I've walked so many trails in Whatcom and Skagit counties, here in the most Northwestern parts of the Evergreen state, yet I've only come across a handful of tiny pockets of Old Growth forest. They tend to be small sections of land protected by a token land grant to appease some environmentalists, surrounded by clearcuts, or land right below the alpine zone, "so high the chainsaws run out of oxygen."
Given that I can count on one or two hands the number of tiny pockets of Old Growth left in Whatcom county, I would take a wild guess and say that probably around 1 % of the old growth that once was still exists here.
What is an even rarer find than a pocket of Old Growth forest, and one that I appreciate possibly more than the true Old Growth forest, is forest land that has been logged but managed in such a wise way as to leave it in good condition for future generations. Left to its own devices, the land finds a way to remain rich, the soil healthy, erosion minimized, the biomass great--land that supports life. I appreciate this land because I live in a house made by wood and use wood products every day, so it would be ridiculous to say we should protect every square inch of the land to remain Old Growth, though clearly we do need to protect what little we have left.
A particular good sign of land that is on its way to becoming rich and healthy again is the spiky plant known as Devil's Club, which likes soil that has been disturbed but is healthy, like the forests I tend to walk. Seeing the Devil's Club is a sign of a forest on its way to recovery.
For so many lands outside the token lands left unlogged, the forest is left looking like a graveyard or a post-apocalyptic war zone. The remains of a clearcut look like bombed-out craters, like a prairie slashed and littered with bleached buffalo bones. Scraggly trees, erosion, poor moisture retention. In essence, a destroyed ecosystem. You can find these lands all over the Pacific Northwest. If you fly over in an airplane, with the exception of a few volcanoes, what you see is a checkerboard. An arbitrarily plotted checkerboard with squares going back and forth between monocultures and wastelands. It doesn't take a biologist to see that this strategy is short-term at best and destructive in the long term. Sure, there are a few token parks and wilderness areas--"artificially preserved lands." What is rare is land managed with any sense of conservation, like this second growth forest that we recently found, which I'll call the Devil's Club Forest.
For so long in American history, conservation efforts were equated with anti-business sentiment, which really isn't a healthy approach. Ecology and economy are not mutually exclusive terms. Protecting land isn't what has ruined the economic realities of logging communities during the last 30-some years. Poor land management practices and robots have done more damage to rural economies than any spotted owl. Not just logging communities bear the brunt of these "lost forests"--all of us do. And we can't just blame timber companies that managed their inventories only for the short term and shipped off raw product to be made into value-added product in foreign countries, again robbing logging communities of a lot of revenue and jobs. We have to blame all of us--for wanting more stuff and cheaper. But this cheap stuff is only cheap in the short term.
Robots, mechanization, in general, and automation have quietly killed more jobs than any immigrant or any trade deal.
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| Devil's Club |
For so long in American history, conservation efforts were equated with anti-business sentiment, which really isn't a healthy approach. Ecology and economy are not mutually exclusive terms. Protecting land isn't what has ruined the economic realities of logging communities during the last 30-some years. Poor land management practices and robots have done more damage to rural economies than any spotted owl. Not just logging communities bear the brunt of these "lost forests"--all of us do. And we can't just blame timber companies that managed their inventories only for the short term and shipped off raw product to be made into value-added product in foreign countries, again robbing logging communities of a lot of revenue and jobs. We have to blame all of us--for wanting more stuff and cheaper. But this cheap stuff is only cheap in the short term.
Robots, mechanization, in general, and automation have quietly killed more jobs than any immigrant or any trade deal.
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Does this look like healthy land management?
Fast thinking, the connection economy, and a laser focus on efficiency measured in the short term have killed any dream of a peaceful day in the factory. These things have also killed the forest and communities that depend on forests. As Wendell Berry notes, "Bad logging, like bad farming, comes from estrangement between the industrial economy and nature's ecosystems." Possibly no greater exception to the rule of a free market capitalism is the forest. Short-term land management always leads to long-term exhaustion of resources and in turn has produced the ghost towns of the west. |
Land management, which has always been for the short term, has brought about the demise of logging communities across the Pacific Northwest. As a vowed free market capitalist, I can see what's good about free market thinking--the free exchange of ideas and goods, making decisions by efficiencies over creed. I can also see clearly where free market capitalism fails--unfortunately, these efficiencies are measured in the short-term--a quarter, or year at best--when the cycles of our planet, particularly forests, are measured in centuries or decades at the very least.
With forests, the problem is that state-funded ag schools and schools of forestry have long taught that trees are "crops" to be "harvested." The problem with this nomenclature is that "crops" tend to work in annual cycles while trees' cycles tend to be measured as stated above in decades or centuries. Harvesting this year's "crop" of trees affects the forest and thereby the "next crop."
Rather than "crops" to be "harvested," a slightly more reasonable approach might be to see the forest as livestock. As Wendell Berry points out, "No sane farmer would sell all her brood cows, keep their heifer calves, and wait for another calf crop until the heifers have become old enough to breed and calve [...] Nor would a sane cattle farmer 'highgrade' his herd by selling his best cows and keeping and breeding the worst." But these are precisely regular practices in forestry.
