Talking the talk

Recently at work, I did a Picus on a veteran Ash tree on behalf of someone else's project. This was in the same week that I was talking to my boss (a high-up figure in the Arb Consultancy industry), who was proclaiming enthusiastically that he'd been talking to some other equally high-up consultant about the necessity to preserve veteran trees at the recent Arb Association conference. The Picus revealed about 50% hollowing from a major limb loss, so I recommended gradual reduction works, phased over a period of years.

The project was a development one, so I called the client just to explain what I had found. I was told this was a big problem, because the tree 'needed' to go to build a road into a new housing development. It appears that this road apparently over-ruled a 200 year old living organism. Anyway, I passed the buck, saying that I just did the Picus, those were my recommendations, but its not my project.

I then saw - by chance - an e-mail from my boss to these developers, saying that whilst the Picus couldn't be used to immediately justify felling for safety purposes, it could be used to indicate 'limited long-term usefulness' and so could justify removal for development. As a reminder, this is the same boss who stood there at an industry conference extolling the virtues of veteran trees. This is the same person who puts up, on linkedin and twitter and the like, endless posts about the importance of trees and the need to preserve them.

Now I hear that the council - rightly - put TPOs on the trees, and my company are supporting an objection to the TPOs.

This illustrates a massive flaw in the arb industry. Everyone talks the talk, claims to be an environmentalist, turns up at industry conferences and give speeches about how we must do more to protect our trees, integrate them into urban environments, "green the cities". But, when it comes to clients telling us what to do in light of their development (in itself, making a mockery of the British Standard for development in relation to trees), all that green-talk goes out of the window. No-one has a backbone to stand by their proclamations. I don't know if that's because people don't really believe it, or if (as I suspect) people are too scared of losing business to someone who will compromise.

If it's the latter case, then what the industry needs, as a whole, is to tighten up its ethical code. If you don't bend to a client's will, of course they're going to go to someone who will - and, since everyone is playing the game, there is always someone. However, if arboricultural consultants care about trees half as much as they publicise that they do, then if the industry united, tightened up, and advised, honestly and independently, instead of doing what clients tell them to do - then developers aren't going to go anywhere else, because every consultant will say it as it is, not what clients want. Then, the industry will truly be doing what it pretends at the moment to be doing - properly advising and caring for trees. 

Perhaps this needs the help of tree officers; at the end of the day, tree officers are all too often suspicious of consultants' motives (not without reason), whereas really we should all work together for the sake of what we (claim to?) believe in. Consultants advise, out of belief and passion for tree preservation; tree officers support it, through enforcement; and developers can't get what they want, when they want. Any consultants who do bend to the whim of their clients are quickly caught out by local authorities.

Sadly though, it will take some brave (and honest) people to stand up for what they believe in, in the face of losing business. However, if the industry is going to pat itself on the back and talk the environmental talk, then everyone should really start walking the walk - together.

A civilised society

Civilisation.

Where forests - carbon sinks, oxygen sources, habitat, water regulation, firewood, medicinal plants, huge biodiversity - are felled in huge swarths to provide bare land for building, or growing crops or animal feed.

Where we've "moved on" from eating edible plants to selecting vast monocultures of crops to grow. Where the soils have been depleted and natural resistance eroded, so we apply sticking plasters of toxic fertilisers and pesticides to prop it up for one extra season at a time. Where the natural balance of variation, and its benefits not only for biodiversity but also for food production, are ignored.

Where, to grow our crops, we remove trees that would provide alternative food sources, shade, natural soil binding and nutrients, and firewood for fuel. Where our soil, now empty and near-lifeless, washes into rivers.

Where we want driveways for our cars, or paved areas so we don't have to cut the grass, and so we pave over the soil. We cover the ground, and then bemoan the flooding that ensues. The flooding that is already worsened by the removal of riparian woodlands, and of wetlands that should be slowing the water rushing down the rivers.

Where conservation of the natural world, and all that it gives, has to fit in with the economy. Where we should be grateful for people "compromising", and leaving a bit of greenery whilst the rest is destroyed in pursuit of profit.

Where the belief is that everyone makes money and everyone's happy. Everyone can buy bigger houses, more material goods, flasher cars, and no-one loses. Well, only those people in sweatshops making the material goods. Only the environment, resources plundered to produce raw materials for goods. But that's irrelevant, as long as the money keeps flooding in.

Where its more important to 'fix the economy' and push the green agenda down in importance - it's all good to make vague promises about carbon reductions, but that's second place to making more money. All hail this artificial construct of the economy, of the stock market, of "the markets" that seem to rule all of human society. They're not even real, yet we worship them above all else.

Where we drive to work, drive home, shop at supermarkets, eat food of questionable origin, whilst we forget about who lives around us. Where we know more about what goes on in social media than we do about our neighbours' lives. We forget that our meat was once an animal, often maltreated and suffering before being slaughtered just for us.

Where we turn a blind eye to everything collapsing around us, and carry on as normal - make money, consume, repeat. Where we ignore the warning bells of a world pushed to the limit by our selfish, greed-driven behaviour.

Where corporations - businesses, mere businesses - now have the power to sue entire countries if they won't allow resource exploitation on their land

Sometimes it's hard to feel positive about 'civilisation'. I feel like we've taken a wrong turning somewhere.

BCEP in the woods

An environmental charity that my friend works for have recently taken over management of an urban woodland in Bradford, and he asked me if I'd be willing to do a bit of volunteering to help with the practical side of the woodland management. I must admit to missing the sunny days out in the woods and so happily said yes. So far, I've spent a couple of days there this summer, carving a fallen sycamore into a play feature for children and thinning out some dense sycamore over the footpath, to make it less gloomy and foreboding.

Partway through, with "steps up"
made along one co-dominant stem

  

A probable factor in the tree falling?
Dryad Saddle fruiting on the stump

Criss-cross cuts to make it less slippery

The finished piece...

Also spent a while thinning an area dominated by birch, where the charity hope to create a forest schools area for local pupils.

Before...

...after

In a geeky way, I find something so
aesthetically pleasing about birch logs!

There's still work to be done, and more thinning, but it's a nice project to be involved in and a way to hopefully utilise a slightly neglected and overlooked woodland.

New discoveries

A handful of more unusual trees that I've seen over the past wee while, mostly from Sheffield Botanic Gardens.

Cyprus cedar (Cedrus brevifolia) - a bit like an Atlas cedar, but with super small needles:

A strawberry tree (Arbutus unedo) - after seeing this, I recognised another on the same street as my girlfriend's house:

 A purple-leaved variety of Katsura (Cercidophyllum japonicum), one of my favourite trees due to its lovely, caramel smell in autumn. I think the variety may be 'Red Fox'?

Styrax japonicum - a snowdrop tree:

Whilst it is a native tree, I don't think I've ever seen a wild service tree (Sorbus torminalis) outside of collections. The craggy, patchwork brown and grey bark is lovely.

And, from Paignton Zoo in Devon, a cork oak (Quercus suber):

Finally, mulberry trees (Morus nigra) must be like buses - been looking for ages, and then have seen three this year. Even ran around one of them.

A walk in the woods

Walking along Slades Road, the first footpath sign seems to point into someone's garden; a neat metal fence, with cars parked beyond it. The footpath further along is blocked by curious cows, so it's back to the first and cutting through someone's drive, feeling guilty even despite the Public Footpath fingerpost.

Past the stables and recent balsam clearance, and now I'm into Heath House Woods. Well, above it. The recent rain has freshened everything up, and this path cuts along the upper edge, bordered by young oaks, Sorbus, hawthorn, and other edge species. A first swig of Bowmore here (unashamedly inspired by Robert Macfarlane's whisky-fuelled strolls), whilst looking out above the woodland canopy of oaks that carpet the valley. It looks almost as though you could walk across to Heath House on top of these crowns.

Walk a bit further, and I come to a gated junction. To the left, back to Colne Valley. The cheers and shouts of a crowd as someone far away in Brazil scores, or doesn't score, reinforces the decision to turn right and head further into the woods. A little way in and a trail heads off steeply downhill, too tempting to ignore. Here, the oaks are contorted, squat and buckled, but no less lovely than those larger, open-grown trees you might see in a hedgerow.

A magpie flies through the canopy. One for sorrow. The grasses and brambles are laden with cuckoo spit, I don't know if I've ever seen more in one spot. Finally, another magpie joins the first. Two for joy - a far more optimistic prospect. A roaring in the distance sounds like a waterfall, although it is just as likely to be a mill or even some machinery somewhere. However, the babbling of a beck at the bottom of the slope is unmistakable, and so I head down. On the way, wonder about the wood's history. Planted, or a remnant of what used to be? Worked, and by whom, and why? And does that even matter, or should we just enjoy wondering in woods, rather than analyse them? 

