Chestnut Tree
by Francois Krige
It is 35 years ago, the summer of 1990. Mandela had been released and I was waiting in London with a group of South African exiles for repatriation.
I was training as an arborist that year, working hard climbing trees each day. In the evenings and on the weekends, I joined a group of good people, Hackney Friends of the Earth. A lovely environmental group. Their motto was “Think global, act local”. From the FOE group a spontaneous smaller movement started, the Hackney Tree Group. We would go to Epping forest and harvest saplings and plant them in under greened poor parts of the suburb, after ensuring that a resident would water them. We would roam the streets and remove the tree stakes and ties that were damaging fast growing saplings, and then there was the big old chestnut ….
We somehow got wind of the news that an old chestnut tree that grew on a pathway between the houses, leading to a park, was to be felled because it was damaging a garden wall.
A tree group meeting was held under the tree and the situation was assessed, a small crack that could easily be plastered over was visible. It seemed to be a situation where the intended response was disproportionate to the offence committed.
We found out that the owner of the wall had obtained a court order forcing the council to fell the tree within 30 days. We also found out that if we could prevent the council from felling the tree for 30 days, a whole new and expensive legal process would have to be followed.
We decided to occupy the tree.
We strung banners and hammocks, stored snacks and water, and occupied the tree during daylight hours till the court order expired.
It was summer school holidays and idyllic, the kids helped paint the banner. The council was tacitly supportive of us and even tipped us off of the day that the tree team was booked.
The big day came after we had occupied the tree for a good few weeks. I was running out of time and money and my boss was running out of sympathy for my tree hugging tendencies.
The tree gang arrived and there were kids and adults from the community gathered around the base of the tree singing songs. The tree was resplendent with banners and activists in harnesses roped into the crown. The cops were called and they ordered us to come down, we refused and invited them to join us, they declined and departed.
The tree gang decided to go and do some pruning in the park instead, and told us they had no desire to cut the tree down anyway. The BBC turned up and a reporter climbed a ladder to get close to the hammocks and banners and tree occupiers, predictability he asked us what our demands were…. A reprieve, save the tree! We replied. Then Tom, our convener had an inspired moment, he added “we won’t come down until the tree is saved, there is a moratorium on logging the rainforest, and all third world debt is cancelled. He knew how to punch above his weight.
A few months later I was finally able to return to South Africa, but I never forget the chestnut.
I often wondered over the last 35 years whether it was felled once the glare of publicity had gone. I saw so many trees get felled for shoddy reasons in my years as an arborist. I had good reason to believe that the chestnut succumbed to a similar fate.
I recently visited my family in Scotland and had a day to wonder around London. I really didn’t think I would be able to find the tree, but while looking at a map I saw a small park with a path to access it, and the odd name, St. Paul’s shrubbery, rang a bell. It was a very short walk from the flat I was staying in on Newington Green. The tree still stands. It’s been lopped and harshly cut back from the neighbour’s garden. The recent London summers have been brutal, especially on chestnut trees, but it is alive and shows no signs of decline.
It’s quite a significant moment for me to meet this tree again and leads to reflection on the longevity of trees, the slowness of tree time, and the quickness of our lives. I was just turning 23 then, I have just turned 57 now. My enthusiasm for trees is still strong, and a life with trees has been really rewarding. The challenge is always to think in tree time. The chestnut tree helps me do this in a few ways.
The chestnut was around 200 years old when I first met it. It’s still around 200 years old. Some things have changed, the rough treatment it received at the hands of some council tree contractors leaves its mark on the tree. Climate change is working on it too. The leaves are severely desiccated for end of August. It has however hardly expanded in girth at base. Remember the original reason for felling it was that it was damaging the wall, well they plastered the crack and apparently no new ones have formed over the last 35 years. The tree is past its fast growing fast expanding stage of life.
This is so pertinent for every day tree work. We are so often asked to agree to remove a tree based on its future potential to cause damage. The crack in the wall was a sure indicator of future serious damage.. true, but the chestnut shows us that this is not a problem for our lifetimes.
What the chestnut teaches us is that we worry about the strangest things.
It’s not only trees that crack walls or lift pavers, as an arborist I’m often dealing with clients who cannot believe that their tree is safe and believe that it will fall on their house. No amount of safety inspections and reassurance will allay those fears. Tree time is slow, yes, the tree will definitely fall if it’s not felled timeously, but it may take another century to actually become dangerous.
We don’t for instance worry about freeway bridges collapsing under our cars, yet they will collapse one day unless they are demolished first. The inevitability of demise and death is everywhere, but so is life. What the chestnut invites us to do is to step back from thinking of the inevitability of disaster and enjoy the presence of a tree.
The original homeowner from 1990 has long gone, a young family live there now. They seem to be friends with the tree, no recent cutting back has occurred. Perhaps the old owner has passed away, or perhaps he is still worrying about something somewhere.
The chestnut just lives on and looks on.