"The Forest is More Than the Trees..."

by: friar Rich Rome, OFM Conv.

It looked like a scene out of Stranger Things.  We had come to the top of a mountain, which had been the site of a strip mine in the 1990s and somewhat returned to forest.  It had been raining the entire time we had been in Kentucky, and while it still was raining, there was a brief reprieve in the intensity.  Stepping off the main trail, we walked through the exceptionally green brush, made so green this year from the copious amounts of rain, until we came to the site: a circle of burnt orange about 50 yards in diameter containing about 40 black-trunked trees within the circle, the tallest of which were over 30 feet high.  These were loblolly pines, very familiar to me since they are one of the most common trees we have in coastal Virginia.  But here, they seemed out of place. 

The circle of orange was the accumulation of all the pine needles they had dropped as they had grown over the last 15 years as part of an experiment by a professor from the University of Kentucky.  While the rest of the trees around the site had much growing underneath them, the loblollies had very little – mostly poison ivy and other weeds.  And that was the point.  Loblollies, while very common in the south, are uncommon in the mountains.  While climate change is expected to shift their growth further north, they are being used in this experiment to keep other invasive species at bay.

In contrast to deep mining, strip mining removes the layers of soil and rock to get to the coal seam within a mountain.  The ecological problem this creates is that the top soil is removed and all the layers are mixed up; it can take 150 years to naturally generate an inch of top soil.  When strip mining is complete, companies will often plant non-native species since the native plants cannot grow without the topsoil.  Furthermore, the soil is often compacted and rocky from the heavy vehicle traffic, so it is very poor at retaining water.  So, while the mountain may look green and full of life, it is not a natural forest.

The consequence of mining and climate change is worrying for the prospect of native trees, particularly red oak and white oak (which are used to make bourbon barrels).  The loblollies seem to prevent the non-natives from taking root and start the process of recreating top soil.  But it is very slow.  One promising sign in the middle of the orange circle: a red oak seedling was beginning to sprout.  Loblollies have a short life span (for a tree), so the hope is that native trees can move into the area once the loblollies fall.

At the end of the day, we went to Robinson Forest, an old growth forest that was never mined and is now protected.  It serves as a control for the experiment – an example of what an Appalachian forest should look like.  This forest is a stark contrast to the former strip mine.  To underscore the difference, the professor who guided our tour told us about the endangered Cerulean Warbler.  This migratory bird, native to Colombia, comes to the Appalachians in the summer, but they have to nest in shady, old-growth forests.  As the forests have been felled here for mining and timber, they are also being felled in the Andes to make way for coffee plantations. So, the Cerulean Warblers have stopped appearing, not only in Appalachia, but also in Colombia.

In 1995, the bishops of Appalachia put out a second pastoral letter, which was truly ahead of its time.  In it, they called for sustainable forestry “since Appalachia is basically forest”; a sustainable model could ensure that the forest’s biodiversity remains intact.  “It is important to remember that the forest is more than the trees.  It is a whole biosystem, with countless life-forms, all of which form a community of life.”[1] 

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[1] At Home in the Web of Life, pages 86-87