Lessons in Climate Strategies: Wisdom of the Oaks
Alone and as a family, we hike frequently in the woods here. Easily the dominant tree species here is a conifer called Douglas fir — “dougies” locally, named for a Scottish naturalist who visited the region long ago. Several in walking distance are almost 1000 years old and over 100 m. in height. All but the oldest trees stand straight at attention: proudly tall and fiercely green all year. Their stands can be dense, even crowded.
I also love Oregon white oaks, a species with broad leaves in summer and pale bark. There are far fewer oaks. They can be quite large, with sprawling octopus arms when they grow in open fields or yards. Often they strain crookedly for the sky, their trunks scarred from fire and lost limbs. Each tree feels like a person, shaped with a personal history of light, soil, and wind.
The dougies have one strategy: grow fast and as a tall as light allows. Be a pencil. A tree can easily reach 30 meters in a decade given enough water and light. In contrast, the tracks of hope and trauma are inscribed in the bark of the white oaks. These trees grow with context, reacting to circumstances. Almost every dougie looks the same, while all oaks are distinct.
It’s easy to assume that a single strategy may work — that context is not important. That we can always grow like a pencil. And in truth, many dougies do very well when they are long, straight, and true. They fail more often, yet they are the most abundant trees here. Our oaks show their scars even as they quietly persist with bending strength.
Can both approaches work with climate change? Absolutely, though by nature, age, and experience I identify with the oaks, and my head tells me that adjusting to context is never a bad choice for any of us. Indeed, the oldest dougies show their scars from the centuries, with lightning blasted tops, shattered bark, and bent trunks. With enough time, experience has shaped their massive bodies. Meters thick, afraid of nothing, surrounded by their offspring. They have come to know the wisdom of the oaks.
John Matthews
Corvallis, Oregon, USA