Recently at the Greenfield Library I saw a small book on the best-seller shelf at the Greenfield Public Library — “The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate: Discoveries From a Secret World.”
It looked like a quiet book with its creamy cover and drawing of three trees, roots gently touching. The idea that plants can hear and talk is not new. I know of experiments with classroom or greenhouse plants, providing classical or rock music, talking to the plants encouragingly, or insulting them — all to see if these different approaches affect the plants differently.
Peter Wohlleben, a German forester and the author of the book, cared for his forests in the standard way in the 1980s, but he never felt happy about the kind of thinning he had to do or the pesticides he had to use. He also believed the science that already existed about the communality of trees.
What makes that communality and communication possible is the web of fungi that grow into and around tree roots, increasing the ability of the tree to gather nutrients and water and to share those resources with other trees nearby, which may be weaker or suffering. The fungi also send chemical and electrical signals. Dr. Suzanne Simard coined the term “Wood Wide Web” in Nature magazine.
One example of the experiments that were done showed that beeches share resources. In a grove of beeches, even though certain areas had different qualities of soil, it was found that the rate of photosynthesis in all the trees was the same. The trees were not dependent on the sunlight or nutrients gathered individually. They were sharing so that every leaf of every tree got the same amount of sugar.
Wohlleben worked with oak and beech forests. It doesn’t stretch the imagination too much to think that trees in close proximity could communicate with and help each other. Of course, there is more to the book than that and I recommend reading it.
By the time we left our 60 acres in Heath, about half was mixed woodland — mostly white pine and some hardwoods. We had loggers come in twice during our 35 years there to harvest the white pine and some hardwood for firewood. It was fairly young woodland, and it increased over time. A field west of the house was adjacent to a stand of white pines to its west. The wind blew pine seeds into the field, creating a substantial new stand of white pine.
The forester told us that the new stand of pines was very healthy, with no evidence of white pine weevil. I had been keen to show myself as a responsible forest owner and talked to our forester about thinning.
The trees were young enough that I could go out with our Christmas tree saw. He strongly discouraged me. He said it was too hard to know which trees to take out — which were weaker. So no work of that sort was done.
I thought maybe the forester shared my motto that procrastination is the gardener’s friend, but I never imagined that he might be considering the benefits that the trees in our pine grove offered each other.
Our Greenfield property has two trees that made it very appealing. We first saw the house during a wintery March, but the tall Norway spruce in the northwestern corner was dignified and stately.
Then, while we were going through the buying process, the horse chestnut tree came into beautiful bloom. The view from the kitchen window is pure delight.
Next to the horse chestnut are two slim hemlocks. I can’t help wondering if these trees communicate with each other, even if they are not the same species.
My husband was more taken by the very tall sycamore — or buttonball — tree that grows in front of the house on the street side of the sidewalk. It is very impressive. On the opposite side of the sidewalk is a lilac tree. It is a true syringa, producing airy white blossoms, not really like lilac flowers, but breathing out a delicious fragrance that catches everyone’s attention as they walk by. Two very different trees.
Could the tall and imposing sycamore have anything to say to the smaller, flowery lilac tree? Those sycamore roots travel far. We have hit them when planting perennials some distance away. Those roots could easily embrace and whisper to the lilac so close by.
We have planted new trees in the backyard, part of my low-maintenance garden plan. Two river birch trees don’t mind flood season in the garden. The weeping cherry is planted nearer the house, which is less apt to flood. All of those three trees are doing nicely.
Last year, I planted a small pagoda dogwood, chosen for the sculptural arrangement of its branches. It too is near the house, but it’s too early to see how it has come through the winter.
Surely, the birches will bond, but will they have any interest in the cherry or dogwood? I think the birches are gentlemanly, and I will be watching to see if they show any care for the pretty ladies, or if they will leave them to their sighs and fans, like ladies in cocktail party corners, longing for someone to come and make conversation?
When you look out your windows, what trees do you see? Do you think they are paying any attention to each other?
It is hard to tell, but maybe it is possible, even if they come from different branches of the tree family. I hope so.
Pat Leuchtman has written and gardened since 1980. She lives in Greenfield. Readers can leave comments at her Web site: www.commonweeder.com