By Bevin Cohen

Truly fascinating, the relationships amongst plants. Many volumes have been written and sold on the topic of companion planting, the theory that growing certain species in close proximity to each other is somehow beneficial to one or both of the plants. This is sometimes attributed to one plant’s ability to attract certain insects or deter unwanted pests or sometimes, it’s almost as if the two species are engaged in some type of mysterious partnership, beneficial to both, yet the terms of the agreement are known only to them. In other words, we’re not sure why these plants perform so well together, but we certainly know that they do.

Modern science has developed a theory that plants have found ways to communicate with each other, that the “trees can talk.” This is attributed to a relationship between the roots of the trees and the mycorrhizal fungi within the forest soil. While this is a “new” theory, this knowledge is anything but. The Indigenous people that walked these forests and fields have known this truth for centuries. Their understanding of the tree’s ability to communicate ran deeper than just the surface of this basic concept. They were aware that the trees are alive in spirit, and surely these trees are cognizant of their dependence upon each other as well as the other plants and animals of the forest.

This brings to mind a documentary I watched with my son a few years ago about the brazil nut tree, Bertholletia excelsa, and the many birds and insects that rely on this tree’s micro-ecosystem for survival—from the euglossine bees that are the only insects able to gain access into and pollinate the trees’ unique flowers, to the agouti, a small rodent that is one of the few animals with the ability to chew through the very hard pods of the brazil nut. The agouti, who buries the nuts for later enjoyment, much like the common squirrel of North America, is the main dispersal mechanism for the brazil nut tree’s seeds, which would be unable to propagate without the rodent’s assistance.

This relationship between certain plants and animals is like a conversation, tied to an evolution that in some cases began hundreds or thousands of years ago, if not more. As the tree evolved their seeds into nuts, rodents evolved to collect and consume them. The tree’s nut then adapted to include a shell, and the rodents responded with larger, stronger teeth. Soon predators joined the conversation, eager to take advantage of the distracted munching rodent, using this opportunity to swoop in onto a meal of its own. The trees chimed in with thicker, harder shells on their seeds, and the rodent’s only response, unable to chance the extra time out in the open gnawing through this shell, was to scurry away with its prize, thus dispersing the seeds out and away from the shadow of the mother tree. This is almost like an evolutionary dance, with each partner responding to the next and moving in step, forever twirling together through time.

We delve deeper into the nature of interdependence when we contemplate the fascinating communication and relationships involved in the development of cocoa beans, the fruit of the tropical tree, Theobroma cacao. The luscious treat of chocolate that many of us enjoy certainly would not be possible without the intricate dance of maggots, midges, lizards, and monkeys that so magnificently displays the significance of these interspecies relationships.

Another fine example of the co-evolution of communication between plants and animals is that between birds and the chile pepper, Capsicum spp., a spicy-fruited, herbaceous plant native to South America. What gives the chile pepper its spice are capsaicinoids, naturally occurring alkaloids that function as a defense mechanism designed to protect the seed-laden pods of the capsicum plant from predation from mammals. This chemical irritant produces a sensation of burning in any tissue with which it comes into contact.

Interestingly enough, birds do not have capsaicin sensitive receptors in their mouths and therefore can easily consume the peppers with no adverse effect. To further this symbiotic relationship, ripened chile peppers typically turn a vibrant shade of red, a color that birds are naturally attracted to. In this agreement between plant and animal, the chile plant provides food to the bird in exchange for the avian assistance in widespread seed dispersal as the seeds are passed through the bird’s digestive system. This is a particularly beneficial relationship for the chile plant, as it has been documented that the germination rates of capsicum seeds passed through the digestive system of a bird are notably higher than those that have not.

These relationships between plants, animals, and insects are truly fascinating and deserving of further study. One can’t help but wonder about the depth of these conversations as we stroll through the forest, a network of mycorrhizal fungi passing information from tree to tree beneath our feet. But far too often we view the world from the vantage point of the outsider, wandering through Nature’s museum as if we’re critiquing fine art or gazing upon creatures on display at the zoo. This is perhaps our greatest error. By studying the world from the outside, we tend to forget that we too are a part of this relationship, that our voice is also needed in this conversation. Just as the plants, animals, and insects have developed co-dependent, symbiotic relationships, we have also evolved in conversations with all of Nature’s wonders. After generations of playing the role of “observer,” we have lost touch with our connection to the order of things, creating an imbalance that in the short term is unsustainable and in the long term, cataclysmic.

I won’t preach to the choir about the dangers of deforestation. We all know that continuing to take and consume without an equal effort put towards giving back is both short-sighted and destructive, and this holds true regardless of which disbalanced human-to-nature relationship we choose to analyze. But if we look to the forest not just as a series of networks, but as a complete, fully-functioning, living organism, then perhaps we will learn what the trees have always known—each part of the organism is equally valuable no matter how small or insignificant it may seem. Until every relationship is considered sacred and alive with spirit, then we will continue to have the same one-sided conversations with nature that have wreaked havoc upon our planet and the delicate balance of her ecosystems. As the world warms and the forests die, it is crucial that we accept our role in this madness and do our part to improve these relationships. It’s time to have better conversations.

Bevin Cohen is an author, herbalist, gardener, seed saver, educator, and owner of Small House Farm in Michigan. Cohen offers workshops and lectures across the country on the bene􀃀 ts of living closer to the land through seeds, herbs, and locally grown food, and he has published numerous works on these topics, including the bestselling Saving Our Seeds and his highly anticipated new book, The Artisan Herbalist (New Society 2021). He serves on the board of the International Herb Association and the advisory council for the Community Seed Network. Learn more about Cohen’s work on his website www.smallhousefarm.com.