Seeing the trees for the forest, and the forest for the trees – biocultural interactions in Europe’s treescapes

Prologue

There are approximately 58,000 described and validly published tree species worldwide (BGCI 2021). Rivers et al. (2023) suggest that ‘a third of the world’s tree species are currently threatened with extinction, which represents a major ecological crisis’, resulting in ‘abrupt declines in biodiversity, ecosystem functions and services and ultimately ecosystem collapse’. Cooper et al. (2024) offer a different view, noting that ‘most common (tree) species are likely to belong to a manageable list of known species, enabling targeted efforts to understand their ecology’, and by inference their conservation and management. They also caveat that this should not take away from a focus on rare tree species – yet their conclusion is clearly at variance with Rivers et al. (2023). So, while the phrase is usually ‘cannot see the forest for the trees’, reading this volume in review has made me think the phrase is better inverted, since if you do not see the trees, you may miss the forest. Of course, both views are necessary, and, as with all ecosystems, there is a crucial need to understand fully the role of people in the creation, conservation, and management of ecosystems.

What are treescapes?

In the volume under review, Ian Rotherham has assembled an interesting set of contributors from across Europe writing about the biocultural heritage of treescapes. While treescapes seems a cumbersome word, the Merriam-Webster dictionary definition (Treescape 2024) is ‘a landscape including many trees or groups of trees’. This definition clearly encompasses a range of ecosystems/landscapes from forests, woodlands, and open treed grasslands. The origins of the term treescape appears uncertain, but by the late 20th century, ‘treescape’ had become a recognized term in the lexicon of art and landscape description – but not so much in natural history. Rotherham notes in the introduction that ‘Looking back to history and forwards to futurescapes, it is useful to consider “woods”, “forests” and “woodlands” within the broader context of “treescapes”’.

As Volume Editor, Rotherham adds this perspective that a treescape is ‘…a wider term to encapsulate countryside within which trees are significant components’. In understanding the origins & stewardship of treescapes it is crucial to understand that people’s heritage and culture are key to understanding the ecosystem dynamics of woods and forests. Crucially, these systems do not exist without the presence – and historical framing – of people. And that is the strength of this volume – ensuring the ‘history’ part of natural history is brought to the fore and used as a lens to interpret the treescapes of today – and what the treescapes of tomorrow might look like.

While Europe’s forests have developed largely de novo on glacial soils and substrates in recent millennia, and so remain in a state of successional flux, many of the observations made in the chapters also hold true across the treescapes of the world; from the Amazon to the Taiga, from the evergreen forest of China to the southern beech forest of Chile. The linking ecological factor in all these ecosystems is human activity that has gently – or more recently forcibly – created and managed treescapes. Consequently, many of the chapters are conservation myth-busters, and well worth reading and reference simply for that.

The importance of ancient woodland – but how ancient is ancient?

Ancient woodland is term used increasingly to signify areas of high conservation potential. ‘Old Growth Forest’ is another oft used term but is not entirely synonymous with ancient woodland. In fact, many areas of ancient woodland and old-growth forest are less species-rich, and lack the habitat patchiness, of more recent managed woodlands. Alexander (2024) talks of ‘old growth landscapes’ when discussing habitats and conservation of saproxylic insects. As he points out in discussing Cosnard’s net-winged beetle (Erotides cosnardi) ‘conservation management needs to consider processes which provide both open glades and large, old, decaying beech hulks’. He also noted how the UK’s Ancient Tree Forum provided ‘imaginative new ideas during its short early history. Its multi-disciplinary and free discussion approach has proved very revealing. It brought together fungal and invertebrate ecology with arboriculture and practical experience of managing old growth landscapes’. Such multidisciplinary fora are sorely needed not just in woodland ecology, but in all ecosystems, where ‘silo thinking’ is still far too pervasive.

Williamson (2024) demonstrates clearly that ancient woodland in England, while usually perceived as a natural ecosystem, is often far from that – and that many ancient woodlands are now highly unnatural systems. The use of artificial and arbitrary datelines to define ancient woodlands further confuses the situation, with 1600 being the time after which woodlands are not considered as ancient. Woodlands from before 1600 are considered as derived from the wildwoods, so eloquently described by Rackham (1980) and Peterken (1981). The different histories of ancient woodlands may mean that plots with ‘characteristics’ of ancient woodland may have quite different origins and will have been managed in quite diverse ways. Such different origins mean ancient woodlands are an especially rich resource of heritage and archaeological features, yet this aspect is often unrecognised – and sometimes actively degraded by clumsy management operations.

Woodland or wood pasture?

The debate on ancient woodland, deriving from the natural post-glacial wildwoods, is also thrown into doubt because of the (albeit controversial) work of Vera (2000), among others. Vera’s argument is that much of the pre-Neolithic landscape of northern and western Europe would have been lightly treed – i.e. akin to savannah, rather than a dense forest. This controversial view remains unresolved but should be kept fully in mind when thinking about the status of woodlands, ancient or not. Several chapters deal with this recurring theme, offering a range of interests, views, and data on wood-pasture vs. woodland and forest.

