Redwood Reader

5. The Healing Power of Nature Part I
I must admit I am much less pessimistic about the future now than I was a few months ago, at least as far as destroying our supporting habitat was concerned. Twenty years of assisting nature recover from repeated insults to the wilderness landscape had left me feeling I might stabilize some situations but I would never be able to fully restore the class one coho stream. All I could do was assist vegetation and try to contain road runoff in the winter, possibly rock armor stream crossings. Lots of time and effort, but not much money, were spent on marginal or inadequate water diversion and in-stream projects.
Some or most of the trees died every time we put them out, until we understood it took trees dying to restore nutrients and health into the soil, alder trees dying as they channeled the force of the creek, trees being depended on to provide large woody debris, trees dying as a result of unstable land, trees dying from a lack of shade. Every winter we wondered what new was about to shake loose.
One thing we could be sure of- the place was not going to be a desert. Vegetation proliferated at an amazing rate, so out of control it is now a fuel hazard in some areas. We tried to get some trees in the ground every winter but Ceanothus filled in large areas. It grew in so thick a person could barely crash through the brush without getting scratched up. It was good for the soil, even to an untrained eye, the baked clay was topsoil again, and clumpy to the squeeze. As the Ceanothus matured the ground slowly stabilized, and we had fewer slides. Tanoak stump sprouts jumped into bushes and then coppice; together with Ceanothus providing solid cover in some areas.
The barren creek bottom was coming alive as well with coyote brush and alder being given an extra human assist by direst seeding. A few fir trees above the burnt stretches had been generating seed, and a few planted survivors were taking hold. Every year a few firs would produce seed and a few would make through the first year. As the seed trees were young we didn’t have massive seeding and subsequent high germination rates, just a few here and there. A few willows sprang up along the creek banks, but it generally bothered me there was very little riparian forbs or shrubs.
Restoration veterans assured me my creek would flow year round again once conifers had been established in the riparian zone, although large hardwoods are actually as effective, quicker growing and provide shade and important salmonid food through insect activity. But I couldn’t prevent the creek from destabilizing overhanging banks, or relieve the vertical slopes created in some areas. I hit the books, and then the internet.
I was particularly interested in landslides, with my eyes open to any thing related to the situation. There was not too much, mostly sheer stress tests and some discussion on different trees rooting style. This at least explained the staying power of the bedrock seeking live oaks, while the laterally rooted firs slid in bunches. But it was obvious something made the soil liquefy easily that was causing all the slides, mass wasting and debris torrents.
The next big discovery was the world of mycorhizzia and its function in the forest, and associations with trees, especially Douglas fir. Over three thousand species of fungi associate with Douglas fir, some commercially valuable. Seven species of fungi were found on sites along a .5 cm piece of root. These fungi spread through the environment creating a mat of mycelium, actually hyphae seeking nutrients for the symbiotic tree. Now I understood filaments running through the soil transporting sugars down and water and dissolved nutrients up to the tree, holding water, hiding beneficial bacteria from predators, and acting as graze for a world of soil organisms form springtails to earthworms, millipedes and centipedes, among others. Somehow this skinny mycelia mat was holding the ground together It appeared to let go if the ground was disturbed in a major way, or if collected runoff headed downhill unimpeded.
It was becoming clear land practices were mostly concerned with draining land into rivers as quickly as possible, and that this was hurting biological systems. Road drainages and mechanical scarring from skidding played havoc with naturally designed swales, creating flood zones and dry areas randomly across the landscape and creating concentrated runoff. It appeared the water was leaving as runoff before it got a chance to soak into the ground, and this was lowering local water tables and stream flows later in the year. I investigated recharge ponds in the wild lands and sumps to go along roads.
All the while the trees are growing, and planting continued even though it is getting harder to find open areas. There are plenty of areas that should be upgraded, such as the Ceanothus zones. The riparian redwood planting should be enhanced, if anything, for durability of the freshly restoring eco-zone. There was always belief re-vegetation was the only way to restore the situation.
Finally proof was found this indeed was the case. Soil glue, or glomalin was discovered. A truly miraculous little molecule that ties up everything from landslides, disappearing springs and drying creeks to fungi to trees and sunlight, water and carbon dioxide, soil and fuel moisture content; from my property to global warming. Created by plants and fungi around the world, manufactured at high speed under heightened carbon dioxide concentrations, aggregator of soils creating water storage in the root zones of plants, and durable to boot, glomalin is literally the glue holding the landscape together. Glomalin is destroyed by common land practices and is reverted to carbon dioxide. Glomalin is created by the hyphae forming mycelia mats, created to strengthen the fungi to span pores, then sloughing off as the hyphae die in a week or two. The glomalin binds the soil and persists for decades. We took a look at our property with the new knowledge.