A tyre swing and further tyres making up stepping stones by no means detract from the strength of the oak on the opposite bank, which must have stood sentinel by the beck for a century at least. However, as well intentioned as the tyres may be, they still remind of the uncomfortable proximity of the town to the left. So across the burn a turn right, heading up past a decaying log. The tree must have fallen naturally, but the clean cuts and branch stubs show that at least once someone has been in here with a saw.

Following the beck upstream, it forks into two. Each of the gulleys along which it heads are lush and green; it might not be as vast, stirring, symbolic or emotive as the Amazon, but these oak woodlands are our temperate rainforests. And the lichens on branches, the fungi and ground fauna, the birds calling still demonstrate the diversity of these woods. A jay flits across the beck and alights on a branch, silhouetted and quieter than its rowdier, black and white cousins. 

I cross back over the beck and head upwards, slipping on the wet mud, finally reaching a defined path cutting across perpendicular. A squat oak here offers two nice boughs for a seat and so I sit for a while, taking a few swigs and enjoying the sound of water, whilst admiring the fresh pink on newly flushed epicormic growths.

Further on, I come to a bridge crossed on a previous stroll, and realise that this path leads out, eventually, to the cows. So an about turn, and taking a left fork that eventually leads out to a more widely spaced area. I've been here before, taking a seat in an oak in the sun and whimsically fantasising about building a hut here, leaving civilisation as we know it to live in the woods. I had begun to plan it out - planting edible plants, thinking of water sources - a beautiful distraction from our everyday lives.

Back up to that gated junction, following the track out to find a large house and grounds. Someone with the money to buy a lovely patch of land, but without the sense to take only what they need from it. It's hard to ignore the urge to head back now, back into the woods. and so that's what I do; picking up that original path out. Halfway along, a small track leads down, again too intriguing not to followed. It ends up leading out to an oak begging to be climbed; dropping towards it, and it become apparent this is the top of my imagined woodland settlement. Oh, well. Climb the tree, a couple more swigs, listen to chaffinches piping alarm. Savour the greenery, the stillness, the simplicity. Then back out to the path, to someone's garden, and finally to tarmac once more.

Ulterior motives, realised

Having done the Picus test on the beech tree I blogged about below, and submitted a report recommending a 20% crown reduction, cable bracing and rhizosphere improvement, I felt like I had done the best for that tree. I know the clients weren’t happy with it, thanks to the phone call from the developer (!) acting on their behalf, but felt that I had proved the tree could be retained and made safe.

However, things change. The wife living at the house called me up. First argument – that Ganoderma could be putting out spores attacking all the trees in their garden, including another big beech recently pruned. I explained how, as soon as a cut is made, hundreds of spores of all kinds of organisms will be landing on that wood; removing this beech and its Ganoderma will not stop infection. Her second line of attack rattled me more – an emotionally manipulative argument, discussing the tree falling on her and/or her family, killing her children. She had ‘found out’ that I would be liable for such actions, if the tree failed after I made my recommendations.

Although I knew this, and told her as much, I still went away that night worrying. What if I have made the wrong decision? What if it does fail, and I’m in court faced with negligence or manslaughter? However, I managed to settle myself down – other, experienced consultants proof-read my report and looked at the Picus results, and reached the same conclusion I had.

I naively hoped that would be it – if they did the work I recommended then their fears for safety would be alleviated.

Apparently not, since it was the husband’s turn last night. He gave me all kinds of bulls**t. They can’t insure for their house, given that cable bracing “is using giant bungees to hold a limb up when it fails”. No, it’s not; it reduces loading on a potential weak point, to prevent failure. Their neighbours are signing a petition to fell the tree because he’s been scaremongering about how dangerous it is. Did he tell them that my report had made recommendations that would reduce risk to an acceptable level? It’s got no long-term future, felling it would be euthanasia. Sorry, but no. Euthanasia is mercy killing; the tree is not suffering, the problem’s with him perceiving it to be in the way.

And, the closest he admitted to wanting it out the way for reasons other than safety – he’s spending £40,000 re-landscaping his garden, and doesn’t want that trashed “in a year’s time” by “a crane coming in” to fell the tree. Firstly – the tree could last far longer than a year. And secondly, well, there’s the reason for wanting rid – a tree with 150cm dbh has the maximum root protection area of 15m, that’s a big area on which our poor client can’t alter levels or put in garish garden features.

So, this morning, I sent a very considered and careful e-mail, putting in writing about what “an acceptable level of risk” means, about how cable bracing works, about the relative strength of Ganoderma (quoting an excerpt from Lonsdale’s Principles of Tree Hazard Assessment and Management, on how trees can sit with this fungus for many years without compromising safety). I reiterated the tree’s benefits – amenity and historic value, wildlife benefits, pollution attenuation, evaporative cooling, shading, and reducing waterlogging in his precious garden. I also explained the council see all these positives, as demonstrated by the protective order.

