Colin: Takes so long for a tree to grow, so little time to fall

There are times when I just seem to bumble through life, always busy, and looking at life through a pretty narrow lens. Then there are other times when the world seems to come into focus with such clarity and interconnectedness that I stand amazed day after day that we could be so oblivious to the interdependency and complicated ways of the cosmos. My gut tells me everything plays upon everything else, and that we hardly take the time to notice.

I think of the Solitary eagle flying out from the trees on my walk out of the reserve. It came out from the shadows of a spectacular Ficus tree that my eyes are always drawn to. It flew out across the valley and into another massive tree to the west of me. I kept staring at the tree hoping for another glimpse, but it never did show itself. I will never forget how the early morning sun set off the bluish gray color of its body, and the shear size of its stout wings. Each day I pass near here, my eyes scan the huge tree in which it landed, hoping we would meet again.

Yesterday, as with all preceding days, I looked out across the valley in search of something out of place within the grandmother Ficus tree. A dark clump, a moving shadow, a shaking twig. I immediately knew something was different. I did not see the eagle, but something was definitely out of place. What used to be a steep green hillside rising up like to the forest where the giant trees stand now, had a scar across its face. A new road had been bulldozed across the emerald contours of the slope. The sight of the new road glared out at me like a jagged gash in the belly of a friend. The deep red soil spilling down the steep slope like blood from an open wound. I walked on, not knowing if I wanted to see more. I came to where the new road meets our rough, previously unused road to our reserve. I could hear a bulldozer running up ahead and decided to see what they were doing, and how close they were to Aula Global.

Up and up I walked, slipping and sliding on the newly exposed earth. The road had just been cut through old pasture and was ridiculously steep. As I was reaching the crest of the bleeding road, I looked back over my left shoulder and far away I could see where I stood the other day, looking out to gaze at the eagle. Much to my surprise the road before me entered the forest right at the big tree the eagle had entered. Or should I say where the tree used to be. I stared in disbelief that it was now gone! And many others too.

I reached the crest and started down the other side and quickly met a D-4 Bulldozer coming up the slope, dragging behind it a 12 foot long tree trunk with a diameter of at least 8 feet. That too was a blood red color, with the wood still seeping where it had just been cut. My heart sank.

The machine operator was very surprised to see me. More surprised were the two wood cutters that followed behind the carcass, walking slowly and solemnly, as if in a funeral procession. I guess that's what it was.

They stared at me with some suspicions when I introduced myself. I knew I had to alter the look on my face from sadness and concern to admiration of the downed tree. I knew this would open the door and they would let me into their world. Instead of showing them the side of me that was hurting and wanting to complain about the destruction, I dug deep and reached out to the machismo side of them.

I started off with a statement of how huge the tree was, and how it sure must have been hard work cutting it down. At first I got no reply, just a shrug. I tried again. How many kilos do you think it weighs? Still just a blank stare. I waited a few minutes and just followed along side them, moving slowly with the fallen grandmother. With each new tug of the winch cable, the shear weight of the log would force it to plow deeply into the fragile earth, turning up folds of soil laced with roots, flower parts and small creatures running for their lives.

At last, one of the men spoke to me (in campensino Spanish). He said the type of tree is called Cedro. "Es Muy Duro." I asked how old they thought it was and they guessed around 500 years. How many more will you pull out I asked. "No se" was their reply. The other guy shifted an enormous chain saw to his opposite hand and continued. "Our boss who owns this tractor will go from farm to farm and offer to haul out trees if people want to cut them down". He continued. "Because of the rains, we only have two months a year in which we can haul them so we have to work fast. The rains make it impossible." I nodded.

The dozer was now crawling along a knife edge ridge so thin it seemed to balance precariously on the edge of the world. The log dug in deep and yanked the bulldozer sideways. Huge clumps of soil tumbled down the hill. The driver hit the brakes hard and released the winch. He drove on without the log. That made sense to me. If that log rolled over the edge it was heavy enough to take him with it. He drove on, the tracks of the dozer clacking rhythmically as it tossed up huge clots of red soil. When he was far enough away from the edge, he hauled in the 1 inch diameter steel cable, and the tree followed in fits and lurches.

My heart ached. I always feared this would happen close to our reserve. But not this close. The mountains just seemed too steep and impossible to get at to cut and haul such massive trees. Obviously this was not the case.

When he got to where we park our truck to walk in to the Aula Global reserve, he released the cable and used the blade to push the log into a clearing he had made earlier. Roots and branches lay skinned and broken, like sinew and tendons of the earth. Nearby trees that still stood were gashed and weeping. One by one more logs came to the pile and were heaped up.

I noticed the men off on another new road cutting to the left of the one I had just come down. I walked it for about 300 meters and again I found the wood cutters. Plus a few other men. One was sitting in the sun carefully sharpening the business end of his four foot long chain saw. The rest were all standing together looking down into an unbelievable steep ravine and pointing. I looked down but all I could see was a tangle of rain forest plants, branches and such. Then I saw it. A red spot stuck out of the violently torn earth. It was another enormous tree that had fallen to the relatively tiny chain saw. And this one was huge!

