A forest is a wondrous thing.
It is not just so many board feet of lumber. It is a laboratory where a person can see everything working together in delicate balance. And it is a thing of beauty.
A forest is not just trees, with “cleaned” or “cleared” areas around them, making it look like a landscaped park or a country estate. A forest has humus: brush and ground litter which can feed a fire, but is also the stuff necessary for the growth of the forest. Decaying trees, as well as brush and ground litter, create new soil. There is no other way to get it. The more diverse the trees and other plants are, the richer the soil will be. This rich soil allows mushrooms, toadstools, and flowers to grow.
The brush and ground litter also provide food, homes, and cover for many creatures. Earthworms live there and aerate the soil. Dead trees on the ground are homes to insects, snails, beetles, and termites, which are food for birds and other creatures. Upright dead trees are homes for birds and perches for predators.
Living trees provide high-rise apartments for birds and small mammals. Porcupines feed on living trees. Beavers eat trees and build with them. In the winter, deer and elk can feed off high branches when the snow has covered up other plants.
Lichens grow on trees, and in turn, produce nutrients for them. Woodpeckers enjoy hardwoods, while chickadees and flickers look for softer wood for nests.
A forest is an oxygen factory. A tree takes in carbon dioxide that humans and other creatures exhale, and then gives off the oxygen that they need. As we cut down trees, particularly in the clear-cut method that cuts and clears away everything, oxygen production goes down and harmful ozone builds up.
A forest is a protector. Tree roots hold the soil packed together; this cuts down on erosion. Roots also draw up water, keeping the water table high.
Besides being practical and function, a forest is a joy. Its shade is welcome on a hot day; it is a windbreak on a cold one.
Under the big top, the canopy of high branches, it’s a circus. Clowning squirrels leap from branch to branch and chase each other around and around and up and down. With bright eyes, they watch passersby and scold them. Spiders are the acrobats, spinning their own ropes; only they know which are the sticky ones that will catch their prey.
A forest is a concert of bird music: the “dee-dee-dee” of the chickadees, the soft call and whirr of the mourning dove, the sharp strident note of the blue joy, and the hammer blows of the woodpecker. In Texas, there is the loveliest melody of all, that of the mockingbird, our state bird.
There is also the music of the wind, slight breeze or strong storm. Especially moving is when the wind blows the pines. It sounds like rushing water — and it is beautiful.
A forest is a sculpture on a still day, when no wind blows the branches or when it stands in deep snow. It is a painting at any time, either when the trees are quiet sentinels or tossing about during the violence of a summer storm.
A forest is a retreat, a respite from modern life, which quietly eases stress. No one has to rush through a forest or meet deadlines. No one has to give a report on it. A person may just relax and let jangled nerves unjangle.
A forest is a cathedral, where God’s presence is almost tangible. A person can take time to feel this presence, and listen to what God wants to say in the quiet of His creation.
We need forests both for the physical health of the planet, and for our own mental health. A forest is necessary to life.
Ann's Thoughts 