Let's stop counting trees?

As the world's forests shrink daily under the relentless demands of insatiable production and profit, we frequently encounter staggering statistics about deforestation. A commonly cited fact is this: "1.4 billion trees are being cut down in the Amazon every year." But how does this shape our understanding of trees, and the natural world at large? Consider another example: "One whale can sequester about 30 tons of carbon in its lifetime."

Can a tree exist as merely an individual? Can it thrive alone, standing solitary against the elements? As you read this, you might glance at the tree outside your window (if you are fortunate enough to have one there) and think, "Of course, it can!" But let me ask: can you live without your family, friends, partners, and those who are integral to your life? Humans can adapt to many circumstances; millions endure poverty because they have no other choice. Yet, do we call that truly living?

Trees function as part of a society, intricately connected in ways that science is just beginning to fathom. Their relationships of sharing, nurturing, and caring for one another are astonishing. Imagine the silent agony of a tree planted alone, deprived of its companions. How its roots must yearn for connection! Can whales thrive as individuals? These majestic creatures travel in pods, care for one another during childbirth and maternity, protect each other, and sing their haunting songs together. Can we simply disperse an 'adequate' number of whales across the oceans and 'use' them to combat climate change?

If we look at other life forms as more than individuals that can be counted, and as the society, culture, way of life they represent, perhaps then only we can begin to heal our relationship with nature, and once again start learning from them like most of ancestors did.

“When trees grow together, nutrients and water can be optimally divided among them all so that each tree can grow into the best tree it can be. If you "help" individual trees by getting rid of their supposed competition, the remaining trees are bereft. They send messages out to their neighbors in vain, because nothing remains but stumps. Every tree now muddles along on its own, giving rise to great differences in productivity. Some individuals photosynthesize like mad until sugar positively bubbles along their trunk. As a result, they are fit and grow better, but they aren't particularly long-lived. This is because a tree can be only as strong as the forest that surrounds it. And there are now a lot of losers in the forest. Weaker members, who would once have been supported by the stronger ones, suddenly fall behind. Whether the reason for their decline is their location and lack of nutrients, a passing malaise, or genetic makeup, they now fall prey to insects and fungi. But isn't that how evolution works? you ask. The survival of the fittest? Their well-being depends on their community, and when the supposedly feeble trees disappear, the others lose as well. When that happens, the forest is no longer a single closed unit. Hot sun and swirling winds can now penetrate to the forest floor and disrupt the moist, cool climate. Even strong trees get sick a lot over the course of their lives. When this happens, they depend on their weaker neighbors for support. If they are no longer there, then all it takes is what would once have been a harmless insect attack to seal the fate even of giants.”― Peter Wohlleben, The Hidden Life of Trees: