Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 84Plough Quarterly • Autumn 2016 65 R e v i e w s Editors’ Picks The Hidden Life of Trees Peter Wohlleben (Greystone) It turns out, biologically speak- ing, that humans aren’t all that exceptional. We finally decoded the genome, only to discover that we share 97 percent of it with the field mouse and 60 percent with the common fruit fly. A recent spate of pop-science books sets out to remind us not only that we are descended from fish and apes but, yes, that animals are people too. We now know that few of the things we thought made us special – language, technical ability, social and emotional complexity, a sense of time – are unique to our species. Carl Safina’s Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel brings us dolphins and elephants that grieve. In Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are?, zoologist Frans de Waal implies that most zoologists preceding him were not, devising tests for clever bonobos and gibbons unjustly biased toward a human skill set. And Jennifer Ackerman’s The Genius of Birds shows how much we have underestimated the bird brain. To anyone who’s ever had a pet dog, none of these discoveries come as a great surprise. Now this. Trees, too, may have feelings, and seemingly complex social lives as well. They love, grieve, talk, warn each other of danger, share resources with struggling neighbors, nurture their offspring, and support aging parents. When German forester Peter Wohlleben stopped going by the logging textbook and started listening to what his trees were trying to tell him, a whole new world opened up. For one, the beeches native to his Central European forest actually want to grow closely together. If one tree is diseased or struggling on poor soil, its neighbors pass it nutrients, banding together to maintain the canopy that keeps sun and wind out and precious moisture in. Each species competes ruthlessly with other species, and each has its natural enemies. Yet trees also enjoy a host of mutually beneficial relationships with fungi and insects. If attacked by a particular caterpillar, the oak releases a scent to summon a specific wasp to lays its eggs in the pests. Oaks and beeches throughout a forest can conspire to withhold their seeds for several years at a time to starve deer and boar populations that would otherwise eat all the acorns and beechnuts. When giraffes come to browse, umbrella thorn acacias start producing a foul-tasting toxin in their leaves. They also release a gas, ethylene, onto the breeze to alert nearby trees to start producing the same toxin. (The giraffes have learned to skip a few trees or move upwind.) When it comes to how trees “think” or where their “brain” or “memory” resides, Wohlleben veers into speculation. He notes that not unlike our own neurons, roots have been overheard transmitting electrical impulses – at 220 hertz – to which other plants react, and that scientists now believe these communications are facilitated by a “wood-wide web” of fungal mycelium. Whether or not such comparisons to human intelligence are overblown, Wohlleben’s fascinating book is a good place to start to recover a sense of wonder toward the created world around us. Unashamed LeCrae (B&H) Where are unchurched millen- nials hearing a gospel-informed perspective on society, politics, and culture? Many are likely getting it from Lecrae, the hip hop artist who is proving that