A stand consisting only of the "best" trees is a tree farm, not a forest. Healthy forests require dying trees and unmarketable species.The source of wood products is not trees but the forest. Tree farms work in places with exceptional growing climate (like the southeast United States) while producing mediocre product, which is fine because that's in general what the market wants--wood composites for making cheap Ikea furniture.
The sustainable forest yields both higher quality wood and more wood over the long term. In his essay "The Last Stand" Aldo Leopold mentions a forest called the Spessart on the north flank of the Alps. Half of it has sustained cuttings since 1605 but has never been clear cut (slashed in Leopold's terminology) and the other half clear cut in the 1600s: "Despite this rigid protection, the old slashing now produces only mediocre pine, while the unslashed portions grows the finest cabinet oak in the world; one of those oaks fetches a higher price than a whole acre of the old slashings. On the old slashings the litter accumulates without rotting, stumps and limbs disappear slowly, natural reproduction is slow. On the unslashed portion litter disappears as it falls, stumps and limbs rot at once, natural reproduction is automatic. Foresters attribute the inferior performance of the old slashing to its depleted microflora, meaning that underground community of bacteria, molds, fungi, insects, and burrowing mammals which constitute half the environment of a tree." Indeed, "there is no significant difference between forest ecology and a long-term forest economy."
Indeed, a healthy large tree makes more wood per year than many small ones. Wendell Berry's illuminating essay "A Forest Conversation" from his aptly titled book Our Only World recounts his time with a Pennsylvania logger who employs a crew of Amish teamsters and their horses to sustainably yield a healthy forest, producing veneer-quality cherry trees and maple syrup. The Pennsylvania logger formed a Foundation for Sustainable Forests whose goal "is an abundance of intact forest ecosystems that provide for the widest range of native biodiversity possible, sustainable forest products, the economic viability of rural communities, and recreational opportunities." The novel concept is that this logger's family lives with the land cooperatively rather than from the land. And, here's the kicker, the logger, his land and his community are healthier, even in an economic sense, when logging in this more sustainable way.
The Amish teamsters operate horses, which are kinder to the forest than mechanical skidders, leaving less scars and damaged life. The other significant advantage is cost--a skidder might cost $150,000. A team of horses with accompanying tools $5000. Yes, they have to be fed and trained and there are huge economies of scale achieved with the mechanical skidder. But once you make the significantly larger capital outlay for the mechanical skidder, the economic pressure to log as quick as possible skyrockets, just about always resulting in reckless land use that is only good for the very short term.
There are 3 Amish teamsters employed per every one mechanical skidder operator. Which would give another significant efficiency gain to the mechanical skidder, except that two local jobs are lost. The purchase of the mechanical skidder only aids the economy of a remote corporation that lives off the "rent" of monthly payments on the skidder--it may even be that the logging outfit brings in a remote driver to live temporarily in the community and then abandon the community once the forest has been slashed.
I've never been a believer in "job creation"--a government or even government policies don't "create jobs." Having meaningful work is what really makes it possible for people to work. And using the teamsters in the end makes more economic sense--by employing local people, keeping economic gains within the community, and producing a more sustainable yield, which is also a more valuable yield.
Business talk refers to vertical integration. With a sustainable forest, the land works within a "vertical structure." The growth of a fern depends on the deer population, which may or may not affect the blackberry population and be affected by the wolf or cougar populations, all of which play a role in the health of the forest. Not to mention all of the microflora and microfauna. With better land management practices and creative fixes like using the Amish teamsters doubles the productivity of poorly managed lands, while also increasing the number of human workers doing real work that creates value for the community and the forest.
One success story for managing our resources on the sustainable yield principle is Alaska seafood. Alaska seafood proves how valuable the principle of sustainable yield is. In Alaska, it came as the result of watching other places--California, Oregon, Washington, New England, and Europe almost completely eradicate salmon from their watersheds. What's important beyond the sustainable part of this equation is the yield. Because if we were just to say "Let's never touch a salmon again," that would be worse for the salmon and the habitats within which they live. Fishermen and those whose lives depend on yielding salmon have fought hard to protect watersheds from large mining, timber and other polluters that wouldn't have "touched" the salmon but would have completely ruined the places where salmon dwell. The same goes for the forest.
The Economist recently reported on the extreme damage to forests caused by fires and beetles as the result of climate change, a problem that only looks to get worse before it gets better. Smart partnerships between the unlikely bedfellows of forestry and NGOs, like the Nature Conservancy, have intelligently thinned forest areas, both protecting the forest from rampant logging and rampant forest fires. It might be too little, too late, but these partnerships give forests life in an economic and ecological sense. Ecology and economy are not mutually exclusive terms--in fact, their partnership is essential for life.
With forests, the problem is that state-funded ag schools and schools of forestry have long taught that trees are "crops" to be "harvested." The problem with this nomenclature is that "crops" tend to work in annual cycles while trees' cycles tend to be measured as stated above in decades or centuries. Harvesting this year's "crop" of trees affects the forest and thereby the "next crop."
