Rooted Tension: A Crisis in Missoula's Urban Forest
By Kalle Fox. This story was collected as part of a 2023 open call for submissions. It is one of 17 stories that were selected to be published.
If trees had a human-like conscience, I theorize that the evergreen species occupying the foothills of the Missoula Valley judge our deciduous residents with utmost contempt. They may even hold more disdain than a generational rancher holds towards any car with a California license plate passing them along I-90.
The Ponderosa Pines of the valley question the transplants’ legitimacy, rhetorically asking them if they’ve ever seen a wildfire, much less survived one. Or ten. Or a genocide. The Norway Maples that line the neighborhoods from the University district to Reserve Street say nothing in their defense, merely blush in the face of autumn, their leaves transforming into a fiery color palette. The evergreen don’t target the native deciduous species, though. Not the cottonwoods that line the Clark Fork River and its surrounding tributaries, nor the Western Larch that share in the Douglas and Ponderosa gossip.
The motives for building an urban forest weren’t sinister: it provides additional wildlife habitat and areas of shade that reduce surface and air temperatures; sequesters carbon from the atmosphere into their bodies; reduces stormwater runoff and improves drainage along the valley floor; and offers feel-good aesthetics for the human community, because plants in a built environment are never not an aesthetic. Over the last few decades, however, through arduous legal battles and conservation efforts, Montana forests had to be protected by the same species who initially cut down their brethren, who then subsequently imported the newbies. So, the evergreen disdain for their non-native counterparts is understandable.
I concede that the transplanted species, some 22,000 of them, can’t seem to cooperate with each other. This is no Northeastern or Midwestern unit of deciduous forestry. Rates of change differ from tree to tree, and by the time some are beginning to shift from a bright, pure-of-heart green to a yellow that had a one-night stand with orange, some have already departed to the streets, to be swept up for composting. They’re still getting their bearings, despite being here longer than half of the present human population. But it’s not their fault–the glacial valley floor wasn’t built for arboreal supremacy. Don’t you think they want to be accepted, to contribute to the collective wellbeing of the community, to belong somewhere? And don’t you think they know that their ability to thrive comes at the expense of someone who’s been there longer?
Portions of the urban forest are dying, however. The Norway Maples on the tail end of their 120-year-lifespan. They theoretically can live longer, but the climate zones and average temperatures in Montana are not what they were when the first Maple was planted in 1874. Some human residents acknowledge their value, collectively organizing to water and prune the elders. Some strategize to make the urban forest work on the inherently unsuitable valley floor, such as using bare-root trees and gravel beds. An Urban Forest Master Plan was created by the City years ago, and the Parks and Rec department is in the process of removing trees from the urban forest and repurposing their lumber into trail signage and benches. Soon they must decide: who will succeed them when the climate reaper comes? Do they continue the Maple legacy, despite their overrepresentation in the community forest? Do they plant more of the less-populous species, like the Green Ash or Siberian Elm? Or, in light of the gradual climate shifts, select species more suited for higher temperatures and dryer heat? Or, bring the Ponderosas and Douglas and Rocky Mountain Juniper back, trusting their resilience for what’s to come?
With respect to the ecological history of the valley prior to white American settlement, I can’t help but root (pun not intended) for a legacy where non-natives and natives work together to adapt and thrive in the face of anthropocentric challenges. It’s a mission not just for the future of Montana’s urban forests, but the future of the West, as transplants like myself search for a place to root, to contribute to the health of a community’s ecosystem, as opposed to being an invasive, unhelpful, unwanted species that dominates and destroys.
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Sources:
Trees for Missoula
2015 City of Missoula, Montana Urban Forest Master Management Plan
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Kalle Fox is a non-native transplant from the tropics of South Florida, and has been living in Montana since 2019. An aspiring writer with a B.A. in Anthropology and M.S. in Environmental Studies, her writing examines all the ways our physical surroundings shape our relationship to land, sense of place, people, and the self. Fox's works have been published with SAGE Magazine and Deepwild Literary Journal. Oftentimes, she would rather connect with land than with humans.