Developers can’t see forest for trees
I think that I shall never see a tree, not if I hang around long enough. Oh, sure, I see a lot of trees now; just not enough of them, and fewer soon.
The ones I care the most about are on Bloor St. W. They are oldgrowth black oak, part of the rare and internationally significant prairie sand savannah that is High Park; the trees in question are also genetically important for the health of their neighbours just across the way. They are doomed. Why? Because there is a condo going up and the developer wants to cut them down. The developer is Daniels Corporation, and here is your easy irony: the symbol of the development is a stylized tree, and the slogan of the development is, “Where modern urban meets mother nature.”
And that’s why this is a minorleague town; developers always cut down these trees over here, so that condo dwellers may see those trees over there.
An aside: you’d think there would be architects in this town clever enough to design something profitable, and architecturally interesting, on this site without damaging the sylvan heritage the developer is trying to sell.
I am, of course, anticipating the slaughter of the trees because the matter is before the Ontario Municipal Board, and when has the OMB ever stood for the people, or the trees? Now, an update. You remember Eric Davies. He’s a doctoral student in forestry at the University of Toronto. He is smarter about trees than I am, and his concern is, therefore, more informed than mine.
He showed me the results of a natural heritage study, required for the site; alas, the study contains no fieldwork and does not address the various flora and fauna across three seasons, as is required by the city. No point now. Barn door, horse. Eric and I were discussing these matters on the site, in front of some shiny new hoarding on Bloor St., near Pacific Ave., and I do not know what it says about Daniels Corporation or about its contractors, but there was a sloppy litter of nails and screws on the sidewalk, and also in the gutter, left there after the hoarding was put up; careful where you step, careful where you park. Sigh. All winter, the roots of these old trees have held reserves of sugars, just as they have for the last 200 years; now, as the weather becomes warmer, those sugars are rising as sap, in order to spark the growth of new buds, and to aid in the healing of broken branches and winter wounds. Oh, poor trees, you have no idea what wounds await you. An aside: a while back I bumped into the councillor for the area, Sarah Doucette. She is a chipper person, and the city’s tree advocate. I said it would be a shame to lose these trees, and their genes. She said it might be possible to save some of the seeds. She, of course, meant acorns, and she had better hope the old oaks are not cut down until the fall, because there are no acorns now, this being spring. Oh well, if the city can’t or won’t do anything to save the trees, Eric has been busy. He prepared a study of his own; it has the endorsement of the urban forestry department at the university. He was aiming for a blend of pragmatism and compromise. He identified three of the old oak for replanting nearby, and they are serious trees; their absence on the construction site would create some space, and their salvation would ensure at least some genetic diversity. It would also cast the developer as a saviour of nature. Eric did some digging and found a company in Texas that specializes in the replanting of ancient trees. The hitch? It would cost roughly $100,000 apiece to replant the three trees. Daniels isn’t interested. More irony: to move three trees would cost $300,000; can you guess the starting price of the cheapest condo in the development? What’s a tree worth? A final note: according to the developer’s tree expert, “There is no direct interface between High Park and the subject lands.” Yes, and any person who holds that opinion is clearly unaware of how pollination happens among black oak trees; unaware also of the little junco that flitted across the interface and headed for High Park.