2025-08-11 - Historic Awareness Of Climate Change ================================================= > When the forests go, everything goes--even the climate. You will > hear the learned deny this. Sober, scientific gentlemen will refute > the assertion. Grave and painstaking statisticians present data to > confound you. > > --Robert Chambers, 1923 I have been hearing about climate change denial since the early 1990's. I was surprised to learn that it is not a recent development. Outdoorsmen have been voices crying in the wilderness about the effects of deforestation and climate change since before my grandparents were born. See below for relevant quotes. The American Forests by John Muir (1897) ======================================== The cool shades of the forest give rise to moist beds and currents of air, and the sod of grasses and the various flowering plants and shrubs thus fostered, together with the network and sponge of tree roots, absorb and hold back the rain and the waters from melting snow, compelling them to ooze and percolate and flow gently through the soil in streams that never dry. All the pine needles and rootlets and blades of grass, and the fallen decaying trunks of trees, are dams, storing the bounty of the clouds and dispensing it in perennial life-giving streams, instead of allowing it to gather suddenly and rush headlong in short-lived devastating floods. The American Forests by John Muir (1897) The Sequoia and General Grant National Parks by John Muir (1901) ================================================================ [John Muir wrote that trees CAUSE weather and have a beneficial effect on the climate.] In the northern groves, the only ones that at first came under the observation of students, there are but few seedlings and young trees to take the places of the old ones. Therefore the species was regarded as doomed to speedy extinction, as being only an expiring remnant vanquished in the so-called struggle for life, and shoved into its last strongholds in moist glens where conditions are exceptionally favorable. But the majestic continuous forests of the south end of the belt create a very different impression. Here, as we have seen, no tree in the forest is more enduringly established. Nevertheless it is oftentimes vaguely said that the Sierra climate is drying out, and that this oncoming, constantly increasing drought will of itself surely extinguish King Sequoia, though sections of wood-rings show that there has been no appreciable change of climate during the last forty centuries. Furthermore, that Sequoia can grow and is growing on as dry ground as any of its neighbors or rivals, we have seen proved over and over again. "Why, then," it will be asked, "are the Big Tree groves always found on well-watered spots?" Simply because Big Trees give rise to streams. It is a mistake to suppose that the water is the cause of the groves being there. On the contrary, the groves are the cause of the water being there. The roots of this immense tree fill the ground, forming a sponge which hoards the bounty of the clouds and sends it forth in clear perennial streams instead of allowing it to rush headlong in short-lived destructive floods. Evaporation is also checked, and the air kept still in the shady Sequoia depths, while thirsty robber winds are shut out. Since, then, it appears that Sequoia can and does grow on as dry ground as its neighbors and that the greater moisture found with it is an effect rather than a cause of its presence, the notions as to the former greater extension of the species and its near approach to extinction, based on its supposed dependence on greater moisture, are seen to be erroneous. Indeed, all my observations go to show that in case of prolonged drought the sugar pines and firs would die before Sequoia. Again, if the restricted and irregular distribution of the species be interpreted as the result of the desiccation of the range, then, instead of increasing in individuals toward the south, where the rainfall is less, it should diminish. The Sequoia ... by John Muir (1901) When the Forests Go-- by Robert W. Chambers (1923) ================================================== When the forests go, everything goes--even the climate. You will hear the learned deny this. Sober, scientific gentlemen will refute the assertion. Grave and painstaking statisticians present data to confound you. On the other hand, that celebrated institution of our country, known in every cross-road hamlet throughout the land as "The Oldest Inhabitant," will confirm the statement in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. He will tell you that since his boyhood days the local climate has changed. Although I am not yet qualified by years and wisdom to take my seat among these reverend elders of the republic, still perhaps my life has covered a period sufficient to make some observations of mine not entirely uninteresting both to the local sage and to the soulless statistician. If these observations have any value at all, obviously their value is local. Therefore it is of locality that I venture to speak, of my own home in Northeastern New York State. Imitating the local oracle, I begin with "When I was a boy"--if nobody objects. And my first suggestion is that in my district the winters are longer and more severe, and the summers hotter and briefer, than in the days of my early youth--or any former days at all. The proofs I offer are these: A number of trees, shrubs, and flowers, which at that time grew and flourished in my district, are not now hardy in that climate. The common, fragrant Chinese Honeysuckle will not live there now unless heavily mulched. And even so it remains dwarfed and flowers sparsely, and sooner or later is winter-killed. This also is true of Forsythia or Golden Bell. And as for Wistaria, it is always winter-killed now. So is the Trumpet Vine and most roses. Shorter summers with hotter and briefer days, and colder nights, make the growing up of certain animals practically impossible, animals which flourished in my early days. s for farming, the shortening of summers are threatening both corn and potatoes with the blight of early frost. Nowhere is the hazard greater in farming than in my district where in my youth farming was a perfectly legitimate gamble. In those days, too, the sycamore grew there and the black walnut. The former, now, will not survive the winters; the latter only with difficulty, and it remains but a poor specimen of tree. My part of the country was the national home of the beech, maple, oak, and white pine. Nobody ever dreamed that cold could kill any of these hardy forest trees. In all the history of the colony and state I never had heard of cold weather killing any of these native trees of ours. But half a dozen years ago or so hundreds of great beeches, oaks, maples were killed