Animating the Forest

An "Ent" as depicted in the Lord of the Rings film series.

There are a couple of lingering topics from my week at Andrews Forest, and I want to return to one of them today.

During a follow up conversation with Frederick J. Swanson, one of the coordinators of the Long Term Ecological Reflections project at Andrews, he expressed interest in knowing more about ‘what I had to let go of’ when trying to consider the forest from a writer’s perspective, having been trained for so long to approach the forest as a scientist.

I’d say the most difficult impulse for me to follow – to put my faith in, so to speak -- was the desire to anthropomorphize the creatures around me, to animate them with human qualities.

It is very common for story tellers (and humans in general) to anthropomorphize animals and other non-human creatures. Walt Disney’s The Lion King, for example, imposes a human social structure and human behavior on lions and their cohorts in the grasslands of Africa, so that what appears to be a story about lions is, in fact, a story about humans dressed up as lions.

Disney, of course, does this with a lot of films; but I chose The Lion King is an example because the first animal social structure I learned about when I began my study of behavioral biology was in fact the lions.

Lions live in matriarchal prides, where territory is shared among sisters and passed from mothers to daughters. Males leave the pride when they reach reproductive age and live alone or in small groups (usually pairs of brothers) until they are able to challenge and replace the reproductive male of another pride. Upon ‘taking over’ a pride, a new male kills all the cubs in that pride, causing the females to enter their reproductive cycle earlier than they would have otherwise. The new male then has about two or three years to sire as many cubs as he can (and see them safely to maturity) before he, in turn, is booted out by a younger, healthier rival, who will then proceed to kill all the cubs that his predecessor sired.

Not the stuff of Disney movies, I suppose. But it was through the lions that I first realized most animals interact with each other in ways that are difficult to understand if measured by a human world view. We must use other tools – in this case, evolutionary theory – to make sense of their behavior.

The danger, for a scientist, of anthropomorphizing is that the moment we dress up another species with human qualities, we handicap our capacity to understand them on their own terms. So as a biologist, I have for years coached myself – and all my students – away from the habit of anthropomorphizing. (I might add that this is also the approach that the Magas and Mages of Eolyn’s world take; they do not impose human qualities on the plants and animals with which they interact; nor do I as the author.)

While I was in Andrews, whenever I found myself wanting to give voice and personality to the trees and other creatures, my first instinct was to back away. But this instinct ran contrary to the number one rule of any creative writer, which is not to censor yourself. In order to honor me-the-writer, I occasionally had to let go of me-the-scientist.

Anthropomorphizing may be treacherous ground for an ecologist, but it can be a powerful tool for the story teller. If used well in the attempt to relate something as complex as the experience of walking through a forest, the occasional anthropomorphic creature allows the reader a familiar thread that can help carry him or her through otherwise unknown territory. How many children, for example, came to love lions because of The Lion King? And would they have been so quick in their affection for this imposing predator, if the first thing they had learned about it was the customary massacre of all those sweet and playful cubs every time a new male takes over a pride?

While I appreciate the benefits of anthropomorphizing, something inside me cringes every time I see a movie – or read a story – where animals think, talk and act like humans. In my own work as a writer I try to avoid this, seeking a balance between making the creatures of Eolyn’s world accessible while respecting their fundamental non-human qualities.

An "Ent" of Andrews Forest

One of my favorite examples of a skillful anthropomorphism in fantasy is J.R.R. Tolkien’s Ents, the tree shepherds, which are essentially anthropomorphized trees. Tolkien allows Ents to wander through the forest, speak with hobbits, and even go to war. He hints at a loose social structure and the one-time existence of Ent-Wives.  Ent-Wives are very cool; they are credited with having taught the people of Middle Earth much about agriculture.  Nonetheless, a 'wife' is a kind of pointless concept for real trees, most of which have both male and female reproductive parts, and because the offspring take care of themselves, there’s no need for the pair bonding we tend to see in animals.

Despite all these human-like qualities, Ents never lose their essential tree-ness. I think that’s part of what gives Ents their immortality in our imagination, and why every time I enter a forest, I half expect to see one – whether I’m thinking like a scientist or not.



This is part of a series of reflections based on my experiences as a writer-in-residence at Andrews Experimental Forest in Oregon.  If you'd like to read more about my week-long stay at Andrews, check out the links under "Spring 2011 Residency at Andrew Forest" on the right-hand bar. 

Legends in the Making (or Why Every Fantasy Writer Needs a Good Forest)

Today I visited the fourth and final reflection plot, and area that was clear cut some years ago.  I'm going to let my thoughts on that experience simmer for a little while, and will come back to write about this final reflection plot tomorrow. 

Instead, I want to take a brief break from my essays and share with you some more of the great images my husband has caught with his ever-reliable digital camera -- just a few examples of the infinite opportunities a mature forest offers for the playful imagination.  Most of these photos come from hikes along the old growth trails of Andrews Forest.

Fans of Tolkien will be familiar with the Ents of Middle Earth.  As you might be glad to know, Ents are still alive and well in the oak forests of Talamanca in Costa Rica -- I have a few photos of them from my time there (although to the untrained eye they are almost indistinguishable from mature oaks).  I've been very pleased these past few days to find signs of remnant populations in the mountains of Oregon as well.  We did not come across any breeding adults (they may be hard to distinguish from the older firs), but we did spot this fledgling wrapped in warm moss just to my husband's left:

And this adolescent a little further down the same trail.  Perhaps they are siblings?

Old growth forests are, of course, full of wonderful ingredients for magic spells and potions, like this rust-colored morel, which is almost certainly essential for some dark and powerful spell as yet unknown to me:

Note the abundant lichens littering the forest floor around the mushroom, which are likely collected and used for similar purposes.  And of course, what witch's brew is complete without a plump little newt:

Though of course, I could NEVER toss this little guy into a boiling pot of water.  He's way too cute to suffer such a terrible fate. 

Here's a rather strange formation from an exposed root of a tree.  I'll let you decide what it could be, what it might mean, and how you'd like to use it in your next story.  (And if you'd like to share your ideas, please post in the comments below!)

Finally, when we weren't comuning with young and spritely Ents, we were talking to gnomes, which like the Douglas-firs grow to be quite large and old in this forest.  Here's one we managed to catch on film, standing just to the right of the trail:

That's it for today.  My stay at Andrews Forest is almost finished now.  One more full day tomorrow, and then we'll head to the coast for a night before returning to Portland and then to Kansas City.  I'd say tomorrow will be my last installment related to my residency here, but I'm not quite sure about that -- I have a feeling I'll be reflecting on my stay at Andrews for some time to come. 

I moved forward a bit more on my short story for Briana today.  I think it's going to be a nice one, and may post some excerpts here in the coming week or so. 

Next weekend is ConQuest in Kansas City!  I'll be participating in several panels as well as a Hadley Rille Authors Panel and a Book Signing Party on Saturday.  For details about my schedule at ConQuest, as well as other upcoming events, please visit my author's page on Amazon.