticed this one a few days ago – a forgotten big leaf maple. Perhaps it is a bit mean to point this out more than a week and a half after the planting – but if you don’t put them in the ground… they won’t grow.

Maybe people will come to this wood in future and take further pictures as the trees grow, and provide useful comparisons of change; but I still think that getting things right from the start, by siting potentially large trees with care, is the key – especially when adding them to an already existing woodland. In the end none of this is rocket science… It’s far more important than that.

N.B. I went into the woods on a Sunday morning not long after the planting, only to discover holes where some of the trees had been planted, most of these appeared to have been removed in a hurry and my first thought was that they must have been stolen. In the words of Homer Simpson, ‘I didn’t do it!’ I hurried home and left a message for the park authorities and then notified the police.

On the Monday I received an e-mail from parks. The manager had checked the plant spacing with his arborist and confirmed that the some of the planting was too close; subsequently the contractors were sent in to remedy the situation. They will also have to return again to fill in the holes that will otherwise act as pitfall traps for small animals. On the up side, the Surrey Parks Division response has been rapid in rectifying a mistake.

The Spotted Towhee is resident year round, but has been less frequently seen over the last twelve month, possibly due to disturbance caused by local urban development.
The Spotted Towhee is resident year round, but has been less frequently seen over the last twelve month, possibly due to disturbance caused by local urban development.

I expect local authorities where ever I have lived hold parties when I move on. But if I can make a small difference by simply observing and then using a camera, then many others can do the same. So, if something is not quite right where you are, then why not – ‘take a picture’ and help ‘save the planet’ – even if only in a small way.

With thanks to Professor Bernd Heinrich for observations made on his woodland in Maine, although there is no intention to imply that his views are reflected in this article.

To see hairy woodpeckers working a tree for grubs in Fleetwood Park, please watch:

And pileated woodpecker:

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Is Every Rotten Tree in the Forest Really Out to Get You?

The modern world has noticeably changed. We all have rights now; should a tree fall upon us somebody else will almost certainly be  responsible, and if an appropriate scapegoat can’t be found we can at least expect to sue our local authority. There is very little left in the developed world for which we are responsible – becoming fat, having too many children, getting run over when jogging across a busy intersection whilst listening to a stereo system plugged into our ears; even spilling hot coffee over ourselves in a public place clearly has nothing to do with us. Read the warning on the cup: ‘The beverage you are about to enjoy is extremely hot’. Personally, I wouldn’t risk it – a juice perhaps – but wait… there’s no diabetes warning – how irresponsible is that?

Whatever stupid thing we might choose to do is done with the understanding that when things go wrong it will always be somebody else’s fault – it falls to the authorities to protect us from every idiocy we care to perpetrate on ourselves; but as we pass on our personal responsibilities, inevitably a lot else goes with them, not least our personal freedom. And if you think that natural selection is no longer operating at the human level with our now near total control of the environment, you’d be wrong, because we are now maintaining all the stupidest genes within the pool by a process of litigation. Who’s really responsible when a tree falls on us? And shouldn’t it be up to us on occasions to see a potential problem before it arises?

This sort of thing isn't impossible, but it's rare - in this case I'm feeling better than appearances might suggest... and photographing fungi.
This sort of thing isn’t impossible, but it’s rare – in this case I’m feeling better than appearances might suggest… and photographing fungi.

My family and I now live in Surrey, British Columbia – we arrived around five years ago and it was then perhaps even greener than its leafy name sake in England. Both Surreys are well known for their tree filled suburbs – but something is very wrong with the one we now live in. According to a local report, the Surrey in B.C. has lost almost one fifth of its tree canopy in just over a decade and that isn’t very Canadian – most people here favour trees, which might seem a bit odd for a nation that not so long ago built an entire economy by cutting them down. Presently, it is the suburbs that are at the sharp end of the chop, and a large number of trees have been felled in recent years. Maybe fewer of us are bothered than was once the case, or it might just be that not enough people live in the same place for long enough to notice the changes.

Surrey Fleetwood Park's woodland habitat is a little gem amongst an urban sprawl.
Surrey Fleetwood Park’s woodland habitat is a little gem amongst an urban sprawl.

Not long after arriving, I was photographing birds in a local wood when a passing local stopped to talk. I told him that I had seldom seen such a diversity of birdlife in a suburban area, and he responded by saying that if I thought that this was diversity, then I should have been here twenty years ago.

In some Surrey woodlands bird diversity and numbers have decreased in recent years.
In some Surrey woodlands bird species diversity and numbers have decreased in recent years.

That’s just the way things go; we move in, then move on and hardly notice the change. Or could it be that we just allow our brains to slip into a happy state of mind. If so, this rosy thinking may have long term consequences because decreasing wildlife diversity is a clear indication that we are heading for trouble. I’ve noticed an obvious decline in woodland birds during the five years I have lived here – it’s a sad situation, but I’ve seen it happen before.

