Review: "Forest Walking," Peter Wohlleben

By Paul Carrier

I’ve always been enthralled by woodlands, and never more so than a couple of years ago when I read Richard Powers’ powerful novel The Overstory, which explores the almost magical sophistication of trees.

So Forest Walking, German forester Peter Wohlleben’s nonfiction guide to the trees and wooded areas of North America, is right up my alley. Or should I say right down my path?

Released in English in 2022 with an invaluable assist from researcher and translator Jane Billinghurst, Forest Walking follows the publication of Wohlleben’s The Hidden Life of Trees, a bestseller in which he argued (according to reviews) that trees share nutrients, have families, communicate with one another and are sentient.

The Hidden Life of Trees came under attack from some experts, who alleged that Wohlleben anthropomorphized trees without a sound scientific basis for doing so. If Forest Walking is any indication, Wohlleben has not backed down from his earlier assertions.

“When I talk of the forest,’ Wohlleben writes in the introduction to Forest Walking, “I’m talking about a community. In a forest left to its own devices, trees of different ages and different species grow in the places they choose and that suit them best.  Huge mother trees provide their children with the conditions they need to grow up slowly, which leads to strong, healthy individuals.”

Wohlleben writes in a conversational style while giving readers ample exposure to his view that trees are complex creatures endowed with skills and powers that may easily go unnoticed during a casual, inattentive stroll through the woods. In fact, Forest Walking is chockablock with page after page of wondrous revelations.

For example, what appear to be individual trees in a forest sometimes are “a collection of shoots growing from a single massive root system.” In effect, one gigantic tree may be spread out over a large surface area, creating the illusion of multiple trees.

And there's more. Much more. If a tree’s outer bark is thin and smooth enough for light to penetrate it, the tree can use its green inner bark for photosynthesis, a process we normally associate with leaves. Wohlleben tells us that trees have small openings in their bark “through which the trunk breathes,” that trees slumber in a “deep, restorative sleep” at night, and that trees let their branches drop by as much as four inches while relaxed overnight.

Oak trees pump bitter tannins into their leaves when caterpillars attack, and send out “chemical messages” seeking help from parasitic wasps that fly in and lay their eggs in the offending caterpillars. When the eggs hatch, the wasp larvae “eat their way out of their hosts, putting an end to the caterpillar buffet.”

The author notes that children learning to identify trees do not have to rely exclusively on their leaves and needles. In some cases, depending on the species, kids can “munch as well as look.” It’s safe to eat the new growth “from many native trees,” Wohlleben writes. Each species “has its own distinctive flavor,” creating a “yummy field guide.”

There’s more to woodlands than the intricacies of tree behavior, of course, and a book entitled Forest Walking must take human and animal activity into account. Wohlleben includes chapters on activities for children, exploring a forest at night, recognizing seasonal changes, spotting and appreciating wildlife (large and small) and surviving in the woods.

Forest Walking provides tips on how to safely (and wisely) hike trails, and explains how best to minimize the risk of injury while bushwhacking. But the author’s culinary recommendations may be off-putting, unless you’re tempted to try munching on beetle larvae. Pill bugs, we’re told, can be eaten raw, but Wohlleben recommends that they be sautéed in a pan “with a little oil.”

In a mere 200 or so pages, Wohlleben provides a wealth of information —  scientific, advisory, or simply extraordinary — about the remarkable world of forests. At the very least, Forest Walking is sure to enhance readers’ forays into the woods and, in all probability, make them more attentive while there than they ever were in the past.