I heard the name Julia Butterfly Hill on the radio the other day and it gave me pause.
Twenty years ago, Hill lived for 738 days up in a redwood tree called “Luna” in an attempt to keep it from being cut down. Hearing her name again made me curious about what had led her to undertake her unusually committed stand.
Turns out her father was a traveling minister, and she spent much of her childhood playing in the woods outside towns where her dad was preaching. When she was six, a butterfly stayed on her finger for the duration of a family hike. Thus, her nickname was born.
Her life unfolded typically until age 22, when she was in a terrible car accident. A steering wheel penetrated her skull, an incident she credits for turning her life in a new direction. Until then, she says, she’d been career-driven and materialistic. “The crash woke me up,” she thereafter claimed, “to the importance of doing whatever I could to make a positive impact on the future.”
In a curious parallel, wilderness preservation icon John Muir also suffered an accident. It nearly blinded him, and also led him to his future destiny. It was in Muir Woods outside San Francisco that I myself had my one and only opportunity to see redwood trees, and I’m deeply grateful to champions like Muir and Hill for that chance to experience firsthand such natural magnificence.
My research revealed that Julia Hill shares my mom’s birthday and that she was up in Luna when my kids were born. It reminded me that California’s majestic redwoods have stood for generations, but few of them remain today, leaving me to wonder if any of my future descendants will ever be able to witness such splendor.
Closer to home, we’ve recently learned that in the last dozen years Vermont has lost more of its forests due to development and landscape fragmentation, seriously affecting water quality and wildlife.
My family lives in a log home among the trees, where we hike, bike, and kayak amid a variety of woodland creatures. But if deforestation continues, before long this way of life could become only a memory.