Nature Essay – The Secret Language of Trees

It shall explore the fascinating way in which trees communicate with each other through chemical signals and root networks, revealing the complex social lives of the forests.

Bibliography (CSE Style Citations)

1. Wohlleben P. The hidden life of trees: what they feel, how they communicate: discoveries from a secret world. Vancouver, BC; Berkeley: David Suzuki Institute / Greystone Books; 2006. doi:9781771642484

2. 1. Wohlleben P. The secret wisdom of nature: trees, animals, and the extraordinary balance of all living things: stories from science and observation. Billinghurst J, translator. Vancouver, BC; Berkeley: David Suzuki Institute / Greystone Books; 2019.doi:9781771643887

3. 1. Stebbins RC. Connecting with nature: a naturalist’s perspective. Arlington, Va: National Science Teachers Association; 2012. doi:9781936959891

4. 1. Horton TR, editor. Mycorrhizal networks. Dordrecht: Springer; 2015. doi:9789401773959

Essay::

In the heart of an ancient forest, once upon a time, a new life was born. A life that began as a tender shoot reaching and grasping for dappled sunlight through the leafy canopy above.

Through the cycles of seasons, and years passing by the tree bore witness to a symphony of life unfolding around it, a symphony conducted not through birdsong, the rustle of leaves or the patter of rain but through the secret language of trees, a covert dialogue woven into the fabric of our existence.

A humble oak tree stands guard in the viridian green tapestry of the woods. Its roots branch far and wide and intertwine with the bountiful tapestry of the earth. It is a complex tangle of life concealed beneath the soil, a network that extends far beyond the reach of its humble

branches. In this hidden underworld, mycorrhizal threads weave an intricate narrative. It is here that the tree discovers the first whispers of the secret language that draws this infinitely green conglomeration together.

Mycorrhizal; tiny fungal threads that wrap around thick tree roots. Winding all around the forest floor, the mycelium forms a wood-wide web that allows individual plants to help one another transfer water, nitrogen, carbon and other minerals.

A long time ago, the sapling felt a gentle nuzzle of the wind, a whisper, a sound, a message carrying tales from distant leaves. As the sapling’s roots grew deeper into the soil, it became a participant in a dialogue that transcends spoken word. It was a chemical language, letters and

words written in soil, carried by breeze and shared through the underground fungal networks that maze the earth beneath our feet.

Soon the little sapling found its parents. Whose seeds had birthed this new life. Through this newfound network, the parents passed the little sapling water. When the soil wasn’t fertile enough, they sent it nutrients. The sapling found that it had a family.

As the tree grew older, it came to learn of a theatre of botanical drama in the nexus. It discovered that the network wasn’t just used to share resources but to steal them as well. It saw a thieving plant extend its tendrils into the mycorrhizal network, pilfering the photosynthate,

the lifeblood from a nearby tree. It saw its nexus of hope and love become a spectral courier and an accomplice to the larceny, ferrying carbon from the vulnerable tree to the robber. It found that much like humans; it was only the survival of the fittest.

In tree language, secrets aren’t exchanged through petty gossip, but through the release of chemical signals.

One day the tree was suddenly attacked. A group of insects descended with hunger and greed and threatened to strip its leaves bare. At that moment, instead of crying for help the tree released a set of volatile compounds in the air. This chemical whisper was carried by the trees to warn its neighboring companions of the impending danger. It was a message encoded in the air we breathe. It was an urgent plea to fortify themselves.

The neighboring trees, wise to its distress, altered their own chemical compositions and lifted their defenses by activating certain parts of their immune system against the common foe. In this show of resilience, the forest formed bonds unseen by a casual observer. It was a pact of survival, a testament to the interconnected lives that pulse through the forest.

As the seasons passed, the tree better understood the nuances of this chemical symphony.

Every tree, whether pine, birch, maple or oak contributed their own notes to this grand composition. The pine sang of its fortitude against the winter breeze. The birch hummed with adaptability, bending gracefully in the wind.

In the spring, as the buds stretched open from their winter slumber, and the first leaves emerged there was a sense of joy in the air. The chemical signals exchanged during this season carried a scent of hope and abundance.

As summer came around, it brought with it a new energy. The lush green leaves harnessed the sun into energy that courses through the tree’s veins. The mycorrhizal network, buzzing with activity, became a channel for the exchange of nutrients, a grand market spread beneath the

soil.

And then winter. Everything was slower in winter. The once bustling network slowed down and chemical exchanges became rare.

The mycorrhizal threads beneath the soil, the wifi that connected all the trees together, not only helped the trees share nutrients but also share the essence of their existence. When one among them surrendered to the ravages of diseases, the entire network mourned. Through this web, the demise of one tree became collective and was felt by every tree.

Through this secret language, the tree came to understand that though its life was rooted in one place, it was part of something much bigger, a grand narrative that exceeded beyond the reach of its bark and branches. The whispery rustles of its leaves and the sway in its branches and the chemical signals it released were all a part of a grand saga. In the secret language of trees, it not only found survival but a sense of belonging.