As I strolled through the forests of Galicia, ok I should probably start this entry a little more accurately. As I stumbled gasping and retching through the forests of Galicia I couldn’t help thinking there was something familiar about the trees. I felt I had vomited onto similar trees in the past.
Indeed I had for the trees were eucalyptus and apparently thriving here in Galicia far from their native land.
“What are you doing here?” I asked between gasps but the eucalypts didn’t answer. They focused their energy on trying to persuade me to throw up on a native species.
Apparently 28% of the forest in Galicia is eucalyptus courtesy of some halfwit monk who, not satisfied with travelling to colonial Australia to spread the word of God returned home to spread the seed of eucalyptus. The eucalyptus took root in Galicia’s soil and is now doing to the native flora what invasive species do in Australia.
Of course blame can’t be all laid at the door of some meddling priest. Once the trees turned up people started chopping them down and to facilitate the down chopping planted more eucalyptus. It’s the sort of sustainable industry the world needs except for the entire “invasive species” component. Attempts to curb the spread of eucalypts have been blocked by big timber companies and their lickspittles in government. In the meantime Summer bushfires are becoming quite the thing. Across the border in Portugal they have banned any new eucalyptus planting but it remains to be seen whether the trees will pay any attention.
As for me I’m torn between the environmental devastation such a species invasion has caused and being guiltily pleased that something from Australia has had such an impact.
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