His response? They’re applying to fell the tree, “because it is dangerous”. They’ve hired an Arb Association approved consultant (what, like the company I work for?) to “review” my report and support felling the tree.

I don’t know whether I am more angry or upset. I had a tear in my eye. Firstly – I’ve failed trying to save a significant, majestic, wonderful being that can easily be made safe but kept. It’s down to the tree officer now, who (if these guys are as underhand as I suspect) may never see my report. I hope their new consultant recommends my work; but what if they care less about morals and integrity, and support the felling. I’ve tried, really bloody tried, to help save a being far older than any of us involved – and failed.

I honestly get upset about this kind of thing. Trees aren't inanimate objects in our landscape; they are living, respiring, growing organisms. The ecosystem services they provide far outweigh the minor ways in which we, as humans, should be altering our lifestyles to co-exist with them. This tree was at least 150 years old, possibly more. There is no way, morally, killing it can be justified when with some sympathetic treatment it could live for decades longer. It is truly heartbreaking to think that this tree could soon be felled - killed - because of selfish and greedy owners of the land on which it stands.

Secondly – I’m angry. Bitterly angry. Angry about the emotional manipulation to try and sway my decision. Angry about these ill-informed, greedy homeowners ignoring my advice because it’s not what they wanted – even though it was for the good of the tree, good of the environment, and even would have benefitted their property. Angry that they want to undermine my findings because I was too professional to side with them on this. Angry that they own a beautiful house made even better by a beautiful beech tree – I cannot overstate how significant it is. If you don’t like trees, don’t buy the house with them; go live with your sterile strip of lawn, and fancy landscaped features. I’d happily live under that tree, Ganoderma and all.

Another case of money being more important than anything else – and my crushing realisation that I can do nothing about it. Is this what consultancy is going to be like?

Professional mendacity

One small job that I've done in consultancy has weighed heavily on my mind. It was one where I had to completely detach the professional me - arboricultural consultant - from the personal me - environmentalist. Whilst I've expressed in this blog (and still continue to feel) discomfort with being involved in the development side of arboriculture, I have so far never been asked to directly alter my opinion to suit a client. In fact, I probably rate trees highly in terms of retention; I will give out retention category 'A' or 'B' quite readily to trees that I feel couldn't be easily replaced. If I ever did get a client asking me to downgrade a tree so that they could get it out of the way, I would point-blank refuse. I don't care if they pay my wages or not - that is against my morals.

However, with that in mind... I was put in a tricky situation by one client.

It was a development in a pretty, rural village. Other development had been proposed in the vicinity, which led to the usual response from the local authority of putting Tree Preservation Orders (TPOs) on local, significant trees, including ones on the site my client wanted to develop. Now, according to them, they weren't informed of the new TPOs and found out through the grapevine. This seemed to have really riled the developer and so, as well as wanting the usual BS5837 survey, they also instructed me to object to one particular TPO before the deadline for objections ran out.

This tree was in the way of the proposed access to the new development; the developer obviously saw that having a protected tree there meant that they would have to spend more money redesigning the project and creating new access areas, instead of widening the existing one (requiring the removal of this tree). So, when they found out it had been protected, and their first plan was now scuppered, they wanted me to object to the TPO to make it easier for them to remove the tree and keep costs and effort down.

I went and had a look at the tree. A lovely mature copper beech, prominent and so with high amenity. Good vigour. It has to be admitted, however, that the rooting area wasn't great, being situated as it was on a driveway, with a lane to one side and a retaining wall directly next to it. I also found a slight weeping lesion with what could be the beginnings of Kretzschmaria deusta crusts forming.

And so, I called the client. I explained that the tree was visually significant and appeared healthy and so, frankly, if I was a tree officer I would have protected it. I explained that there were some possible defects, but only worthy of monitoring at this stage. I also told them that, in my opinion, a TPO would be upheld until any defects were confirmed.

The client, however, still had issues with the way that the council had supposedly not told them about the TPO. I suggested writing a formal complaint to the council regarding this. Apparently the client had done that already, but to make sure that the LPA were aware of their annoyance, they wanted to formally object too. As a last ditch attempt, I informed the client that they would be provoking the authority that would, eventually, decide whether or not to grant planning permission; that I would have to charge for time spent objecting; and that it was unlikely to be successful. They still asked me to go ahead.

