October - honouring the forefathers of silviculture
Written for and originally published by Homes & Gardens
There is a particular shade of pale which birch or hazel hold in that first cut in the autumn. This custard-cream is so pure in an otherwise autumnal wood, it’s tempting to reach down and eat the chips. I always make the first cut with an axe before starting the chainsaw, an odd ritual I’ve fabricated out of respect, easing the woodland into its felling season, but also acknowledging the woodmen managing Broome Wood with axes and billhooks for a thousand years before me.
I’m sure the birds know the sound of an axe or hook through generationally-passed knowledge, so my first cut is also a request for their permission, demonstrating my understanding of the old ways. Nonsense, possibly, but I like to show intent towards nature’s needs through an understanding of our more connected past.
As we are approaching that first reflective cut, the great diarist and forefather of silviculture John Evelyn comes to mind. I think of him today because this October marks his 400th birthday.
I feel oddly connected to Evelyn, not just because we share a passion for trees and forests but also because I was his neighbour, separated by a few hundred metres and a few hundred years, in Deptford in London. He wrote a significant book there called Sylva, A Discourse of Forest Trees and the Propagation of Timber in His Majesty’s Dominions. This book was a study of Britain’s forests and their potential resource, published in 1664 with royal decree because timber was the basis of a strong navy, the foundations of a powerful 17th century nation. It was a book where sustainability links to economic and political might, and has shaped the woodland, and indeed the nation, we have today.
We often think of woodlands as places that look back, but those who manage them are looking forward, often beyond their own lifetimes. Sylva was looking hundreds of years onwards, making plans for forests with purpose. I often wonder what Evelyn would make of our modern relationship with trees; perhaps not since before Sylva’s publication have trees been more needed, yet less understood. Woodlands and trees offer such value to us; carbon sequestration, urban escape, pollution filtration, biodiversity services, fuel and fibre supply, and yet woodlands are under threat from us too, through pathogenic transfer from our globally-connected world, and poor management by saw, spade or unbalanced ecosystem.
The future of forests is unknown, but it does look promising. In the recent general election campaign, tree saplings became political confetti. I prefer a political promise of acres of land left to self-establish as wood-land, than a zillion trees planted, but there is still need for slipping a sapling into cut turf where natural woodland succession happens slowly. The Woodland Trust offer good advice on how to get involved with tree planting, and now is the time of year to do so. After we coppice this autumn, we’ll be inter-planting our mixed woodland with species such as wild service, cherry and crab apple to boost the arboreal biodiversity.
This century there will be great commercial demands on woodlands as industries discover new and exciting uses for tree fibres or fuel, many of which I welcome if they work with wood as habitat, too. We must educate ourselves on the nuances of these complex organisms and ecosystems in order to manage or protect them better. A great place to start, as always, is a book; The New Sylva was written by Gabriel Hemery for today’s silvicultural predicament. As Hemery writes, ‘Caring for trees and forests is an intergenerational responsibility’, and he’s right. What we do now with our trees and forests is not for us, but for generations after us. So we must take responsibility with spades, axes, billhooks, and our own understanding of these generation-spanning life-givers, and aspire to leave a legacy as thoughtful and purposeful as Evelyn’s.