Getting older provides plenty of time for bad dreams to repeat themselves, but it clearly isn’t up to me to decide which woodlands should be protected from development, although it is obvious that this kind of destruction can’t continue at the present rate forever. Every local should be entitled to a view, but unfortunately most prefer to moan after the event, and many Canadians are so pleasant, they hardly complain at all. Fortunately, I’m not so good natured, and will comment even if it’s a little late to make a difference, but perhaps by doing so I’ll help to change the future… and we could argue for days as to whether that’s remotely possible.

Some people say we have a natural fear of the forest, and that may be so, but inn general the woods are a safer place than the suburbs or the city where people tend to be a good deal more dangerous than vegetables.
Some people say we have a natural fear of the forest, and that may be so, but in general the woods are a safer place than the suburbs or the city where people tend to be a good deal more dangerous than vegetation.

So, I’m away from the area for a week and return to discover a great many of the trees in Fleetwood Park woods have been felled along the main pathway, and on almost every occasion I return there, more trees that have been cut down. To me this seems a travesty, but I’m not sure that others share my view – I feel like the character in a 1960’s horror movie who has walked into that lonely pub on the moor thinking something is wrong, but the locals don’t want to talk about it.

The forest isn't full of werewolves and spirit bears and at least somebody in these parts thinks we should 'be happy' out in the woods - and I am. It is only red dots on trees that get me down.
The forest isn’t full of werewolves and spirit bears and at least somebody in these parts thinks we should ‘be happy’ out in the woods – and I am. It is only red dots on trees that get me down.

What is certain is that along the path a great many trees were marked with red paint and not long after, they were, and still are being cut down, probably due to a concern that one might fall onto the path, which occasionally happens, but usually this has happened at night during storms when the chance that somebody might be walking by is very low. Branches that fall directly from above in windy weather would certainly present a hazard, but there are none over the paths here, and a tree that topples directly onto somebody is unlikely in the extreme.

My wife Jenny in the woodland park waiting for a tree to fall on her... O.K. she's just bird watching.
My wife Jenny in the woodland park waiting for a tree to fall on her… Alright, she’s just bird watching.

It is surprising how long a rotten tree will stand before it goes over and when it does, you have to be as rooted to the spot as the tree once was to get hit. A tree falling takes time and is a noisy process. There is a little sign along the nature walk to make us feel good – it reads ‘Nature at Work’, and that’s exactly what this is – so the best thing you can do is step out of the way – unless you’re one of those litigious people just waiting for the right opportunity to bolster family fortunes.

There can be no complaints about cutting this one - clearly a rotter and close by the path it needed to come down for safety reasons. In praise of the local authority, the felled timber is left to rot, which is essential to the long term well being of the forest.
There can be no complaints about cutting this one – clearly a rotter and close by the path it needed to come down for safety reasons. In praise of the local authority, the felled timber is left to rot, which is essential to the long term well being of the forest.

The real concern is that many of the cut trees are not  dangerously rotten and there are a great many of them. It can take a hundred years and more for some trees to grow to a decent size, but only a few seconds to daub a blob of red paint on a trunk, with only a few more required to fell it.

This one probably could have stayed upright. When the edge of a woodland is cut, the tree line becomes irregular and there is good scientific evidence to show that the remaining trees become more vulnerable to an increase in swirling wind movement.
This one probably should have stayed upright. When the edge of a woodland is cut, the tree line becomes irregular and there is good scientific evidence to show that the remaining trees become more vulnerable to an increase in swirling wind movement.

Until recently we were lucky enough to own a small wood; and from an upper window I could watch the effect of storms on a tree line close by the house. When a large tree was blown over, disturbance to trees further into the forest was clearly noticeable and sealing the forest border produced a marked improvement in tree survival. Shrubs and trees allowed to grow naturally along the margin will substantially stabilise a forest and it is surprising how effective even a five to ten year old natural windbreak can be in sustaining the interior.

Why cut these trees? It just opens things up and makes the wood more susceptable to wind damage.
Why cut these trees? It just opens things up and makes the woodland more susceptable to wind damage.

I asked local people passing through the wood what they thought and most seemed unconcerned, and quite a few hadn’t even noticed – I can’t imagine how this is possible because it looks as if a battalion of tanks has driven through – apart from the obvious sharply cut tree bases, which didn’t seem at all odd to the man who thought the problem might have been caused by the wind. Another couple had other views: the man said cottonwoods didn’t grow nicely and  he’d like to see them replaced with conifers which he much preferred, and no matter how many trees came down the parks people would certainly replace them by planting more. His partner said she didn’t like the increasing development in the local area but the tree felling didn’t bother her at all, and in any case it wasn’t a major concern for them because they would be moving from the area. My response to this didn’t go down well.