So, I did it. I spent some time writing a carefully worded letter explaining that I was objecting to the TPO on behalf of the client, due to diminished longevity of the tree. And I hated it. Although I got colleagues to read through it to make sure that, reading between the lines, it was obvious that I was doing this on behalf of the client, I still felt uncomfortable with it. That letter is a public document, visible on the internet, with my name on the bottom saying that I object to a tree being protected on some pretty circumstantial grounds. That is my reputation with the local authority on the line, and in the long run I will have one or two dealings with this client, whereas I need a good and long-lasting working relationship with the tree officers in the local area.

All this has been brought back into my mind by an article on Horticulture Weekly, about an application to fell a 300 year old oak tree just because of subsidence to a garage. Luckily, it has been rejected, but right there in the article is the name of the arboricultural consultant writing the application and appeal. How would I feel if my name was printed in an article about an objection to protecting trees, just because it made a development easier?

I am still upset about jeopardising my professional reputation for the sake of some client wanting to make their development a little bit more straight forward, and because the client wanted to throw their toys out of the pram because of the apparent lack of notification of the TPO. Did I do the right thing writing that objection? Did I manage to detach myself enough from their motives, and simply be a vector for their objection as opposed to being actually 'on their side'? Am I right to do what the client asks, since they pay my wage? I don't know. I didn't downgrade a tree; I didn't make up problems to make the objection more reasonable, I just stated the facts. However, it's my name at the bottom of the letter saying that a tree of stature shouldn't be protected, all for the sake of a client's laziness at designing development, and annoyance with the council. I must admit to hoping that the objection is rejected.

Ulterior motives

One aspect that quickly becomes apparent in the private sector is that things aren't always what they seem... take a job I did last week. On the face of it, the kind of job I love doing.

A beautiful, mature beech tree in a garden. 25m tall and 150dbh, it was a lovely, open grown specimen, forking into two co-dominant stems at about 2m high. However, one stem (closest to the house in question) had a long-standing Ganoderma bracket on it - I counted at least 8 years of growth on it.

We had been asked, on behalf of the homeowners, to do decay detection tests to see how bad the fungal activity is. A bit of research revealed that the tree is protected and there had been an application to remove it, refused by the tree officer, who wanted to see how bad the decay was before agreeing to such action. Hence my involvement.

The actual survey itself was good fun; I always get a kick out of doing Picus tests and seeing what the interior of the tree looks like. Decay in the stem was nearly at the 70% t/r ratio, where most trees show a significantly increased risk of failure. A test below the bracket showed less extensive decay, but worryingly, getting closer to the included bark at the stem union. So the recommendations - a crown reduction to take the weight off the decayed stem, coupled with cable bracing to reinforce the already vulnerable stem union given that decay seemed to be entering that area. A Picus at the base revealed some minor decay in the centre, possibly having spread down; so, as an added recommendation, soil decompaction and mulching could give the tree more of a fighting chance at compartmentalising the decay.

However, when we first arrived, the husband at the property made no bones about wanting its removal, claiming his family were scared of the tree failing. He made out that his wife really wanted the tree gone - so having completed the tests, and telling the wife that I thought the tree could be made safe and kept, her relief seemed a bit at odds with her husband's account of how she felt. Hmmm.

So I wrote up the report and made recommendations, and was duly contacted by our instructing client (on behalf of the homeowners) who, as it turned out, worked for... a development agency. I gladly told her that yes, the tree needed work, but it could be kept. The desired outcome, or so I thought. The client had other ideas, informing me that, really, they want the tree felled. "It's dangerous." Well, erm, not if you carry out the work I've recommended... "It's never going to get better though, is it?" Well, would that be a suitable excuse for an ill human? No, it's never going to 'heal' - it's a mature Beech at least 150 years old, by my reckoning - but given the right treatment it could go on longer, whilst being made safe to decline on its terms.

Luckily, I played the professional advice card, suppressing my "save the trees" tendencies and instead arguing that, if I recommended a fell, the tree officer would take a look at the decay detection results and reach the conclusion that I reached - yes, work needs done, but the tree can be retained. So it was a waste of their money asking me to recommend a fell, because the tree officer would throw any report like that out of the window.

However, it left me quite angry. A development company... Who are they kidding? They wanted rid of the tree so that the property owners could develop there. They were looking for any reason why that tree could be felled. Quite a relief that the council were on the ball and had TPO'd it. It's a lack of respect; we don't "own" trees, to remove at our whim when we feel money can be made. A tree that old will have seen the days when it was horse and cart passing by the road, not cars driving by. It will have seen countless inhabitants of that property, and could see more if given sympathetic treatment. Yes, it is in the autumn of its years - but for a tree that old, the autumn could last rather a long time. 

