The Crest
Chapter 23: Electricity in the Tree Tops

“Let us begin this meeting by taking a moment of silence for our fallen comrades,” the team leader Danielle said.

After a minute, she began the meeting.

The surviving members of NOPSC, the Northwest Plant Sensory and Communication Working Group, convened at 9:00 am for a satellite phone call. The mood was morose, there were only six of the original ten members left, the others dead or in hiding. Present were members from the last remaining universities and FORC. Each institution barricaded to the hilt; each on the verge of collapse. They united around a few simple ideas of their profession — to choose their own mindset in the gravest of situations, and to use reason amid catastrophe.

“Our satellite connections are spotty with the fighting going on so we need to be concise. First off, I’d like you to know that the Fort Collins national seed bank is under attack.”

The crowd on the other end of the satellite phone call said nothing.

“Science is disappearing across our homeland, but its not dead. Despite the Shift and the war, I wanted to thank all of you. You are foremost scientists, never to be intimidated, critical thinkers to the end... I’m proud of you. You carry the flame, hold it, and protect it for as long as you can.”

The group acknowledged her words.

Why don’t we start with Michelle down in Springfield?”

“Thank you, Danielle, well since we last met, we’ve had some breakthroughs at our McKenzie Research Natural Area in Springfield. We have positively detected electric pulses coming from the old growth ‘mother’ trees in that area.”

“I’m not sure I understand, we all know that trees produce electricity, so how are these pulses different?”

“Well, first of all they move from tree top to tree top. We used electrodes attached to the top of two-hundred-foot Douglas Fir trees. The electrodes detect the voltage coming from each tree and then transfer the data to our computers back in the laboratory. We think that the pH imbalance between the plant xylem and phloem forms the current. We know from our research that calcium variations in the cell membranes amplify the signal by triggering action potentials.”

“You’re sure of this transmission across the treetops?”

“Not only are we sure, but we are seeing significant transmissions from mother tree to mother tree,” the scientist explained.

“I’m not following.” Danielle said.

“If the mother tree can somehow amplify its electronic signal, it now has the potential to transmit an electric impulse across an entire forest of large trees. And that is what they appear to have done. This is like DC in the old days when Westinghouse and Edison were fighting. DC could only traverse a brief transmission range. Our trees can produce 200 millivolts but they can only transmit a short distance. The bottom line is that plants can send warnings to other plants, including those of other species, using electrical signals sent on the surface of their leaves and branches.”

“Only now you’re talking about transmitting electricity through the air and across gaps?”

“Correct. Our electrodes attached to our largest Douglas Fir trees captured it.”

“Walk me through it,” Danielle said.

“So, the analogy is DC transmission. As I mentioned, DC can only move short distances and our trees can only produce about 200 millivolts under normal circumstances, but these are not normal circumstances, and the trees are hard-pressed.”

“Don’t we have to stimulate them to move current, somehow expose them to some stressor?”

“Correct, the stressor is the big question mark. The trees send out their signals on the needle surfaces and of course DC doesn’t travel over a hundred feet, but that’s the distance they need if they’re communicating to nearby trees. Anyway, they seem to transmit back and forth but here is the odd thing,” the researcher paused. “The electric pulses we are picking up are systematic, sent in an organized manner.”

“Like a signal.”

“Exactly.”

“What might the trees be signaling?”

“No clue, but undoubtedly some sort of stress and like I said the pulses are systematic. We think it’s a mimic of other sounds in nature like locusts or birds. We’ve traced it to a mimicry of northern spotted owls. I’d like to play something for you. Here is a northern spotted owl recording. Spotted owls can generate up to thirteen different hooting, barking, and whistling calls. Here is their barking call.”

The researchers on the satellite phone listened, transfixed on the spotted owl barking.

“Did you hear that?” Michelle asked.

“Absolutely, it sounds almost like a loop of dog bark.”

“Good, so that was a northern spotted owl recording. Now here is the mimic picked up by our bioacoustics recorders on the tree. The tree is still sending out a 200-millivolt electric current, but in a sequence and it follows the pattern of a northern spotted owl.”

They listened to the recording of the tree.

“That’s truly amazing. They sound similar in their cadence.”

“Correct, but you are aware of the ramifications of this, correct?”

“Not really,” Danielle replied.

“First, it’s suggesting that trees can synchronize their electric currents. Second, it’s suggesting that synchrony comes from sensing their surroundings. The idea that trees are sentient.”

“You’re suggesting that trees are sensitive and responding to their surroundings.”

“Of course, that’s not new. What is new is the idea that trees can make decisions. They have memories in their cells.”

“What kind of decisions? What kind of memories? I’m intrigued.”

“Memories about drought, memories about wind storms, memories about temperature — and about sounds around them, like spotted owls. Further, trees exchange information through their fungal networks, and they have something equivalent to emotions.”

“Emotions, that’s a pretty hefty statement.”

“Not emotions in the human sense but biochemical emotions that allow them to have a consciousness and make decisions. I’ll credit the German, Australian, and Canadian scientists for that. You’ve heard how plants respond well to Mozart, well, this is along those same consciousness lines. You see trees have always been viewed as a passive, lower life form but that simply isn’t true. It’s us humans that still don’t get it.”

“So, you’re picking up sounds in the form of electric pulses?”

“Yes, kind of, we’re picking up short duration voltage using an electromagnetic pulse detector, and we have a hypothesis that they can somehow interact with radio waves.”

“Radio waves?” Danielle asked.

“Radio waves are nothing more than high-frequency electric currents so to speak, so hypothetically, based on what we’ve detected, these trees could interact with a transmitter under the right conditions.”

“How so?” Danielle asked, suddenly intrigued.

“They could produce radio waves if they somehow created a primitive electromagnetic field around an old transmitter for example. Remember we used to attach radio transmitters to track spotted owl migration patterns and ranges. The electric pulses from the tree could, in theory, send a wave outward from an old transmitter that fell off an owl.”

“I’m enthralled by all of this. Keep going.”

“Radio waves are created when a current is added and when the current is removed to a transmitter. If someone or something applied and removed the current over and over for a period of time, they might propagate a series of radio waves at a certain frequency.”

“So, a tree could act like a transmitter, right?”

“Correct, and in principle, a bird could make a nest out of an old transmitter or a piece of wire. Jays, crows, and magpies collect shiny objects. In theory, they could replace an old operational transmitter that fell off an owl or a migratory bird. Or it could have been left in a nest by a previously tagged spotted owl. We know that those birds are monogamous and use the same nest over decades. In a perfect world, I guess the voltage from the tree could interact with that transmitter. Wow, wouldn’t that be something?”

Danielle seemed shocked by what she heard. She sat in her office contemplating the information she received, trying desperately to reconcile facts and theories.

“Danielle, are you still there?” Michelle asked.

“Yes, still here. These are amazing times for plant science. Certainly, the plant world is not what it used to be. It’s crazy,” she said.

The satellite signal with the other scientists broke up and then stopped. Danielle stared at her dead phone. She was consumed with the idea that trees had a consciousness. It blew her mind.