Seeing the wood for the trees: Why we shouldn’t mourn every felled oak
Trees are emotive, as the furore over the Toby Carvery oak and the Sycamore gap prove. But a political obsession with planting trees is getting in the way of proper maintenance of our ancient woodland, says David Cracknell
It was last week’s row over the Toby Carvery oak that got me thinking again about the persistent misunderstandings that cloud our relationship with trees in this country. The outrage was swift and emotional, much like it was following the felling of the Sycamore Gap tree last year.
These controversies stir something deep in the British public: trees carry symbolism, myth, memory and place. But they also reveal how wildly disconnected our public conversation has become from the ecological realities of woodland management.
There is a failure – not just among the public, but policymakers, commentators and even some arborists – to grasp a few basic facts about how trees live, die and regenerate. Until we address this, our woodland policy will continue to falter, no matter how many trees we plant.
Because the truth is: we don’t just need more trees. We need to understand, protect, and rejuvenate the ancient and native forests we already have. Less than a quarter of forests in England are under sustainable management. The political obsession with planting – especially large-scale plantations of fast-growing, non-native species – is short-sighted and risks repeating the very mistakes that devastated British woodlands throughout the 20th century.
Take the attempted sell-off of Forestry Commission land under David Cameron’s government in 2011. The backlash was fierce and justified. But what was often missed in the debate was the nature of the forests in question: many were non-native conifer plantations – ecologically poor, the legacy of a century-old policy to boost domestic timber supplies. As Alec Dauncey outlines his study Forestry Policy: Hindsight, Forethought and Foresight, this model of strategic afforestation with Sitka spruce created vast monocultures ill-suited to Britain’s native ecology.
A major course correction came in 1985 with the Broadleaves Policy, thanks to the efforts of ecologist George Peterken and historian Oliver Rackham. Until then, ancient woodlands were routinely razed to make way for imported conifers. In a masterstroke of narrative, they coined the term “ancient woodland”, defining it as woodland existing since 1600 – the point from which maps were accurate enough to confirm continuity. It was both a scientific classification and a PR intervention that changed the language of conservation.
Still, misunderstanding persists. In a widely circulated YouTube video, Nigel Farage accuses the Woodland Trust of “eco-vandalism madness” for taking a chainsaw to oak trees. In truth, the Trust is simply doing what Britons have done for centuries: practicing traditional silviculture through selective thinning. These acts aren’t about destruction but regeneration. And here’s a key fact: most native British trees – oak, ash, hazel, hornbeam – are broadleaf species that naturally regenerate when cut. That’s the foundation of coppicing, an ancient and sustainable woodland tradition.
Most native British trees – oak, ash, hazel, hornbeam – are broadleaf species that naturally regenerate when cut
If ever there was a great British tradition to protect, it would be this, Mr Farage. But, of course, no politician would be brave enough to fight for natural regeneration of woodlands: because it would necessitate culling the cute furry herbivores (squirrels and deer) that hoover up the fresh tree shoots and gnaw the bark. Ministers do not kill Bambi.
It isn’t the chainsaw which poses the greatest threat to native woodlands; it’s neglect. Many ancient woodlands have declined into dark, stagnant thickets. Without regular canopy openings, sunlight fails to reach the forest floor. Biodiversity plummets. And in that weakened state, trees become increasingly vulnerable to disease. Ash dieback is just one example of a broader crisis in neglected woodland ecology.
Ecological stagnation
This ecological stagnation has been compounded by fragmentation. Estate agents now carve up woods into acre-sized plots for hobbyist owners looking for a tax break and a place to BBQ. Guilty as charged: in 2017 I bought an eight-acre patch of ancient woodland in Kent. That personal purchase sent me down a rabbit hole – to a Masters in Forest Ecology, to publishing a paper in the Journal of Ecology, and to becoming, somewhat by accident, one of the world’s leading researchers on Ash dieback. At first, I could only admire the trees and wouldn’t dare to fell a single one; yet I soon found myself hungry to understand everything about the woods and now hanker for clearings, log piles and bird song.
This trend is becoming more visible. In Channel 4’s Sandi’s Great British Woodland Restoration, Sandi Toksvig and her wife Debbie document their own journey of buying and restoring a 40-acre ancient woodland. The series follows their efforts to revive it – digging wildlife ponds, managing deer (euphemism for a Bambi massacre), felling overgrown trees – and in doing so, shows how individuals can meaningfully engage with ecological recovery albeit in a very small way.
France offers a better model. It never lost touch with its silvicultural traditions. French oaks are nursed like royalty – pruned, spaced, and grown over centuries. If a French oak is felled, it’s part of a cycle – its timber used in architecture or furniture, its absence allowing sunlight for the next generation. One particularly promising model is futaie irrégulière (irregular high forest), which advocates for uneven-aged, mixed-species stands and continuous cover management – enhancing both biodiversity and long-term timber quality. In Britain, by contrast, our unmanaged oaks are declining. When I went to English Woodlands Timber in Sussex for oak to build a dining table, the only quality timber I could find in the right dimensions was from Croatia.
You can’t import ancient woodland
Despite the rhetoric, British forestry policy still leans heavily toward plantation silviculture and imported conifers. Natural regeneration – our woods’ own way of healing – gets scant support. Vague terms like “multi-purpose forestry” and “low-impact silviculture” pepper strategy papers, but this rhetoric lacks the practical guidance foresters need.
Let’s be clear: no Sitka spruce plantation will ever match the richness of an ancient woodland. The true path forward is care, not numbers. Coppicing, halo-thinning, ride management (creating paths), and veteran tree care aren’t glamorous, but they work. They build resilient ecosystems over time.
Britain’s love of trees is real, but it needs to grow up. We need an ecological maturity that sees a felled tree not just as loss, but as renewal. The oak doesn’t stand for stillness – it stands for regeneration.
David Cracknell is former political editor of The Sunday Times and MSc Forest Ecology. His Substack on forestry and woodlands ‘Stump Speech’ launches this week.