.jpg.12439dd422b5e55f645adc9f11d94701.jpg)
Lannie Keller
-
Posts
3 -
Joined
-
Last visited
-
.thumb.jpg.52d2b597e74a8905c7f6bf97f1a19980.jpg)
BC’s Big Tree Protection: a legacy of public deception
Lannie Keller commented on Lannie Keller's record in Analysis
Dear BCForester, Our article isn’t about Old Growth deferral or how much primary forest remains in BC. However, David Broadland’s calculation shows a very large error in your statement regarding BC’s remaining primary forest. We stand by our assertion (and government stats) that show more than 97 percent of BC’s rich lower elevation forests have been logged, and that less than 3 percent of the habitats required for growing legacy trees remain intact. Our article is a criticism of the Special Tree Protection Regulation, ostensibly a project to engage the public in locating trees that merit protection. However, newly increased size requirements make it almost impossible to find trees large enough to qualify. Or, if government’s intent is (at least on the surface) to their responsibility to protect old trees, then we question the viability of single trees with minimal buffers in a clearcut landscape. These trees are bound to suffer from early morbidity, leaving a downed or crippled giant as the legacy. This project may inadvertently reveal the rarity of these ancient biological treasures, and also the importance of forest to trees. But let’s not let it be a distraction from government’s real duty to protect what little remains! Respectfully, Lannie & Johanna -
Dear BCForester, Our article isn’t about Old Growth deferral or how much primary forest remains in BC. However, David Broadland’s calculation shows a very large error in your statement regarding BC’s remaining primary forest. We stand by our assertion (and government stats) that show more than 97 percent of BC’s rich lower elevation forests have been logged, and that less than 3 percent of the habitats required for growing legacy trees remain intact. Our article is a criticism of the Special Tree Protection Regulation, ostensibly a project to engage the public in locating trees that merit protection. However, newly increased size requirements make it almost impossible to find trees large enough to qualify. Or, if government’s intent is (at least on the surface) to their responsibility to protect old trees, then we question the viability of single trees with minimal buffers in a clearcut landscape. These trees are bound to suffer from early morbidity, leaving a downed or crippled giant as the legacy. This project may inadvertently reveal the rarity of these ancient biological treasures, and also the importance of forest to trees. But let’s not let it be a distraction from government’s real duty to protect what little remains! Respectfully, Lannie & Johanna
-
BC’s Big Tree Protection: a legacy of public deception
Lannie Keller commented on Ben Parfitt's record in Journalism: Loss of primary forest
Dear BCForester, Our article isn’t about Old Growth deferral or how much primary forest remains in BC. However, David Broadland’s calculation shows a very large error in your statement regarding BC’s remaining primary forest. We stand by our assertion (and government stats) that show more than 97 percent of BC’s rich lower elevation forests have been logged, and that less than 3 percent of the habitats required for growing legacy trees remain intact. Our article is a criticism of the Special Tree Protection Regulation, ostensibly a project to engage the public in locating trees that merit protection. However, newly increased size requirements make it almost impossible to find trees large enough to qualify. Or, if government’s intent is (at least on the surface) to their responsibility to protect old trees, then we question the viability of single trees with minimal buffers in a clearcut landscape. These trees are bound to suffer from early morbidity, leaving a downed or crippled giant as the legacy. This project may inadvertently reveal the rarity of these ancient biological treasures, and also the importance of forest to trees. But let’s not let it be a distraction from government’s real duty to protect what little remains! Respectfully, Lannie & Johanna -
Lannie Keller changed their profile photo
-
Most of the magnificent trees in Cathedral Grove would not meet the strict criteria for being protected under BC’s regulations. By Johanna Paradis and Lannie Keller THE BC GOVERNMENT’S RECENT ANNOUNCEMENT of deferrals on 2.6 million hectares of forest reminds us of other commitments to protect some of the remaining big trees in the province. On the surface, the new plans sound encouraging but as with other protection proposals, the devil will be in the details. On our home islands at the top of the Strait of Georgia, the landscape is in various stages of clearcutting and recovery. In the newer cuts, the alder and salmonberry grow up and thin, revealing enormous stumps that are the dwindling evidence of what-once-was. Two hundred years ago, the Discovery Islands’ forests were very different: magnificent cathedrals of green, light and shadow, columned with massive giants of fir, cedar and hemlock. These islands have some of BC’s best growing conditions for coastal Douglas-fir. We stand in awe of our largest veterans—for example, the cedar that takes all of our elementary school students to link hands around, and the Douglas-fir mother-tree that presides over salmon-bearing waters. School children from Surge Narrows visit the White Rock