With a little help
No woman is an island, and when times are tough we can learn a thing or two from trees about how friends and family are the ones who always ensure we get by
Ihave a confession: I’m a tree hugger. I have particular favourites for different moods. There is a holly tree with smooth grey bark that seems to calm anger, there is a stand of aspen that always cheers me up with its shivering leaves and an oak by a loch that is such a familiar old friend I can never stand beneath its branches and take anything too seriously.
On Ben Damph, because woodland is so fragmented, it usually takes a long walk to get to each individual tree, which is probably a big part of the magic formula. For some time I worried the trees were ‘lonely’ so a few years I took it upon myself to plant some more trees in tubes as part of a Woodland Improvement Grant. I planted them in clumps of mixed species, as I thought this would look pretty. With the help of ‘Trees for Beers’ volunteers (mates I paid in beer), we planted stands of birch with hazel and rowan or Scots pine with hawthorn and willow.
I was feeling very pleased with myself until I relaxed on the sofa with a copy of The Hidden Life of Trees. German forester Peter Wohlleben explains how trees ‘talk’ to each other underground by a network of mycorrhizal fungi. This ‘wood wide web’ uses chemical signals to share water and nutrients between trees. The trouble is, it only works if they are the same species.
I had made the rookie mistake of thinking above the ground, rather than below which is where the important stuff happens for a tree. Since The Hidden Life of Trees was published other books have come out about underground networks, such as Finding the Mother Tree by Suzanne Simard. This book suggests that a ‘mother tree’ helps to co-ordinate the ‘tree internet’ so all members of the forest thrive.
The idea is so mainstream now that when
I sat down at my desk recently to look at the latest report on woodland creation for Ben Damph I was not surprised to find the equivalent of ‘mother trees’ on the map. Instead of just mapping out the best place to plant trees based on soil type etc, forestry consultants Treestory had identified the ‘Wild Living Trees’ on the estate. The idea is that these trees become a seed source for regeneration within a deer fence, providing a genetic connection to the first woodlands colonising after the ice age. These specimens act as ‘mother trees’ with an established mycorrhizal network that new trees are able to tap into, enabling them to develop healthy root networks more easily.
It got me thinking about my own ‘networks’. The end of 2023 was a tough one for my family with necessary trips to hospital, which meant we were away a lot. As usual I depended on my friends and neighbours to help me out with running the self-catering properties and dealing with the usual winter problems such as fallen trees and burst outdoor shower pipes. Then there are jobs such as dealing with an injured deer, finding people to eat venison so we have room in the freezer for more and getting the mincer
‘Trees talk to each other by a network of mycorrhizal fungi’
up and running. In the past we have had to ask neighbours to run round to the other side of the loch with sewage rods to unblock a smelly pipe or tie a feral sheep to a gatepost to stop it attacking walkers. Sometimes we even have to rope in guests to decorate a Christmas tree, model for a fashion shoot or swish out the hot tub.
The Highlands can seem like a lonely place when you first encounter it, especially with the few ‘Wild Living Trees’ dotting the landscape. But I would argue that it is one of the most connected places in Scotland simply because you have to help each other out when there are relatively few people and a lot of jobs to be done.
Like the trees, I am reminded that I don’t stand a chance without my friends and neighbours. They are another kind of network but this time above ground and even more deserving of a hug.