Once at Auburn University, Dr. Dyer took an entire Thermodynamics class on a field trip to a paper mill near Montgomery, Alabama. Anyone who's been downwind of one of these plants knows their most distinguishing feature. But Dyer wanted to showcase another aspect of the plant - its incredible efficiency.
In the lumber yard, a continuous convoy of semis was delivering a forest of felled pine trees stripped of their branches. As these trucks meandered through the receiving line, clawed cranes lifted their entire load from their beds and dropped them into massive horizontal barrels. Once in the barrels, these 50' trunks were tumbled like clothes in a dryer. The bark knocked off the trunks in this non-delicates cycle dropped through slots in the barrel. This was all collected and used as a fuel source for the plant.
In another line, the now de-barked logs were run through an industrial shredder that reduced them into manageable chunks. These made their way on conveyor belts and dropped into massive pots where they were literally cooked in a stew of chemicals that I had no doubt were responsible for the heady aroma of the facility. This process dissolved lignin, the organic glue holding the wood fibers together. The wood cellulose could now be separated and finally processed into paper.
Meanwhile, the "soup" left from cooking the wood chunks was also burned as fuel for plant operations. The resulting ash was reconstituted with water and more chemicals before being recycled into "cooking" the next batch of wood chips. Again, incredibly efficient.
The plant ran 24/7 363 days a year, shutting down only on Christmas and Easter. While Dr. Dyer wanted to showcase the operational and thermal efficiency of the operation, what left a lasting and profound impression on me was how efficiently swaths of forest could be turned into cardboard.
I've had the privilege of walking through a stand of primeval pines in New Brunswick. That cheesy pine scent in cleaning supplies is a wispy shadow of the real thing coming off old-growth trees. Just standing there, literally breathing it all in, I found myself starting to feel pretty good. I almost felt I could run a marathon. Almost. Apparently, turpenes, molecules found in natural pine scent, have been suggested to be mood enhancers and have proven to be effective bronchodilators that make breathing easier.
Maybe I've become a tree hugger in my later years. Maybe I'm just my father's son. Dad once told me his dream job out of the Navy would have been a forest ranger. Whatever the case, certain stories get my hackles up.
Recently, the 300-year-old Sycamore Gap Tree, also called the "Robin Hood Tree" because of its appearance in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, was cut down by vandals.
In 2011, because his football team lost to Auburn, Harvey Updyke poisoned and killed the iconic 76-year-old oak trees on Toomers Corner, adjacent to the Auburn University campus.
Lastly, while I'm trying to be understanding, I freely admit I'm still a little salty about the loss of my tree at the end of Island View in Long Beach.
I get it. At the end of the day, we need to harvest portions of our forests to supply a portion of the raw materials we use every day. Moreover, a number of lumber companies, recognizing it's in their corporate best interests, are proponents of sustainably managed forests.
I know it's a personal sentiment, and it may be an unpopular opinion running afoul of property rights, but I believe certain trees just should not be touched. The redwoods in California are a national treasure. A single bristle cone pine, also on the west coast, is recognized as being the oldest living organism on the planet. The 500-year-old "Friendship Oak" on the Gulf Coast campus of USM is the oldest tree in the state of Mississippi. The majesty of these trees and the sweep of history witnessed by these and other sentinels has earned them a right to continue their vigil.
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