Cedar on Read Island (photo by Lannie Keller) When we were looking into protection for these last big old trees in the Discovery Islands, we learned about some programs recently touted by the BC government. In January 2018, BC Timber Sales (BCTS) announced a “Coastal Legacy Tree Program” for its management areas, about 20 percent of BC’s Timber Supply Area. This voluntary option for protection was available for trees exceeding specified diameters, and offered a 56-metre buffer (about 1 hectare) surrounding the tree. At the time, the BC government (Ministry of Forests, Lands, Natural Resource Operations and Rural Development) promised additional regulation through the Forest & Range Practices Act (FRPA). They stated that, “The [BCTS] policy will be reviewed to make it stronger.” However, in September 2020, when the BC government presented its “Special Tree Protection Regulation,” they weakened the possibility of protection by increasing tree size requirements. Previously identified Coastal Legacy Trees which fell short of the new requirements lost their protection. As well, logging companies could file for a permit to cut an identified Special Tree and/or its supporting trees. It is not clear why government increased the required diameters, or who influenced those changes. We do know that the Coastal Legacy Tree minimum diameters were arbitrarily determined by dividing in half the diameters of the largest known specimens in the province, and these size requirements were upped by the forests ministry. It is noteworthy that tree diameter, as the defining criterion, entirely disregards tree age, height, growing conditions, and other characteristics. So, with BC’s new Special Tree Regulation in hand, we headed out to measure our islands’ first growth. To our dismay, we soon realized that none of the few remaining giants, nor any of the first growth stumps were big enough to qualify for provincial protection. Johanna Paradis recording trees in the Discovery Islands (photo by Lannie Keller) David Broadland measures a large Douglas fir on Quadra Island. With a diameter of 257 centimetres, it’s too small to be on a tree registry. (Photo by Leslie Campbell) The Discovery Islands are blessed with mild climate, rich soils and abundant precipitation, some of BC’s best growing conditions for coastal Douglas-fir. If Special Trees don’t grow here, where could we find them? And how many trees in BC actually qualify to be Special Trees? That led us to visit Cathedral Grove. VANCOUVER ISLAND’S BEST KNOWN and most-visited big trees are at Cathedral Grove in MacMillan Provincial Park on Highway 4 en route to Port Alberni. Surely those trees would meet BC’s Special Tree criteria? On a rainy day in early October, a few of us from the Discovery Islands met at the Grove to measure its very biggest trees. Of 14 Douglas-fir trees, only 3 were big enough to qualify for protection, 2 of them just-barely. Of the biggest cedar trees, none were big enough to win BC Special Tree Protection status. If Cathedral Grove wasn’t a park, only 3 trees and an adjacent 3 hectares of land would be protected. The largest Douglas fir in Cathedral Grove qualifies for Special Tree status (photo by Lannie Keller) This Douglas fir in Cathedral Grove, with a diameter of 266 centimetres (short of the required 270), does not qualify (photo by Lannie Keller) This Cathedral Grove red cedar doesn’t qualify—it’s diameter is 290 centimetres and the requirement is for 385 centimetres (photo by Lannie Keller) The BC government estimated its Special Tree Protection Regulation would identify about 1500 trees, resulting in a total protected area of 15 square kilometres [0.0016%] of the provincial land base. But in fact, far less will gain protection because many of the legacy trees are already safe in parks and ecological reserves. The Big Tree Registry (begun in 1986, now managed by UBC) includes all of BC’s identified large trees to date. It lists 457 trees, but 253 are in already-protected areas, and not all of the remaining 204 actually meet the Province’s new requirements. We wonder, if it took 35 years to find and list 457 trees, how long will it take to achieve the new provincial objective of 1500—and who will do it? BC’s Special Tree Protection Regulation describes an intention to protect big trees, but no plan for implementation. Logging companies are bound by law to record Special Trees, but that industry’s self-regulation and professional reliance have a woeful track record. Log scalers (who evaluate harvest volume) could check for infractions; however, their latest manual makes no reference to the Special Tree Protection Regulation. Will it again be concerned citizens who are tasked to find, measure, verify, and register the additional 1296 trees that are supposedly somewhere in BC’s clearcut landscape? Clearly, BC’s big tree protection strategy is not a forest protection strategy, or an old growth protection strategy. Its 56-metre buffer amounts to a handful of “supporting” trees protected around a Legacy Tree. The result is lonely old trees isolated in a clearcut—nothing like the interdependent forest ecosystem that was before. Trees need to be part of a forest of sufficient size in order to be resilient to catastrophic events like wind storms, fire, drought, disease and insect invasions. As we are witnessing, these events are becoming more frequent and more intense. Single tree protection is hopelessly inadequate, and the lonely legacy trees are a depressing reminder that