So show some respect for living beings of that stature. Realise how lucky you are to have such a magnificent tree in your garden. Think about the air pollution attenuation, the shading, evaporative cooling, water table regulation and carbon storage that tree is providing. And, lastly, put your cards on the table - don't pretend that the tree needs felling because it is dangerous, when actually it's in the way of your development and you don't see how important keeping trees like that are. It was astonishing that they even tried to be so underhand, and I'm just glad that the local authority were so aware and decisive; hopefully, this particular beech will see many more years to come.

Coexistence

Every so often, in any job, a day or a project comes along that reminds you why you do what you do.

I recently got asked to look at one tree, an ash on the edge of an urban woodland. To one side, a footpath and a nursery... not exactly low targets. The tree had been down for a fell, until an ecologist poked around the many cavities and noticed an owl sat inside. Hence the call to our company, to see if we could do anything to retain the tree as habitat whilst making it safe.

The tree was in a pretty bad way, as you'd expect for one that was condemned. It had open cavities all the way up the stem, and most likely a column of decay joining these all up. Cankers had caused further structural damage to the scaffold limbs. 

But luckily, the tree was leaning significantly into the woods and away from the nearby targets. So that was a start.

The solution, or so I feel, is to accentuate the tree's lean into the woods by reducing the more vertical limbs in the crown. I recommended this be done by fracture pruning or coronet cuts, to give the tree that ragged look it would have if limbs were shed naturally; it will also expose more wood at the wound areas, providing niches and habitats. Since the tree is obviously on its way out anyway, I don't feel like this rather rough treatment will be of massive detriment to it's health.

By reducing the limbs this way, it brings them more in line with the canopy height of surrounding, younger trees, reducing the chance of any wind blowing over the woods towards the targets catching them and causing failure of the scaffold limbs - which could, in theory, impact the path. By accentuating the lean, and thus weighting the tree even more so into the woods, I think failure on the stem or at the base will result in the tree falling away from targets.

Hopefully, this will allow the tree to remain standing, providing habitat for all its inhabitants and dependents, whilst reducing the threat it poses to human lives. Just the kind of work I got into this all for.

I fought the TPO, and the TPO won

It will come as no surprise to anyone who may have read a few of my blog posts that I am firmly on the tree preservation side of the arboricultural scale. To the point of, admittedly, being biased more towards trees than humans. And generally, I think tree preservation orders (TPOs) are a good thing; in fact, you could argue that they don't go far enough, and that all trees should have statutory protection.

But today, for once, I visited a site and found myself supporting the client's point of view. He wanted to renovate a stable and use the surrounding small patch of land as a paddock. Surrounding the site's border were mature sycamore, ash and horse chestnut, which the client appreciated and seemed keen to keep. However, within the middle of the site were early mature, scrappy sycamores. Squirrel damage had left them looking rough; they were all slender, with high crowns containing a significant proportion of deadwood. There were basal wounds, presumably from a vertebrate of some description, exposing the inner wood.

The client had approached the council, asking he could remove these. He offered to replant native woodland species on site. But, he was told that he would have to plant 3 for 1 to replace the trees, due to the TPO on site. Now, I can see why the mature trees were TPO'd. But the self-set, poor quality sycamores? Really?

Sadly, the side of the story I got (and, admittedly, it was only one side) was that the Local Authority refused to budge. Surely, instead of issuing a blanket TPO and advice, they should have realised that this man is trying to improve his patch of land, by planted a varied and native mix of trees; but because he wants to remove poor specimens first, this isn't enough. For once, I support someone who wants to remove trees, because ultimately he wants to improve the overall treescape on this plot of land. Instead, legislation designed to protect trees, and so implicitly improve our environment, seems to be preventing this from happening. I'm not arguing that TPOs are wrong - far from it. But I just see it as ironic, and frustrating, that in this instance, a TPO is being used to prevent someone improving the tree stock on their land; blindly following protocol has led to a rebuttal of someone's good intentions.

Jumping the gun

I had a tricky and thought provoking pre-development survey site visit today. The brief was, simply, to visit a site and assess tree cover in light of a potential planned development; the client wants an idea of whether or not the amount of trees he wants to fell will cause an issue with the council, and hold up or throw his development out of the window.

