"Can Trees Miss Each Other? Investigating Emotional Memory in Forest Networks"

Introduction: The Question That Sounds Human

At first glance, asking whether trees can miss each other might sound poetic—or even absurd. After all, trees don’t have eyes to see or voices to speak. They lack a nervous system, a brain, or emotions as we understand them. Yet, the more science delves into the secret life of trees, the more it seems this question deserves to be taken seriously. In recent years, discoveries about forest communication, fungal networks, and plant memory have opened up a world that was previously considered silent and still. This story explores the emerging evidence and philosophical implications behind the idea that trees might retain a form of emotional memory—and perhaps even miss their fallen companions.

The Wood Wide Web: A Forest's Nervous System

One of the most revolutionary discoveries in recent decades is the existence of the “Wood Wide Web.” This underground network of mycorrhizal fungi connects trees and plants across vast distances, allowing them to exchange nutrients, water, and chemical signals.

Coined by ecologist Dr. Suzanne Simard, this term captures a system that operates much like a neural network. Through this web, trees can send warnings about pests, share resources with younger or weaker trees, and even recognize kin from non-kin. Some researchers believe mother trees—older, central trees in a forest—prioritize their offspring when distributing carbon through the network.

This interconnectedness raises fascinating questions. If trees can remember who their kin are and preferentially treat them, are they exhibiting a rudimentary form of memory?And if they respond to the loss of nearby trees with biochemical changes, could this be interpreted as grief or longing?

Tree Memory: Fact or Fantasy?

Memory, in a biological sense, is the capacity to retain information over time and use it to influence future responses. Trees may not have neurons, but they can “remember” seasonal cycles, previous droughts, and even insect attacks.

In one study, plants that had been exposed to repeated drought conditions responded more quickly and efficiently to subsequent droughts, even when the external conditions didn’t clearly demand it. This adaptive behavior suggests they retained some physiological memory of stress.

Electrical impulses travel through plant tissues, and certain proteins in trees act as long-term memory markers. In effect, trees record experiences chemically and structurally. Could this memory extend beyond individual survival to include relationships with neighboring trees?

The Case of the Dying Beech

In the Black Forest of Germany, foresters noticed something unusual. When an old beech tree was cut down, several surrounding trees showed sudden stress responses. These neighboring trees—once recipients of shared nutrients and communication signals—began to show signs of decline despite being otherwise healthy.

One theory is that the trees depended on the mother beech for guidance and support through the fungal network. When the hub was lost, the dependent trees not only lost their nutrients but also their sense of connection and protection. Could this physiological distress be likened to grief?

While no one is claiming trees cry or mourn in a human sense, the biochemical signals indicate change—distress, confusion, or a recalibration of roles. These are the same kinds of reactions we associate with the loss of loved ones in the animal kingdom.

Indigenous Wisdom: Trees as Relational Beings

Long before Western science began exploring these phenomena, Indigenous cultures around the world held the belief that trees were sentient and relational. In the Amazon, shamans speak of trees as elders and messengers. The Māori of New Zealand regard certain trees, such as the kauri, as sacred ancestors. In these traditions, trees are not passive scenery but active members of a living community.

These cultural perspectives are now receiving more scientific attention, as researchers look for ways to reconcile Western empirical data with long-standing Indigenous ecological knowledge.

When we ask if trees can miss each other, perhaps we are finally catching up to an older truth—one that has been whispered through myths, rituals, and oral traditions for centuries.

Fungal Networks as Emotional Conduits?

Mycorrhizal fungi are more than just nutrient traders. They appear to help regulate forest mood, in a sense. Through hormonal signals, they can influence how trees respond to threats. When a tree is attacked by insects, it may release chemical signals that prepare neighboring trees for defense.

Some researchers have likened this to a forest-wide immune system, a coordinated response to threat akin to a social organism reacting collectively. The disappearance of one member can lead to a measurable shift in the community's resilience.

If a tree dies suddenly, especially one that was deeply connected to others, the fungal network that surrounded it begins to collapse. The loss is not merely physical but biochemical, potentially disrupting the flow of communication and nutrients in ways that could be felt by the entire forest. This cascading effect mirrors how grief can ripple through a human community.

The Science of Plant Electrophysiology

Another clue comes from plant electrophysiology—the study of electrical signaling in plants. Trees generate voltage changes in response to light, touch, damage, and even sound. Experiments have shown that trees can "listen" to the sounds of water and insect munching, adjusting their behavior accordingly.

What if trees are not only sensing their environment but forming a type of memory through these electrical impulses? Could the sudden absence of familiar signals—like the rustling leaves or grounding voltage of a nearby tree—be recorded as a loss?

Although these findings are still in their infancy, they suggest that the physiological responses of trees are far more complex than we once assumed. Emotional memory, if it exists in plants, may not be emotional in a human sense, but rather an embodied, chemical-emotional echo.

Philosophical and Ethical Implications

If trees have memory and feel the absence of their companions in some way, even non-emotionally, what does this mean for logging, deforestation, and even gardening? Should we think differently about how we thin forests or transplant trees?

The ethics of tree removal become more complex when we view forests not as groups of individual organisms but as interwoven societies. The felling of a single tree could, in this view, be the rupture of a community bond.

Environmental philosopher Michael Marder argues for a “plant ethics,” one that acknowledges plant life as complex, intelligent, and deserving of moral consideration. He proposes that the act of recognizing vegetal forms of memory could shift how we relate to the natural world—from one of domination to one of dialogue.

Toward a New Kind of Listening

Scientists are now developing technologies that listen to tree vibrations, measure sap flow, and monitor electrical activity in forests. These tools may one day offer real-time insights into what trees are “feeling” or “experiencing.”

Imagine a future in which forest managers use emotion-aware sensors to detect signs of collective stress or joy in the forest. While we may never fully grasp the consciousness of trees, our ability to empathize with their responses could inform better environmental stewardship.

This shift requires humility. Just because we don’t recognize a form of intelligence or emotion doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. History is full of moments where human understanding had to expand to include other forms of awareness—animal cognition, human neurodivergence, even microbial ecosystems.

Conclusion: Do Trees Miss Each Other?

So, can trees miss each other? If we define “missing” as the detectable physiological, biochemical, or systemic response to the absence of a formerly present individual, then yes—there is mounting evidence to suggest that trees are aware of, and affected by, the loss of their neighbors.

This awareness may not be conscious or emotional in a human sense, but it is meaningful. Forests are not just collections of individual trees; they are dynamic, responsive, interconnected communities.

As we deepen our understanding of these silent giants, perhaps the better question isn’t whether trees miss each other—but whether we’ve been missing the forest's message all along.