Rather than "crops" to be "harvested," a slightly more reasonable approach might be to see the forest as livestock. As Wendell Berry points out, "No sane farmer would sell all her brood cows, keep their heifer calves, and wait for another calf crop until the heifers have become old enough to breed and calve [...] Nor would a sane cattle farmer 'highgrade' his herd by selling his best cows and keeping and breeding the worst." But these are precisely regular practices in forestry.
A stand consisting only of the "best" trees is a tree farm, not a forest. Healthy forests require dying trees and unmarketable species.The source of wood products is not trees but the forest. Tree farms work in places with exceptional growing climate (like the southeast United States) while producing mediocre product, which is fine because that's in general what the market wants--wood composites for making cheap Ikea furniture.
The sustainable forest yields both higher quality wood and more wood over the long term. In his essay "The Last Stand" Aldo Leopold mentions a forest called the Spessart on the north flank of the Alps. Half of it has sustained cuttings since 1605 but has never been clear cut (slashed in Leopold's terminology) and the other half clear cut in the 1600s: "Despite this rigid protection, the old slashing now produces only mediocre pine, while the unslashed portions grows the finest cabinet oak in the world; one of those oaks fetches a higher price than a whole acre of the old slashings. On the old slashings the litter accumulates without rotting, stumps and limbs disappear slowly, natural reproduction is slow. On the unslashed portion litter disappears as it falls, stumps and limbs rot at once, natural reproduction is automatic. Foresters attribute the inferior performance of the old slashing to its depleted microflora, meaning that underground community of bacteria, molds, fungi, insects, and burrowing mammals which constitute half the environment of a tree." Indeed, "there is no significant difference between forest ecology and a long-term forest economy."
Indeed, a healthy large tree makes more wood per year than many small ones. Wendell Berry's illuminating essay "A Forest Conversation" from his aptly titled book Our Only World recounts his time with a Pennsylvania logger who employs a crew of Amish teamsters and their horses to sustainably yield a healthy forest, producing veneer-quality cherry trees and maple syrup. The Pennsylvania logger formed a Foundation for Sustainable Forests whose goal "is an abundance of intact forest ecosystems that provide for the widest range of native biodiversity possible, sustainable forest products, the economic viability of rural communities, and recreational opportunities." The novel concept is that this logger's family lives with the land cooperatively rather than from the land. And, here's the kicker, the logger, his land and his community are healthier, even in an economic sense, when logging in this more sustainable way.
The Amish teamsters operate horses, which are kinder to the forest than mechanical skidders, leaving less scars and damaged life. The other significant advantage is cost--a skidder might cost $150,000. A team of horses with accompanying tools $5000. Yes, they have to be fed and trained and there are huge economies of scale achieved with the mechanical skidder. But once you make the significantly larger capital outlay for the mechanical skidder, the economic pressure to log as quick as possible skyrockets, just about always resulting in reckless land use that is only good for the very short term.
There are 3 Amish teamsters employed per every one mechanical skidder operator. Which would give another significant efficiency gain to the mechanical skidder, except that two local jobs are lost. The purchase of the mechanical skidder only aids the economy of a remote corporation that lives off the "rent" of monthly payments on the skidder--it may even be that the logging outfit brings in a remote driver to live temporarily in the community and then abandon the community once the forest has been slashed.
I've never been a believer in "job creation"--a government or even government policies don't "create jobs." Having meaningful work is what really makes it possible for people to work. And using the teamsters in the end makes more economic sense--by employing local people, keeping economic gains within the community, and producing a more sustainable yield, which is also a more valuable yield.
Business talk refers to vertical integration. With a sustainable forest, the land works within a "vertical structure." The growth of a fern depends on the deer population, which may or may not affect the blackberry population and be affected by the wolf or cougar populations, all of which play a role in the health of the forest. Not to mention all of the microflora and microfauna. With better land management practices and creative fixes like using the Amish teamsters doubles the productivity of poorly managed lands, while also increasing the number of human workers doing real work that creates value for the community and the forest.
One success story for managing our resources on the sustainable yield principle is Alaska seafood. Alaska seafood proves how valuable the principle of sustainable yield is. In Alaska, it came as the result of watching other places--California, Oregon, Washington, New England, and Europe almost completely eradicate salmon from their watersheds. What's important beyond the sustainable part of this equation is the yield. Because if we were just to say "Let's never touch a salmon again," that would be worse for the salmon and the habitats within which they live. Fishermen and those whose lives depend on yielding salmon have fought hard to protect watersheds from large mining, timber and other polluters that wouldn't have "touched" the salmon but would have completely ruined the places where salmon dwell. The same goes for the forest.
The Economist recently reported on the extreme damage to forests caused by fires and beetles as the result of climate change, a problem that only looks to get worse before it gets better. Smart partnerships between the unlikely bedfellows of forestry and NGOs, like the Nature Conservancy, have intelligently thinned forest areas, both protecting the forest from rampant logging and rampant forest fires. It might be too little, too late, but these partnerships give forests life in an economic and ecological sense. Ecology and economy are not mutually exclusive terms--in fact, their partnership is essential for life.