This client made the error - sadly, an all too common error - of coming to us with a proposed plan already. Now, in theory, you decide to develop a plot of land, and you get all the relevant surveys done - including our arboricultural one - and identify constraints. So, arb-wise, we might say "you have trees x, y and z that can be felled to make space". Then, you design a proposed plan, and have an impact assessment done - "well, the impacts are that you might compromise tree a, but trees b and c will be unaffected". You then re-design or tweak your plans until it satisfies all involved, and then submit it. In short, you build around what's there.

This client gave us an exact plan of his housing development, helpfully doing our job for us by telling us exactly what trees he'll keep and what he'll get rid of. Then, can we go see if it'll pass planning? Based on what we say, he'll maybe ask for a tree survey to identify what constraints there are, and then - oh, wait. Got confused here. You don't really care what the constraints are, because you've already decided what you're building and where.

Sadly, this happens more often than not. I am finding more and more that, with development surveys, we have to write to the tree officer more than the client - finding a way of saying, subtly, "this client wants to remove these trees. I think they are worth retaining. Please can you make sure they retain them as part of planning permission." However, since we are hired by the client, we have to sneak this request to make their life harder for them past their noses. But try we must, because many clients already know what and how they want to build, and merely use us to satisfy planning application requirements. And so we tell the tree officer that their plan impacts trees that shouldn't be impacted, because the clients don't want to listen.

On this plan today, very few trees on the site were retained. And yet, on site, there was significant tree cover, including a fair number of impressive beech and oak that, in my opinion, were undoubtedly retention category 'A'. Now, if our client had bothered to do things properly, we would have told him this and he could have thought careful about his design, retaining impressive trees that would enhance his housing development. It's not enough to vaguely indicate planting and landscaping - yes, the next generation of trees is important, but using them to justify felling mature trees is equivalent to thinking it's perfectly acceptable to kill someone's dog as long as you buy them a puppy.

Deciding that you're going to go ahead with a set development without identifying existing constraints - be they arboricultural, ecological, cultural or anything valuable - makes a mockery of the sensitive and sustainable development that should be the norm, not the exception. I already know that my advice is going to be: let us - the arboriculturalists - decide what trees should be kept. Then, design around them. Simple, really.

Feeling compromised?

Today's post finds me returning to that same old theme - development vs conservation. And whether, as a professional, I should compromise my own ethical and environmental beliefs in the light of the money that development work brings in that, ultimately, pays my wage and those of my colleagues.

Whilst, in theory, I conduct a development survey purely as a snapshot in time of what is on a site, tree-wise, before any development is planned, the actuality is that developers already have an idea of what they want. Whether it's a detailed plan of their new driveway or two houses, or just the knowledge that, somehow, they want 100 houses on that plot of land. And so, if I throw a spanner in the works by strongly advising that this tree or that group are retained, these people are unlikely to be too chuffed that their 100 houses drops to 99 houses, or that their new driveway has to be moved, and become longer, and cost them more.

In my eyes - and I realise that I am at quite far down one end of the environmental spectrum - trees (and generally flora, and fauna, and greenspace) are priceless. They cannot be costed; who has the right to say that building a house and making a profit off that is worth more than the retention of a valuable, living organism that provides shelter and food to a host of other organisms? Not to mention the mental benefits of trees for humans, and the ecosystem benefits (cooling, pollution attenuation, and so forth) the general treescape provides. How this can be weighed up and valued against profit is beyond me; in my eyes, one cannot, morally or practically, put a price on trees. 

However; I work for a private company. Our job is to work for clients; clients who, sometimes, want us to give the nod to them to remove trees. Clients who, if they get a report from me saying "sorry, but I strongly advise against building here because of this tree" may then decide not to use the company I work for, and go for someone else. Someone who may have slightly lower standards, and play the development game more readily. And so, I lose my company clients, we shrink, and livelihoods are at stake.

There's also the argument that if I push myself out of business, then I can't save the trees that really matter. If I fight so hard for retention of anything that I see valuable, then we won't be consulted in the future, and other sites with valuable trees may go to other consultants who may give the nod for chainsaws to go in. In other words, should I throw some to the wolves so I can keep fighting for those that 'truly' matter?

So far, I have refused to compromise, and I like to think I won't begin to do so. I won't downgrade a tree if I believe it is valuable and worthy of retaining. Don't get me wrong; I won't kick up a fuss about every tree I survey; so in the respect I am already, slightly, pragmatic. But that is irregardless of what plans are for a site; if a tree is of poor quality, regardless of where it is, I will say so. Likewise for those higher quality trees.