by cold in my district--trees seventy years old, a hundred, two hundred and even older. Every tree in an apple orchard nearly a hundred years old was killed. And all this took place in my own woods and on my own place. I know of colonial and state records of arctic temperature in New York State. Often is cited the freezing of New York Bay, and the transportation by horses of heavy artillery across the ice to Governour's and Staten Islands. But, I think, what saved the forests in those days was the forest itself, and our full lakes and streams. But there were no great forests to save the splendid silvery beeches towering in my woods; and the water courses and reservoirs were only pitiable phantoms of what once they had been. And so our recording thermometers marked 56°F below zero; and my forest giants died where they stood, giants that had witnessed the fury of the Iroquois in their paint. Not all died--not even a considerable part of these ancient trees--and only a few of the first growth--some oaks, ash, and black cherry. Three men touching hands might encircle these ash and oak trees. But I am convinced that never before had climate done murder on our hardy northern trees; and that, had the vanished forests still stood, no murder would have been accomplished. Among other details which convince me that the local climate has changed and is changing--birds formerly visiting the district visit it no more or very rarely, I may mention the Scarlet Tanager, not uncommon in my boyhood, now a rare visitor. The Brown Thrasher, the Rose-breasted Grosbeak, even the Cardinal were to be seen and heard. They are to be seen and heard no longer there. As for butterflies--they and the moths are few compared to what once they were--few in numbers, fewer in species where once they swarmed. In my early youth I have seen milkweed bloom covered with the beautiful Argymus Idalia. In the last thirty years I have seen only one or two in a year--some years none at all. And once all the brilliant members of the Vanessa family were common; and all the lordly Swallowtails; and our gardens, at dusk, were full of Sphinx-moths and their feathery humming. It is different now. The Red Admiral comes but Milbert's butterfly seldom which once was so common. Turnus still lords it over the lilacs, but asterius which once jewelled acres of snowy buck-wheat bloom is no longer common. These few, brief observations may valueless to convince the scientist and statistician, but my friends the local sages and I agree that our climate has sadly changed and is still changing. We do not lay every loss and disaster to the ruthless slaughter or our forests; we know what imported pests have done to chestnut, white pine, and oak. We know that our Red-breasted pigeons are extinct, and we suspect the reason; but why does more than arctic cold come and kill trees in our few remaining woods--trees a hundred years old? * * * Not long ago I stood with a local wise man of great wisdom and vaster age; and I said: "Do you remember the fine Mulberry trees trees that grew on that spot?" "Yes." he said, "but you try to grow orange trees in this country today." * * * Thus, and with similar items of evidence, I am led to surmise that when the forests go, everything goes--even the climate. When the Forests Go-- by Robert W. Chambers (1923) Trees And Climate by Frank Holden (1926) ======================================== The United States. Bureau of Forestry says that trees are being cut off four times as fast as they are being grown. The papers are full of conservation articles telling of the things that will happen to the country when the trees are gone. They tell us that a country without trees is a land of torrid heat in summer, of streams that go dry the hot season, and are raging torrents when it rains, and of crops that burn up because of lack of moisture in the air. Very few of these articles, however, tell us just how trees come to have such a great influence on the climate and water supply. It is easy to realize that the roots of trees, forming a vast network underground, help to keep the ground from packing and thus gives the water a chance to soak into the ground instead of at once running into the water courses. Then, too, the dead leaves and branches on the ground form a spongy mass that is capable of soaking up an immense amount of water and feeding it into the ground slowly for some time after the rain has ceased. It is this water, held back by the trees and allowed to soak into the ground that reappears at some spring, maybe miles away, thus helping to keep the streams running during dry seasons. All this is easy to understand because we can see it to some extent. The thing we cannot see is the chemical laboratory hidden away in each tree leaf and the part it plays in purifying the air and keeping it filled with moisture These tiny laboratories take the water sent up to them by the roots, break it its component parts, hydrogen and oxygen, add the poisonous carbon dioxide gas from the air and thus form starch. As soon as the sun comes up in the morning these little starch factories start working and they work straight through to sundown, without time for lunch, because sunlight is the power they run on and this power must not be wasted. Each leaf has a system of pipes or tubes that carries the water sent up by the roots around through the leaves and return pipes that takes the starch in liquid form back down to be distributed through the tree even to the lowest roots. This liquid starch is the food on which the tree lives. If we bake a stick of wood until the hydrogen and oxygen have been driven out, we have left a stick of charcoal. This is almost pure carbon and all of it came from the carbon dioxide gas in the air. In addition to the work the leaf laboratories do in removing carbon dioxide from the air and thus purifying it for breathing purposes, two main by products are given off in the making of starch0--oxygen and water--the oxygen being in the same amount as the carbon dioxide taken from the air. The water evaporated by the leaves is the surplus sent up by the roots. An average sized oak tree will evaporate about 150 gallons of water per day. The effect that the water evaporated by the leaves has in tempering the heat of summer can hardly be imagined. To begin with, the leaves, because water is evaporating from them, are cooler than the surrounding air and the wind that blows across miles of forest wil be cooled considerably by contact with the leaves. Then, too, wind blowing through trees will pick up the moisture discharged by the leaves and so prevent the scorching effect we sometimes get from the hot winds that are likely to follow a long dry spell. A hot wind is merely wind without moisture. Trees And Climate by Frank Holden (1926) tags: biophilia,history,outdoor Tags ==== biophilia history outdoor