CALLING FOR SUBMISSIONS
We all have a Tree Tale. Visiting the local park with Mom, and meeting friends to climb the weirdest tree together. Playing football on the playing fields with Dad, picking flowers to make daisy chains. Maybe even barbecuing in a community green-space with all the family… The list is endless, and we want to add yours.
We’re calling for submissions for Tree Tales! They will be archived on our website, a compilation of individual or group stories about nature and green spaces for a collective anthology. We want to know how you have been touched by nature. Why is it important to you? What’s your favourite memory with trees?
Memories of Nature
There are over 600 green-spaces in our city, with 1.1 million people from hundreds of different nationalities. We want to learn about your unique experiences that make life special, without realising, because nature is always there. We can come together through our shared experience of our surroundings, creating diverse and community-driven encounters that will bring people together.
BTP wrote many new tales this year to add to our collection, but we want to know what YOUR favourite recollection of nature is, because our urban parks and green-spaces are pockets of well-being just waiting to be dipped into. Tell us your nature memory, send us your favourite images, and highlight what you hope to see more of in the future, so we can capture the essence of how residents truly feel about their environment.
So… Tell us your Tree Tales!
Birmingham TreePeople spent 2023 working with many different partner organisations, for various projects, all in the name of raising awareness of tree benefits and getting more trees in the ground. Underneath the overarching canopy of tree-related events, boiling down to the individual, we all have a relationship with nature. We want to hear your tale, and how you connect with nature.
You can submit your Tree Tale in any way you like; you can write a poem, a short story, a single sentence. Feel free to include more than one photo if it helps you tell your story, or you could even submit a video for those who aren’t camera-shy.
Here is an example of a written submission:
Weeping Willow
When I was growing up, being an only child, I spent many magical hours tracing every corner of the garden. I’d collect unusual rocks, colourful insects, leaves, small fistfuls of soil, anything that caught my youthful eye, and use the large stone pot outside to make ‘a witch’s potion’ (hopefully not with the insects, but I know I ate seven ladybirds at one point, as I was clearly an overly curious child who learned with their mouth).
My dad is an arborist, so I’ve always had a close connection with green spaces. I grew up in a quaint bungalow adjacent to a large playing field, where halfway up, on the left-hand side, there was and still is a beautiful, nodding willow tree on the edge of the embankment. I’ve climbed and fallen out of that tree enough times over the years to lose count, and I remember swinging my stubby legs over the broken bottom branch to get into the tree (awkwardly, hence the falling), singing from the top branch, sharing secrets with my friends over drinks.
This drooping, weeping willow tree has, and always will be, a special memory, and a part of my story, my growing up and experiencing the world (no trees were tasted during this time). It reminds me of my family, my old friends, and show me that when life changes, the willow still stands there with my memories inside.
Charlotte (Charley) McDermott, BTP Communications Officer
Tree Tales: Memories of Nature Anthology
In November 2021
By Ruth Tetlow
In November 2021 I was unwell, and the diagnosis was acute myeloid leukaemia, so things were not looking good for the future. As I lay in bed, looking out at our large wooded garden, I realised I might not have the energy to look after it in future, so decided to make it into a native woodland instead of growing fruit and vegetables.
I ordered 10 native whips from The Woodland Trust, and invited all our family to come and plant one each. On a cold winter’s day in January 2022, our son Daniel arrived from Germany, with his partner and 2 young daughters, and our daughter Rachel came with her partner and 2 sons. I wasn’t fit enough to join in, but watched from the bedroom window as they dug holes, and each planted a young tree. It was chilly and muddy, but they had fun. We have a hazel, a blackthorn, a dog rose, a rowan, a field maple, and five other native woodland trees.
Now all the trees are growing well, with our younger granddaughter, Alma, being delighted that her rowan is the tallest! And the good news is that my leukaemia is in recession, so I am able to keep an eye on the trees, and continue to tend our garden around them.
My Journey into Trees
By Deanne Brettle
My journey into trees ramped up in awe and wonder when I trained as a Forest School Leader, learning about tree biology, woodland management, and seeing the positive impact that spending time in nature has on young children (and myself). More than anything though, as a Forest School leader, you have the pleasure of experiencing all the seasonal changes, as well as changes over the years. Lucky me! Whilst I no longer do Forest School now, I have taken to regular walks through the same woodlands, with my dog Pippa.
My favourite tree… difficult… I’ll settle for a weeping willow, as I have fond memories of picnicking beneath one, and enjoying the sounds of the branches as they swayed gently in the wind.
My Favourite Tree: What can The Dragon Trees tell us about Community Urban Forestry? Part 1
By Ian McDermott
Well, to be botanically accurate, it’s an asparagus, but let’s not split hairs. According to Justice Lord Denning, a tree is defined as “anything one might ordinarily call a tree”, and that will do for me. So, the Great Dragon Tree of Icod de los Vinos (Drago de Icod de los Vinos) on Tenerife is a magnificent thing indeed, worthy of its fame, and of course I discovered it whilst on holiday (it’s what TreePeople do on holiday – look for trees).
Purported to be the oldest specimen of Dracaena draco in the world at an estimated 1,000 years, not much by the standard of some of our yews in the UK, and nothing compared to Redwoods etc. but an impressive feat for a vegetable.
The species is fabled to have sprung from the blood of the dragon guarding the apples of Hesperides, in the Homerian legend about the labours of Heracles, after it was slain by the eponymous hero. The blood of the dragon ran down the hillside and from it sprang these trees. I don’t think the Spanish are claiming this is one of the originals, but nevertheless a great story about the origin.
