After exile, California tribes could help run their ancestral redwoods again

9 min Click here to listen to this article Share via Close extra sharing options Email Facebook X LinkedIn Threads Reddit WhatsApp Copy Link URL Copied! Print 0:00 0:00 1x This is read by an automated voice. Please report any issues or inconsistencies here. Daniel Felix, 10, looks out from atop a gargantuan stump of an old-growth redwood on his tribe’s ancestral land. Once, this forest on California’s North Coast was replete with the ancient behemoths that can live beyond 2,000 years. Only a fraction are left now, depleted by a logging company before the state acquired the forest in the 1940s. This is unique public land, Jackson Demonstration State Forest, spanning 50,000 acres. Trees are plentiful here, but they might not live a millennium. California’s 14 demonstration forests are required to produce and sell timber to show — or “demonstrate” — sustainable practices. Money from logging — roughly $8.5 million a year — pays for management of the forests by the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, or Cal Fire. Daniel’s tribe, the Coyote Valley Band of Pomo Indians, has pushed to rein in the cutting — spearheaded by his late great-grandmother, Priscilla Hunter. They’re part of a diverse coalition that includes environmental activists, local politicians and other tribes. Now they may finally get their wish. Assemblymember Chris Rogers (D-Santa Rosa) has introduced a bill that would nix the forests’ logging mandate, instead prioritizing values such as carbon storage, wildfire resilience and biodiversity. The bill represents the latest chapter in a region legendary for fierce battles over logging, and it marks an uncommon alliance between tribes and the environmental movement. Under Assembly Bill 2494, there could still be logging, but it would have to support those new principles, and the forests would be funded differently. And it proposes another significant change. It would pave the way for giving tribes a say in managing the lands for the first time since they were forcibly evicted more than a century ago, and for integrating Indigenous knowledge — like cultural burning — into the forests. “It’s what we dreamed of,” said Polly Girvin, Hunter’s former partner and a retired lawyer focused on Native American issues. “And to have it come true? I’m used to movements that sometimes take 30 years in Indian Country to get to the justice you’re seeking.” Kids play in the stump of an ancient redwood during a potluck held after the spirit run in Jackson Demonstration State Forest last month. (Paul Kuroda / For The Times) Some backers say the bill offers a new economic path forward for communities behind the so-called redwood curtain. With the decline of logging and cannabis, they see tourism driven by ultramarathons, mushroom foraging and other outdoor activities as a financial savior. “If we had an increase of 10% of visitors coming to our county because of recreational opportunities, that would more than surpass all of the timber tax in our county,” Mendocino County Supervisor Ted Williams said, projecting an increase in money from a lodging tax. But the push to reshape forest management is fiercely opposed by loggers and mill owners, who say their work is sustainable and provides blue-collar jobs in a region where they’ve dwindled. Already California imports most of its wood from Oregon, Washington and Canada. “California has the most rules and regulations of anywhere in the world so all they’re doing is exporting the environmental impact to somewhere else, still using the product,” said Myles Anderson, owner of a logging company in Fort Bragg founded by his grandfather. “It’s pretty disgusting, really.” Anderson believes the bill will greatly reduce logging, even stop it altogether. In his office, with photos of him and his father at a logging site decades ago, he points out it’s sponsored by the Environmental Protection Information Center. Why else would they and other environmental groups “support it if they didn’t see the same thing that I’m seeing?” Last month, activists who have sought to rein in logging at Jackson held their first major gathering in about four years, galvanized by the bill that they see as a significant step in the right direction. (Paul Kuroda / For The Times) A new but old fightAbout five years ago, community members caught wind of plans to chop down towering redwoods within Jackson, near the coastal town of Caspar. Priscilla Hunter would come out to the forest “and could hear them crying — it was our ancestors,” said her daughter Melinda Hunter, the tribe’s vice chairwoman. “Then she had to protect [the trees].” Environmental activists and Native Americans, not historically allies in the region, joined forces to fight it. “Forest defenders” camped out high in the canopy and blocked logging equipment with their bodies. Some were arrested. The uprising harked back to the 1980s and 1990s, when iconic environmentalist Judi Bari led Earth First! campaigns aga

After exile, California tribes could help run their ancestral redwoods again

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