A particular point made in the volume is that ‘wood-pastures converted over recent centuries to modern, economically driven forestry, often under the guise of this forestry being a natural system … have caused major losses in biodiversity and in many aspects of ecosystem service delivery’. And since the past determines the future, the rush to create new, densely planted, woodlands should be tempered by thinking carefully about what treescapes in the next 50 years and beyond should look like, and what role planted woodlands should have in the broader treescape.

What about carbon?

‘Plant more trees’ has been an increasing catchcry in the discussions of the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change since inception. A key focus for trees and treescapes was first recognized through the Kyoto Protocol (1997), which inter alia embraced the critical role of forestry in mitigating climate change. In many ways treescapes have come to great prominence through their ecosystem service of carbon sequestration. Yet tree planting for carbon sequestration is not a single, straight forward issue. For example, dense plantations of trees, made with the best of intentions, may be less effective that more open wood pasture. There is also ambiguity in how government and non-government agencies have reacted blindly to the demand for ‘more trees, everywhere, all at once’.

For example, there are reports of the UK Forestry Commission creating plantations on peatland sites declared as Sites of Special Scientific Interest (protected areas for conservation) (Guardian 2021). In the case of plantations over peatland the error is compounded as the carbon released from disturbance will take decades to be re-absorbed by any trees planted, let alone the trees sequestering new carbon. Indeed, the role of treescapes in carbon sequestration needs urgent evaluation to ensure the global set of schemes to plant trees makes sense. Simply parroting ‘right tree in right place’ will not achieve the desired results.

Wright (2024) emphasises the role of hedgerows in carbon sequestration, noting that less-managed hedgerows sequester more carbon. Hedgerows are a key component of treescapes, providing connectivity between woodland patches, and allowing flows of nutrients, energy and genes. On this theme, quoting Dass et al. (2018), Bobiec and Rotherham (2024) note” variegated landscapes with semi-open woods and groves … could provide more reliable alternatives for carbon offsetting systems than dense forests”. Hooke (2024) and others in the volume make the point that current research is now indicating that wood-pasture systems can be sustainable and will deliver enhanced ecosystem services such as carbon sequestration, water management, and biodiversity more effectively than closed forest. Additionally, wood-pasture systems support local communities and rural economic development e.g. the Dehesa in Spain and Portugal.

Cultural severance

Rotherham (2024) details the Doomsday Book account of wood pasture in Derbyshire as being very extensive. Ultimately, then, if not in origin, wood pasture has certainly resulted from biocultural stewardship in at least the last millennium. Increasing evidence in this volume makes the case for wood pasture origins in Europe dating back to glacial retreat from the last Ice Age – offering a distinct perspective than the more usual view of the continent being covered solely by dark forests. And the tantalising idea of another species of Homo, H. neanderthalensis, playing a role in treescape stewardship before, and with H. sapiens after their arrival – but that must remain fascinating speculation.

Rotherham (2024) makes the further point that to collaborate effectively with local communities on wood pasture issues, the first step is to better recognise the bio-cultural nature and heritage of these wood pasture treescapes. Describing the interplay of people and ecosystems especially in treescapes, Rotherham notes the importance of creating a sense of place. He further notes ‘twenty‐first century depopulation across Europe has resulted in rural landscapes that are seen as abandoned, with a return of trees and shrubs – but as these landscapes change through ecological successional or regenerative processes they are not returned to previous “natural” states … (that) often results in landscapes that have reduced biodiversity, due to lack of people-ecosystem interaction’.

Reduction in, or loss of, traditional management leads to loss of cultural knowledge and memories, and a reduction in biocultural heritage. This loss has been termed cultural severance (Rotherham 2008; Bridgewater and Rotherham 2019). A key consequence of cultural severance is that rather than enhancing biodiversity it can result in declines in biodiversity (species richness, loss of patchiness and loss of genetic diversity). On the other hand, cultural severance may promote the emergence of distinctive novel and recombinant ecosystems (Hobbs et al. 2013). But overall, the impacts of cultural severance on treescapes are, to quote Rotherham, ‘ … a recipe for disaster. Heritage is easily disrupted, compromised, or removed by inappropriate management and especially by modern machinery’.

All the foregoing, and the 347 pages of the volume, show that we cannot understand or manage nature well unless we see people as part of the warp and weft of ecosystems that make our landscapes. People, through individual and collective actions, can have influence in nature conservation – we do not (and should not) leave everything to ‘the government’. Understanding todays landscapes are multifunctional – and I would add biocultural – is crucial in promoting more sustainable and resilient treescapes through the Anthropocene.

Epilogue

Rotherham’s ambition that ‘it is hoped that researchers and others around the world, will find much (in this volume) that is of interest’ is a sound view. However, as with so many publications, the price may make the volume unattractive to researchers. The current pricing is reduced, so can be seen as a bargain. If you can afford it, buy the volume, read it, use it as a reference, and crucially implement the vast range of ideas within it. And, in any event, make sure your library obtains a copy. Certainly, publication of this volume is a great step on seeing both the trees for the forest and the forest for the trees, while making us think about the crucial role of treescapes in landscape mosaics, from the past to the present. And this is the case even if you are not a ‘treescaper’ but wetland lover, montane enthusiast, or semi-arid fanatic, or no matter what aspect of people and ecosystems in which you are interested.