we are losing the expansive forests which made BC famous. Big Lonely Doug near Eden Grove in the Fairy Creek area is aptly named (photo by David Broadland) The Special Tree Protection Regulation is a token gesture by a business-as-usual government that is attempting to placate the public into thinking it is addressing the issue of disappearing old growth. In actual fact, more than 97 percent of BC’s rich lower elevation forests have been logged. Less than 3 percent of the habitats required for growing legacy trees remain intact If BC’s government was genuinely concerned about protecting big trees, they would have listened to experts and citizen concerns, and at the very least they would have reduced the size requirements. Government did the opposite, with a public relations stunt that serves the logging industry, and diverts public attention away from the real issues of deforestation, habitat destruction, and loss of old growth and biodiversity. The real and urgent need is to protect BC’s remaining old forests, and to create an effective plan for ensuring the recruitment of younger forests as future old growth. The Big Tree Protection program demonstrates yet again how BC’s government disregards forests and democracy. The overwhelming majority of British Columbians want to protect all remaining old growth. We desperately want to believe that government is doing the right thing, following through on promises, waking up to the urgent needs of today, and heeding science. But, the NDP’s newest deferrals are vague and untested. This time, let’s keep the pressure on government to be honest and responsible to the land and its people. Lannie Keller is grateful for the beauty of living in a forest by the sea. She and her family run a kayaking company from their homestead in the outer Discovery Islands. Johanna Paradis has a technician background in Fish & Wildlife work. She has spent the last 13 years homesteading and raising wild kids on a remote coastal island. Lannie and Johanna, along with a score of others, work together on local forestry issues. -
The impact of destructive clearcut logging on the emotional wellbeing of individuals and communities is real. Why does it have little or no influence in ministry of forests decisions about how forests are used for “social” benefits. Read Islanders defending the forest against another clearcut on their small island. (Photo: Ralph Keller) THE TERM “ecological grief” was recently described in headline news on CBC radio. Another new word, “solastalgia,” was coined to describe emotional distress we experience when living with negatively-perceived environmental change. I know these emotions, and I know they are widely shared. On a personal level almost all of us react when our life-support systems seem to be threatened. But, besides grieving, what do we do with our sense of loss when our surroundings, places we love and places we need, are destroyed? What can we do? My own experience began over 40 years ago, when my husband and I began our adult lives as settlers on a remote forested island on the BC Coast. Even though the land we bought had been partially clearcut, we only knew what we saw, and felt sure we had found Nirvana. Everywhere around us there were deep green forests full of biological mystery and majesty. The island’s few homesteads were connected by green mossy trails and one small dirt road. Mostly people walked. One day we trekked to the store and the old storekeeper told us some lands had been purchased by a logging company; he seemed distressed by the news. We didn’t understand. The next summer, a guy walked in on our trail and asked if we wanted some work. We were chronically short of money, so we helped him fill blast holes with dynamite; he was a non-local working for the logging company, making rock for road building. The blaster (who became a friend) said what was happening on the island was immoral, but we were blind to the reality of what we were doing. We also worked at fish farming for one winter, and later—again because we needed money—my husband took a winter job logging. The backwards view is that those experiences helped us understand these industries. They also increased our resolve to find a living that didn’t include destroying what we came here to love and celebrate. So we built a lodge, intended to serve guests who might share our appreciation for Nature’s wonders. As one of BC’s first kayak tour companies in the late 1980s, our lives became the struggle that typifies small business owners: entrepreneurial survival. And it turned out that our biggest challenge has been to protect the landscape that is the basis of our livelihood. Industrial logging produced clearcuts that joined into massive scars we couldn’t hide from our guests who were eager for the beauty and wildness of “Super Natural BC” that we (and the government) had promised. We pleaded with government and industry to at least protect viewsheds. We abandoned and revised our paddling paths. We tried to defend our efforts when our own guests repeatedly asked, “Why do you let them do this?” Our winter “time-off” became a balance between marketing and maintenance, and our ever-increasing and increasingly-futile efforts to stop the slaughter of Natural Beauty. Our lives became a desperate battle to protect the landscape we knew and loved—and needed. We wrote letters, we organized, we became political, and we joined other community efforts. Someone else became so frustrated they put nails in some trees