This specimen is D draco and there are many varieties of dragon tree in the world, including D cinnabari (Dragon’s blood tree) named after its bright red sap, which is used for staining expensive violins (there is one in the Birmingham Botanic Gardens). However, this is not my exact tree pick!
About 200m from the great dragon tree is another, Drago de San Antonio. This tree is equally as old, but not as famous, as it has a whole other story. The tree is equivalent in size to it famous sibling, but it is a miracle that it is so. Had it been a true tree it would probably not have survived its tortuous past, but its biology (monocotyledon) has helped it function.
This is a colloquial recanting from a conversation with a local bar owner, as very little is written down about this event, but it is evident from the big wedge cut out at the base of the tree (and filled with concrete) that there was a felling attempt. At some point (unclear when), a neighbour was looking to develop the land on which the tree stands, and decided to take a chain saw to it, hardly a unique story across our beleaguered planet.
Seems the townsfolk rallied immediately, set about the perpetrator, and stopped the act of arborcide. However, significant damage was done before the intervention, and this is where the story grabbed my attention. In the UK, the safety police would have made the decision that tree should be felled, but not here. A very elaborate rescue package was established, involving some big stanchions, cables, collars, bolts, braces etc. to enable the tree to be stabilised and remain standing.
One of the unexpected benefits of the vandalism has been the huge increase in associated wildlife. With a huge wound and decay at the base, along with lots of cavities, the opportunity for colonisation by various animals is obvious, but the number of lizards in this tree is in stark contrast to its relatively healthy nearby rock star tree.
It’s a massive undertaking by the municipality and clearly an expensive tree to maintain. This speaks to the human spirit that drives this endeavour: no one will countenance the removal of such an iconic tree, a lesson I have carried with me for decades. Well done citizens of Icod, your endeavours are appreciated by this particular TreePerson.
El Drago de San Antonio: What the Dragon Trees tell us about Community Urban Forestry, Part 2
By Charlotte McDermott
Drago Milenario, or El Drago de Icod de los Vinos, is usually the first dragon tree in mind when considering the species located on the Canary Islands, Tenerife. This is due to the protected tree, located within a botanical garden, Parque del Drago, being the oldest and largest specimen of dragon tree at an estimated 1,000 years old. An icon and symbol of Tenerife and its antiquity, Milenario has been a national monument since 1917, solidifying the ancient species’ place in Canarian history.
As detailed in the previous article, there is another dragon tree close-by to Drago Milenario that goes relatively unnoticed by casual tourists, which has a far more colourful and combative past than its neighbouring Drago. The community of Icod de los Vinos rallied together to fight against a felling attempt of Drago de San Antonio over twenty years ago, leading to the concreting and bracing to keep it standing. In 2022, the tree survived another vandalism attempt, this time by fire, where the community was once again in an uproar, deeply offended by the offence against the culture of the island and its nature.
This picture shows some of the fire damage from another vandalism attempt on the San Antonio dragon tree, but the community once again fought back and saved the tree.
Visiting the site over two decades later proved the will of the people. Despite the traces of burning, larger concreted areas to fill and support cavities, marks where the old brace once sat above the new brace replacement, and the security cameras around the vicinity displays that the residents are serious about protecting what has always belonged there. The community in Icod have truly respected the ancient culture and nature of the island they inhabit, and fought for it with all their might, saving an 800+ year-old tree, and continuing to do so year-upon-year.
In 2018, the tree was routinely surveyed and found to be 16m tall, which is only reportedly one meter smaller than the main sacred tree the original Guanch inhabitants worshipped. This specific tree was lost during a storm in the 1800’s, but the trees that survive are being guarded by the strong-willed citizens, despite all attempts against the San Antonio dragon tree. The most up-to-date measurement is currently 18m, exceeding the one deified in ancient times.
Additionally, the species is being grown all over the island, such as the Botanical Gardens at the Pyramids of Güímar; purportedly ancient step-pyramids (with a burial cave beneath the main temple) and surrounding complex, belonging to the Guanches who initially settled on The Canaries.
They found this island, with these trees, and knew they were special: the dragon trees have been here longer than us, and if the community stays as strong as it is now, and was in the distant past, the dragon trees will be here longer than us.
My Favourite Tree
By Steve Watson
My favourite tree does not exist. Yet.
Of course, I do have a present favourite but I’m talking about the future!
Nature is prolific and it does not actually need me to contribute to its fecundity. Judging by the sheer number of emerging sycamore seedlings in my lawn that are only to be cruelly cut down by the swirling blade, my miniscule contribution to the tree population is wholly unnecessary.
But it is a learning process. Understand more; appreciate the genius of diverse reproduction strategies; the nurturing of the seed to give that one in a million chance of survival; a chance. I am going to play with nuts. Specifically oak acorns.
I have a toy. It was a great expense, from an up-market garden shop. It is see-through. I can observe the growth of my nut. One day it might become my favourite tree.
Instructions to be followed. I wrap my nuts in damp kitchen paper, enclose in a plastic bag, place in the dark.
I Peep every now and again until a root emerges and grows to a short length.
I transfer MY little baby to the toy, a conical jar with a nut sized mini bowl at the top. No soil, no organics, just the food the little nut has brought with itself. A supplement of occasional nutrients, but in moderation. The wonder is that my baby finds and feeds itself from the natural environment.
My nut baby grows and leaves miraculously stretch their way upwards and outwards, multiplying prolifically. The roots curl around in the water, seeking expansion. Like a proud parent I take a daily photograph for the family album. I am pleased with my arboricultural success!
The time comes to let the offspring go out into the cruel world. A new home, a starter home, joining the property ladder of survival. But my success is a dilemma. Which of my several offspring will become my favourite tree?