I believe we should all engage in our local area while we are living there – otherwise almost anything goes…. and usually, quite literally, it does. I have to admit that this makes me think about what people rely want – maybe some just want different things than I do, or perhaps they don’t see the subject as important, and if this is the case, there can be little doubt that they are wrong. I accept that sometimes it is necessary to remove a tree that is in the wrong place, especially if it presents an obvious danger. Invasive species sometimes need dealing with and species that have been lost may need reintroducing: salmon berry has been re-established in some places here and its return is very welcome, but for the most part, a natural woodland that is re-generating successfully should be left alone – nature knows far better than we do where a tree should grow.

Some woodlands become waterlogged through fall and winter and there is no clear way of knowing which trees will be torn out at the roots.
Some woodlands become waterlogged through fall and winter and there is no clear way of knowing which trees will be torn out at the roots.

A tree that comes down in the interior may create a useful glade and increase plant diversity, but along the borders such an event can be destabilising and the incidence of ‘tearing out’ will usually increase in exposed locations; and a small woodland suffers from having a more exposed perimeter in relation to its area that a large forest.

I was sorry to see this old conifer come down. At the cut point it had a circumference of 14 feet and was 4 feet in diameter. About a hundred years old, the rot had set in further up the trunk,as indicated by bracket fungi, but a little rot shouldn't immediately result in a death sentence - the tree was still providing a source of nourishment for a great many species.
I was sorry to see this old conifer come down. At the cut point it had a circumference of 14 feet and was 4 feet in diameter. About a hundred years old, the rot had set in further up the trunk, as indicated by bracket fungi, but a little rot shouldn’t immediately result in a death sentence – the tree was still providing a source of nourishment for a great many species.
The same tree a month before it was felled was beautiful. Old trees with little or no top are unlikely to fall until they are very rotten and this one hadn't reached that stage. Sadly, the old trunk had been viewed with a garden rather than a forest mentality.
The same tree a month before it was felled was beautiful. Old trees with little or no top are unlikely to fall until they are very rotten and this one hadn’t reached that stage. Sadly, the old trunk had been viewed with a garden park mentality rather than considered as part of a natural forest.

A recent addition to the forest has been the introduction of information posts and these  really do need felling. There is plenty enough information that we have to absorb outside of the park; in urban environments this kind of thing is everywhere and we should be able to come to a woodland haven to get away from all of that. If there is a need to have an information board, then it should be at the entrance to the woodland walk with interior areas left free of clutter, which otherwise ruin both views and photographic opportunities.

These signs do have their uses in cold weather - I know exactly how cold it is at the point when the snow begins to slide off the top board - to reveal rhyming details for a woodland dweller, presumably with the intention of engaging children.
These signs do have their uses in winter – I know exactly how cold it is at the point when the snow begins to slide off the top board, but my preference is the snowy cover – beneath there is a picture of a woodland dweller with an accompanying description in rhyme, presumably to engage the minds of children. Sadly, the poetry leaves me feeling even colder than the snow.

Ironically the most recent information post to go up beside the path provides a description for pileated woodpecker, which is odd, because every tree along the way with even a little rot has been felled, leaving very few places for woodpeckers to feed or nest where they might easily be seen.

I didn't get the opportunity to observe pileted woodpeckers so easily before coming to Canada - these birds are a joy to observe as they hammer away at an old tree trunk, and there is a certain sadness in that I shall no longer be able to watch them so regularly in the local area.
I didn’t get the opportunity to observe pileated woodpeckers so easily before coming to Canada – these birds are a joy to observe as they hammer away at an old tree trunk, and there is a certain sadness that I shall no longer be able to watch them so regularly in my local area.
If it doesn't work out, I guess I'll just have to rely upon memories of my English childhood when I would sit and watch Woody Woodpecker cartoons on T.V. and dream one day of coming to North America to see the real thing.
If it doesn’t work out, I guess I’ll just have to rely upon memories from my English childhood when I would sit and watch Woody Woodpecker cartoons on T.V. and dream of one day coming to North America to see the real thing.

We need to be safe, but not ridiculously so. Cutting down a tree in the adjoining Fleetwood Park Garden is an altogether different consideration – a carefully laid out garden is a discipline that doesn’t pretend to emulate the wild. The woodland on the other hand isn’t just a place for joggers and people emptying their dogs, it also has a role to play in conserving nature, much to the delight of those who care about such things. When people lack transport or the necessary mobility to travel so extensively, natural parks in urban localities become an increasingly important amenity, especially as the natural world is pushed increasingly further away by development.  There is very little woodland left in most suburban areas and the last thing we need is overzealous tree cutting. A favourite mantra is that it is happening everywhere now, but that isn’t a good enough excuse to ignore the problem, we need to react.  So, when you see too much tree felling in your area – make a fuss; and remember… take a picture – and who knows, maybe one day this might help to save the Planet.

To see pileated woodpecker working an old tree in Fleetwood Park please go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8anLtDmImw

More worrying red dots are showing up on big tree trunks along the Fraser Highway at the point where it passes through Surrey’s Green Timbers Urban Forest………….. Should I be shouting ‘TIMBER!!!!’

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