and sabotaged equipment fuel. We knew nothing about this but the loggers made us targets of their anger. It felt unfair and ugly. We thought about leaving, but we decided to stay and defend this island and surrounding area that so obviously needed protectors. We learned about the gifts that forests provide us, about reciprocity and how we humans could balance our needs and wants. We learned about the timber corporations that direct government policies and create single industry forest-dependent communities. We watched those undiversified communities struggle and frequently fail, here and elsewhere across BC We knew things weren’t right: the forest-dependent communities were a corporate sacrifice zone, and government didn’t seem to understand or care. I cried a lot. I cried when our beautiful mossy trails became blast-rock roads travelled by trucks filled with the remains of majesty. I mourned for the animal homes destroyed, and wondered what else lived and died in the clearcuts. I felt sick when tiny fragile streams became mud holes in a scene of devastation. I felt rage when the creeks and ocean were brown with soil from careless logging. I yearned for the deep forest greens that were gone, and I was distressed about the invasive shrub that replaced lichens and wildflowers in dried up clearings. Our frustration was immense, but neither government nor industry would connect logging with deforestation or wildfires or climate chaos—or community security. Sudden loss of a familiar place is discomforting, but “shifting baseline syndrome” is a more insidious dilemma of our quickly-changing 21st century. Shifting baselines describes how each new generation (or group of settlers) perceives their own experience of a place as “normal.” It’s a slippery slope that explains our limited human ability to recognize change over time, and our willingness to accept the steady degradation of our environment. It underscores the importance of accurate baselines and histories of loss. When we first came here, collecting mushrooms in the forest was a highlight of our autumn. For me it was a time to commune with nature, rejuvenation after the hard-working summer. It was a chance to walk slow and close to the earth, to smell and to listen, watch how water flows over the land, how trees and plants live in communities, and the integral role of fungi. I could observe birds and the diverse array of plants. Being in a real forest is a personally enriching experience that makes me feel extra-alive. Turns out that’s another universal truth. Chanterelles were a local favourite, easy to identify—and for some people a source of income: on the next island there used to be buyers who forwarded the delicacies to city markets. But we learned that chanterelles grow in mature forests with complex mycorrhizal systems, forests with big trees. So I’ve been heart broken multiple times when my special mushroom places got logged. My nirvana is suddenly a biological wasteland when all the forest life I appreciated is gone. This hits hard, because that loss comes with knowledge that the biodiversity won’t recover in my lifetime, or even my grandson’s life. I just hope there’s future wisdom that gives it a chance and time to happen. “Forestry feeds families” is a familiar refrain from the logging industry. But living forests also feed families and I spend more and more time wondering why a shrinking number of logging-dependent families get to access and destroy all the incredible values associated with forests, while the majority of British Columbians plead for remnants. Yes, I am mad. My lifetime of grief for the loss of life and place turns to anger at all the people responsible for logging. Their insensitivity to the natural world—our global life support system—is unfathomable and alarming. I try to put on other shoes, but it’s past time when we can “share the forest.” That notion from the 1980s was a ruse: you can share only so many times before just fragments remain—and that’s what has happened to BC forest. I’m sorry for the forest worker families who need to revise their personal economies. It’s a challenge, but its not a unique situation: industries come and go. And social values change. Loggers can change, too. My community has suffered the tragedy of loss and also the loss of potential. Local residents (who mainly don’t participate in logging) could have built a very different economy if the landscape wasn’t a mess of roads and clearcuts, if there was any of the original giant majestic rainforest to appreciate. If if… Ecological grief is real and we have to deal with it. We also have to deal with the floods and landslides that result from logged-off and wildfire-scarred landscapes. On our watch, in just over 150 years, the settler community has killed the carbon-sequestering capacity of BC’s natural forests, ecosystems that evolved and survived (before “us”) for thousands of years. That’s a sad fact that we all have to own. Even more sad is that my view of grief is pale in comparison to some First Nations’ experience. When I try to imagine their loss of place through physical force and disrespect, it’s difficult to fathom the intensity of feelings that had to be part of that dispossession. This is something we have to confront and consider as we move forward. I hope we can do this together. And that Nature prevails. Lannie Keller and her family run a kayaking company from their homestead in the outer Discovery Islands.
.thumb.jpg.52d2b597e74a8905c7f6bf97f1a19980.jpg)