It was with shock that I realized this tree was the giant Ficus I could see from across the way. This was the very tree where the eagle had landed. What was once majestic and towering, now lay buried in debris and mud. It looked pitiful, sad and defeated. I shivered and silently said a prayer. One guy came to me and asked if we have trees like this left in America. NO I said. At least not where I live. Only in California and Oregon. But they are almost gone now. He shook his head and had a slightly sad look to his face, like he understood the meaning of that statement. But his look soon shifted to pride. The tractor had arrived and he was called upon to go down the slope and hook the cable onto the tangled mess.

Once the cable was set it became clear the angle was too acute to haul with the winch, so they released the tree. The dozer once again started tearing at the earth. In just 20 minutes he had created yet another road, allowing a better angle at the corpse. For three million years this land lay unmolested, and in just 20 minutes it was opened up like a ripe melon. I began thinking about all the contradictions we live with. The earth has been eroding away for millennia, then she rises up again, a natural process that goes on and on. That feels right to me. I have stood in awe of that very scenario still in action in the Himalayas. But here, I watch in great agony. I know that compared to the natural forces of the earth, this bulldozer is nothing. But it was still painful to watch.

Then the mechanic in me started to marvel at the shear power of the winch. A metal hulk of simple gears and levers allows a meek human to do such incredible destruction. Or construction! It is all in the eyes of the beholder. To add to the irony, I noticed the driver had a bum arm. Born deformed, it looked like the front arm of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. But even with that dwarfed and feeble arm, all he had to do is pull a little lever and tons of force could be exerted upon anything he wishes. After a minute of exact maneuvering on that precarious hillside, all was set. He pulled the magic lever.

The earth at my feet began to quake as the cable came taught. Inside the tangle of debris a hug log started to shake. Nearby trees quivered as tons of pressure were exerted. But this old grandmother tree stood defiant. I was standing down slope and to the rear of the dozer. I noticed huge hunks of raw earth shaking free and tumbling down beside me. I looked up in time to see the front end of the bulldozer rising three feet up off the ground! It stood there, trembling, then slammed back down as he backed off the winch controls. Still the tree did not free itself. I felt a sense of victory for the tree, but also a sense of danger. If that cable snapped it would take my head off. I ran up slope out of the way before he began again.

The tractor engine was now shut down and men came from all directions. Each descended the steep slope and created a human chain. The huge saw was passed down through each callused hand until it reached the fallen tree. Machetes followed. Minutes later all epiphytes, orchids, vines and flowers were removed from its skin. The tree now lay naked and exposed. It looked so broken, sad and vulnerable. In the silence that followed and the chain saw was hauled back up to the top of the hill, I could hear a quetzal calling behind me. Much to my surprise a woodcutter pointed it out. It was great that he noticed, but I had to wonder if he made the connection between that giant tree and the quetzal. The quetzal need old growth trees to nest in, and in return it spreads the seeds of the trees through out the forest. They are connected. One by one we humans slowly extinguish the lights of so many. There are just too many of us on the planet.

The tractor was fired up again and they yanked some more. Though they got the tree to move a little, it was still clinging hard to the hillside. This time the operator really laid into the controls. The tractor rose violently. This time the cable did snap, slamming the tractor down to earth. Thankfully no one was near as the ends of the cable whipped up the slope. The detached section of cable whizzed into the now free wheeling winch. We all gathered around the wreckage of the cable. By this time no one had even noticed I existed. I had been video taping the whole scene. Fearing they would hassle me for doing so, I was relieved to see they were so focused on other things. Clearing old growth forest is not exactly a popular job anymore.

All the years I have been coming to Costa Rica I have seen giant trees on trucks, but never was I allowed anywhere near the actual operation of cutting. Much of this is done illegally, so I can see why. Though it hurt to see this whole scene, I felt a had to watch. This was an affirmation for me that our reserve was so needed. And badly! Each year millions of hectares of rain forest fall just like these. One giant at a time.

A race against time

I had hoped we could continue fundraising a few more years and save the ancient trees that stand on the Oscar Rodriguez property over looking our reserve. For those of you who have been to Aula Global you know the trees I speak of. But this year there has been such a building boom in Monteverde and the surrounding areas that land prices have soared, and will continue to do so. We have done some incredible things at Aula Global and have saved some precious rain forest. I am so grateful to all of you who have helped make it possible. Though I am excited to know the trees of Aula Global are protected, I also feel very concerned for the ridge where the grandmother trees stand so proudly in front of our research station. In listening to the woodcutters, they are possibly next in line. For Aula Global, I fear this is our last hurrah as far as saving land. Prices are getting way out of our league. Even as it stands now, the final pieces of forest we had hoped to save over the next few years would cost nearly $300,000. (if we could buy it right now) Just last year that same forest would have cost $200,000. Five years ago when we first started the reserve, it was $50,000! I didn't stay to see the defiant tree lose her battle. I did not want to watch what was going to happen to most of the land around us over the next few years. I had to stay just to remind myself that my work is far from done. Once the cable had broken on the winch just I could not stay. The tree had beat them, but I knew that the men would eventually win. They had the advantage.

