Strange weather is but a foretaste—and still there are those who are cutting down trees for no good reason. WHAT are they thinking? ARE they thinking? We humans are the most destructive of all Creation. Our redeeming quality is that we can change all that—if we get back to integrity, honour and caring. We are running out of choices. But we know all this…. don’t we? If we wait till the Apocalypse arrives, it will be TOO LATE! Do something NOW! Civilization is in desperate need of people who will speak and act for those who cannot. Climate change is a reality and you don’t need an expert to tell you where to look for the evidence—it is all around you. Just LOOK. We have a friend, a helicopter pilot currently working in Nigeria who comes back to Cape Town every few weeks. What he sees every day from his bird’s eye view in the helicopter, is truly frightening. Those age-old forests that help control and regulate the world’s rainfall are being decimated at an unbelievable rate, as are the Amazon forests. What are we doing about it? Precious little, if anything—pretty much too little, too late! That won’t change either until there is a shift in our thinking… until the value of a growing, healthy tree is greater than the timber it may or may not yield.
Not only do we need trees for shelter and protection (eg. windbreaks), we need trees for their beauty. Biodiversity is what creates a favourable environment for all concerned, both man and the animals who were the first inhabitants. The trend at present is for Holistic farming where one works with nature. Here, all creatures are allowed to exist—even the predators. Luckily, this is becoming more widely practised. Neil McGregor, a farmer in the Niewoudtville area, has done just that. Starting many years ago he has made a huge success of this method.
Here is what happened to a tree I loved and often used to visit. The word ‘visit’ taken from the Oxford dictionary, gives a few options. I have chosen two. The first is ‘go to see and spend time with.’
Whenever my special tree came into view on my daily walks, I would catch my breath—those spreading branches and its quiet dignity. It looked so firmly anchored, so permanent, so reassuring—a Milkwood, a protected tree—or so I thought!
Under the tree, was a mass of old, twisted, gnarled and exposed roots going in all directions, holding fast to the earth—nothing could move that tree, not even the strongest of winds. Throughout its more than 100 years on this earth, it had withstood and recovered from many storms, many hardships from crippling droughts to irresponsible aerial crop spraying, which had turned its glossy dark green leaves yellow.A Tree of Stature
Imagine this tree throughout its life—the first few years after germination—all alone. Probably started as a berry, dropped by a bird on its way somewhere, through lean years of drought and hot veld fires to good years with adequate rainfall. Ploughing and harvesting must have been rather scary when you’re a little Milkwood trying to survive. But it managed and grew and grew till it became a tree of stature—a shelter to man and beast when the heat shimmered all around. In the fields above were other Milkwoods of a similar age and size and over the years those trees became a landmark for the generations of people who lived nearby or were visiting the area.
MILKWOODS WERE, AND STILL ARE, PROTECTED TREES!
A few months ago, the approach road to our property was altered and we thought it a rather nice, albeit a longer distance. We nevertheless phoned and thanked the owner of the farm between our house and the Infanta road. Weeks went by until our next trip to the river.
Something seemed different, the field above our property was all rough and ploughed up. Then it hit us like a thunderbolt! Someone else had paid a visit. Here, the second meaning of the word ‘visit’ applies—meaning ‘inflict something harmful and unpleasant’. The Milkwood was gone—there was no sign of it having ever been there! Oh God, that beautiful tree.... just... gone! A priceless heritage lost for ALL time! Shock gave way to anger so intense that we were speechless. The fury is still there. All those years of growing, struggling—now, pointlessly destroyed. No earthly reason can EVER vindicate such destruction.
What must that tree have felt while it was being gouged out of the ground by huge, mechanical machines, roots being torn from its hold on the patch of earth where its birth-awakening took place.
Think too, of the habitat of the smaller creatures who saw that tree as their home, their protection. Not long ago, a pair of Secretary birds were interested in building their nest in its leafy top. Other birds also nested there. Nearby, Bat-eared foxes had their den. The Stanley’s Bustards used to frequent that field in the breeding season and it was an amazing sight to see the males puff out their white chest feathers. Blue Cranes and their chicks and sometimes a family of Rheebuck would stand and watch our approach for a few seconds then run for cover. All gone now—and so is the pleasant anticipation of seeing all these lovely glimpses of nature on the way to the river.
Will those innocent animals be tolerated once those fields are planted? Time will tell. It seems that, once again, the original inhabitants will be displaced unless their future is taken into account and provision is made for them nearby.
By killing one tree in that situation, you kill off a whole biosphere and, the sad fact is, you cannot reinstate that biosphere in one human lifetime. The trees and those they protected are gone for good. I once found the perfect quotation—one I have used before: “God placed animals in our care …not at our mercy”. It appears that all of nature is now at our mercy—see where playing God has got us!
Permit Granted
That tree was not the only one killed in that way at about the same time. There were others of similar age—all beautiful and all old. I have the pictures of those trees, sent to those in charge of issuing permits for the removal of protected trees. What they do NOT show is the sheer size of those trees. Pity I did not at least have someone standing next to, or under the trees to show their scale. No one from the department came to inspect the trees earmarked for destruction—yet the permit was granted.
When you look around at other farms in the area, you will see trees in the middle of a field that is planted every year. The farmers simply plough and harvest around them.
They are sensitive to their environment and have learned to live with nature. A tree in a field is such a thing of beauty and the eye goes straight to it like an arrow. The environment has been shaped by nature over time and it knows best. It is easier to change our thinking. Our time here is short and as custodians we have a duty to those who come after us. In memory of that tree and the others in that field, I think this timeless poem is appropriate:I think I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast.
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair.
Upon whose bosom snow has lain
Who intimately lives with rain
Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer (1886—1918)&
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