But I vehemently believe that this capitalist, profit-driven culture that economic growth and "development" (at the cost of truly sustainable resource use, environmental preservation and social economy) is completely absurd. It can only go on so long before we're up against the wall, whether you're rich or poor. And the little slice of this unjust economic system that I'm most obviously exposed to professionally is these people wanting to get richer at the cost of the environment around them (specifically, in my line of work, trees). People who see a profit on land, where I see connected habitats, hedgerows and veteran trees. People who see a plot of 200 houses, where I see an open woodland habitat. And why should money come before conservation? There is not one good reason, in my mind, that it should.

However... how long before I come under pressure to give a little? How long before I over-ride my morals for the sake of our company's reputation among these wheeling and dealing, money-driven clients? I hope I never do... but then, what if it was my job on the line? Or more importantly, those of other people? I hope I never get stuck between these two opposing forces. But the fear that I might is weighing on my mind. And the disgust at this greedy, exploitative, careless system that I am periodically exposed to leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

The Grey Men of Grey Mare's Tail

It wasn't until I read Wildwood that I became aware of the existence of Green Men - the faces of leafy men carved into wood, with paganistic meanings and variations on the theme individual to each sculptor.

http://commonground.org.uk/portfolio/trees/

At Grey Mare's Tail in Dumfries and Galloway, someone has created the stone version. The Grey Man.

I'd love to know who, and why. Probably done on commission to the Forestry Commission, as part of their recreational side of Galloway Forest Park, the romantic in me instead likes the idea of an artist who just wanted to make an unobtrusive, secret statement. To carve faces into stone, and then set them in the stone walls of ruined mining buildings, noticed only by a few people wandering through and careful enough to realise that the stones aren't quite natural. A short-lived artistic statement, like Richard Long's work; faces that gradually become weathered and lichen-clad, until no longer recognisable as any different to any other rocks.

Trees, development and destruction

And so today brought another interesting conflict between my personal and professional lives, again related to that D-word... Development.

In my personal life, a diet of Roger Deakin books and dissatisfaction with the political rage for economic growth above all else has led me to be quite opposed to much of the so-called "development" that goes on. I don't mind people building on old factory sites and that kind of disused land (although I do have an issue with the type of housing put on it... monotonous, uninspired, rubber-stamp cheap housing that encourages a non-community of commuters who don't know their neighbours. But that's a different rant.)

However, I feel strongly that greenbelt land should be preserved. Let's not let our cities expand outwards whilst the inner cites die... housing estates are built that encourage car use and discourage locality and individuality. And to achieve this, precious farmland, woodland and other habitats and destroyed - permanently - whilst plenty of vacant land lies derelict. Small villages with strong senses of community and local individuality become subsumed into ever-expanding suburbs. Green space disappears, and with it that peace of mind that it brings to those using it, as well as the wildlife dependent on it.

Professionally, the bread-and-butter of the firm I work for - like that of many arboricultural firms - are development surveys. Looking at the trees on sites to be developed, deciding which should be retained and which could be lost. Basically, aiding (if not being responsible for) the development that I feel quite squeamish about.

Today found me in old agricultural land, surveying a number of hedgerows and field boundary trees. And there were some crackers - big old ash and oaks, with the dieback typical of agricultural trees and stag-headed quality, some well on their way to veteran status. There were trees with massive cavities, big enough to stand inside. Fungi were growing on an astonishing number of them, and the number of cavities and cracks that would provide invaluable habitat for many beasties was high. And the hedgerows provided interconnectivity, wildlife corridors and shelter for numerous animals.

Whilst I can give some trees status to indicate that retention is 'desirable', and in some cases 'highly desirable', I am still ultimately aiding a process that will ruin this. A developer isn't going to build around the hedgerows and these trees. Land is money, and leaving land aside for trees that, to some eyes, appear half-dead, rotten and dangerous, seems silly. And a hedgerow - they're just scrappy trees, right? No-one will miss them. Don't worry about losing those old trees, we'll plant some nice looking trees and plants on the land.

And even if some of those trees are left, many will subsequently have to go, as the introduction of a target will mean tree surgery or removal will be necessary - and so they will lose their character, if not their life. Not that it will matter much, as the habitat which they are part of will disappear, and so will the animals that rely on them. Whereas, without a target, they can be left to do exactly what they want, become hollow, drop limbs, and act as nature intended them to do - growing, living and declining on their own terms.

The knowledge that I am part of this process that, personally, I am vehemently opposed to, makes me feel quite uncomfortable. And I can't imagine I'm alone - most people in this business are in it for the love of trees and the countryside. Do any other consultants feel uncomfortable about this?