I remembered a scene I witnessed while in Africa. Two male lions had taken down a Cape Buffalo. The final blows had been struck while the beast was standing is a shallow river. The lions stood over their kill and looked around cautiously to ensure they were alone before becoming too preoccupied with eating. Beginning at the belly, they tore off huge pieces of flesh. But within minutes a 15 foot long Crocodile came up stream and was now closing in. One lion roared and snarled, but the croc slowly crept forward. Then the lion swatted it square on the head. The dazed croc reared its head skyward and bared all its teeth before it backed down. Soon after, there were three crocs, then six. Before long, the lions were out numbered and had to give up their meal. I knew as a walked away from the victorious tree, that these guys would not let up. Eventually they would have that tree out of the ravine.

As I walked alone through the forest toward Aula Global (which is only a 10 minute walk from the fallen trees) I started thinking about the energy of things. How everything gives and takes energy. That every thing we do takes and gives energy. Good or bad. (I do not mean from a caloric sense). The energy in which we lovingly care for a newborn baby is a palpable thing. The energy of someone screaming in anger is also measurable on some unknown meter we have deep inside ourselves. It is this kind of energy I was pondering on my walk. The scene with the crocs and lions was fascinating to watch. One thing I came away with from that day in Africa was the understanding that most animals know when to quit. They do not unnecessarily risk their lives or spend more energy then they get from their work. If lions are outnumbered, they will back down from hyenas or wild dogs, even though they could have one for lunch. Humans on the other hand, don't play by those rules. Nature does not stand a chance with us. If that tree refuses to let go and submit to the winch, we will get a bigger winch. If that winch does not work, we will cut the tree into smaller pieces, or build yet another road. One way or another, we will win. Again I thought about the contradictions. Isn't it our persistence and perseverance that makes humans so great?

I have not owned a TV in 25 years, but this past season I got to watch some of the 2004 Olympic games at a friends house. I was stunned beyond belief at the accomplishments of the young gymnasts. The energy, pain and persistence it must have taken to accomplish such feats astounded me. I was on the edge of my seat, shocked at their strength and flexibility. And the amazing knowing inside each of them to their bodies orientation to the ground (not to mention something so tiny as a 4 inch balance beam! ) I thought about the energy being used by the athletes, and the energy used to cut these ancient tress into boards. Two examples of athletic endurance. But with two very different ends.

Like Olympic athletes, the wood cutters will persevere. One ancient tree at a time. I guess that is where intention comes in. But even still, I do not believe these woodcutters mean any harm. The damage is obvious to see and the harm irreparable, but they are only doing what they are paid to do it. Which in turn helps them ensure they can lovingly care for their children by providing food, clothing etc. Knowing what each one of them will be paid (about a dollar an hour), the essentials will be all they can provide.

In listening in on the wood cutters conversations over lunch, I believe I heard them mention the Oscar Rodriguez property. My ears perked up as I heard something about the ridge and the giant trees there. I knew right away this is the ridge we are hoping to save. I asked where the finca was, and they pointed to the ridge. My heart sank. My heart truly bottomed out then. That is when I knew I had to walk away. I could not take any more.

As I walked back into the Aula Global reserve my thoughts became so convoluted, the contradictions within myself running so rampant and deep. I had to stop thinking, and just sit. I found a rock on the way and sat in silence. In the distance I could hear the groaning of the tractor as it once again tugged at the downed tree. An orange bellied trogon called somewhere near. I called back. Within seconds it had come to me and perched on a limb just above my head. For over a decade I had tried to get a photo of one of these special and secretive birds. Now, as I sit alone, and with no film in my camera, she sits so pretty right above me. I just breathe deep and take in the scene. For the first time in nearly three hours I spoke out loud. I apologized to the trogon. Firstly I apologized for not being a handsome male trogon, as she certainly must have hoped I was when I called her. Then I apologized for the destruction happening to her forest. I apologized to the big ficus tree I love so much that stands across the valley on the ridge. I eventually walked on into the forest, letting the tractor sounds fade.
I arrived at the research station to find Meggie working away (like an Olympic athlete) on our new dorm. I looked out from the unfinished doorway and saw the giant ficus on the ridge. I said a prayer for her, hoping the rains would come early. This would buy us some time to raise the funds to save her.

Since I wrote this in my journal in May, 2005, we have successfully raised over $50,000 to help save the ridge over looking Aula Global. We need your help now if we are to succeed. The rains did come early, buying us some time. We must raise another $45,000 as soon as possible if we are to succeed. Please send a donation or make a secure paypal donation today.

For the Earth,
Colin Garland, Global Classroom founder