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Looking at the skinny elm sapling reaching for the sky in his backyard, James Bryant said that he hopes he lives long enough to sit under its canopy and read a book in summer.

Bryant’s neighborhood in Charlottesville, VA, has the dubious distinction of being the hottest in town. Walking the blocks around the intersection of 10th and Page streets, it’s easy to see why — trees that could offer some shady relief from the broiling summer sun are few and far between.

“We couldn’t sit out until late evening to have cookouts because it was so hot,” he said.

Like many communities across the Chesapeake Bay watershed, Charlottesville and its nonprofit partners are trying to change that. Bryant has a new crape myrtle in his tiny front yard and a pair of nascent shade trees out back, courtesy of volunteers with the Charlottesville Area Tree Stewards. This fall, the city’s Tree Commission is going door to door in the neighborhood, looking for at least 20 more homeowners willing to have trees planted in their yards.

Despite such efforts, the city is losing mature trees faster than it can plant new ones. Across town, pink and orange surveyor’s tape hangs from dozens of large trees in an 8-acre woods that a developer plans to clear to build 47 new homes. Another 12-acre woodland was rezoned earlier this year for housing development.

“Rather than robust and flourishing, Charlottesville’s overall tree canopy continues to decline at an accelerating rate,” the Tree Commission warned last year. From 2014 to 2018, the city lost nearly 80 acres of leafy canopy, a 3% reduction, a new set of data shows.

Charlottesville is far from alone. The new figures, compiled by scientists working as part of the state-federal Chesapeake Bay cleanup effort, show that communities in the Bay watershed cumulatively suffered a net loss of more than 29,000 acres in urban tree canopy during that period.

Those losses come despite a pledge made in 2014 by all of the Bay watershed states — Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New York, and West Virginia, plus the District of Columbia — to increase their overall urban tree canopy by 2,400 acres by 2025.

Evidence that urban tree canopy is going in the wrong direction comes from aerial surveys conducted in 2013–14 and 2017–18, which were analyzed by the Chesapeake Bay Program and the nonprofit Chesapeake Conservancy. Two-thirds of the watershed’s communities — cities, towns, villages, and unincorporated clusters of homes recognized as “places” in the U.S. Census — lost tree cover. The rest held steady or registered mostly small gains.

The survey data found that those losses are part of a broader canopy decline that extends into rural areas. But urban tree cover declines are of particular concern because trees in developed areas not only prevent polluted runoff but reduce extreme heat and fight air pollution. They also reduce flooding, lower energy bills, raise property values and dampen noise, among other benefits. Development takes a toll

The reasons for the decline are manifold. Diseases and pests, such as the emerald ash borer, kill many mature trees. Ice and wind from storms fell others. Property owners take down other trees because they’re considered hazards to property or safety or just inconvenient.

“There are so many different forces that are whittling away at the canopy,” said Julie Mawhorter, Mid-Atlantic Urban and Community Forestry Coordinator for the U.S. Forest Service.

Ironically enough, some losses have even occurred in an effort to improve the Bay’s water quality. Stream restoration projects were undertaken to reduce bank erosion and nutrient and sediment pollution, often requiring sacrificing mature trees overhanging the water.

But the major cause of canopy declines is development, the aerial surveys showed. Woodland oases next to or surrounded by concrete and asphalt are cleared for new homes, warehouses, and other buildings, while trees also come down for roads, power lines, and pipelines. Amputated tree trunks and mounds of shredded wood are all that’s left of a patch of woods off Aris T. Allen Boulevard in Annapolis that was recently cleared for development. Credit: Dave Harp / Bay Journal Media

According to a Bay Journal analysis of Bay Program data, when grouped by state, Maryland communities suffered the biggest declines in tree cover, losing a total of 14,592 acres for a 2.2% decrease in the cumulative canopy. Virginia’s communities collectively lost 9,955 acres, for a 1.3% decrease. Pennsylvania lost 3,256 acres or 0.7%.

The community with the biggest loss was Virginia Beach, the state’s most populous city. It lost more than 1,700 acres — more than three times the next biggest decline, which occurred in Brandywine, a growing unincorporated area of Prince George’s County, MD.

“When you have older trees, they fail during storms, and they do die,” said Brooke Costanza, Virginia Beach’s city arborist. “We think private property owners are cutting trees on their property because they’re scared of storm damage.”

The biggest gain, with a 268-acre increase in the canopy, was in tiny Mount Vernon, an unincorporated village in Somerset County, MD, whose census-drawn boundaries encompass broad swaths of timberland. Top 5 tree canopy losses Virginia Beach, VA: 1,722 acresBrandywine, MD: 502 acresWaldorf, MD: 493 acresAccokeek, MD: 483 acresPotomac, MD: 472 acres

Source: Chesapeake Bay Program Top 5 tree canopy gains Mount Vernon, MD: 268 acresEden, MD: 242 acresCambridge, MD: 180 acresSalisbury, MD: 130 acresLexington Park, MD: 124 acres

Large cities lost 1.9% of their canopy in just four years, nearly three times the decline in small towns, though there were small gains in the watershed’s two largest municipalities, Baltimore and Washington, DC.

The new figures also seem to underscore longstanding racial inequities in urban landscapes. The percentage of tree cover in the 112 communities where Black residents make up 50% or more of the population declined 11 times more than in other places. Baltimore as a whole was an exception, increasing its overall canopy by about 100 acres.

Such findings are significant because many predominantly Black neighborhoods already had a tree deficit, a legacy of historic housing segregation that often consigned them to cramped, relatively treeless environs. 634558e48d2cf.pdfDownload

Baltimore and Richmond, for example, were among more than 200 U.S. cities subjected for much of the 1900s to “redlining,” the federally promoted practice of withholding home loan approvals from racially and ethnically diverse neighborhoods. Tree-starved neighborhoods

Though outlawed in 1968, redlining’s legacy lives on in many places, including Richmond’s Southside area. The most glaring evidence of the decades of disinvestment can be seen in the predominately Black community’s lack of trees. Research led by the Science Museum of Virginia has found that the resulting “heat islands” can be up to 16 degrees hotter than leafier parts of the city, putting Southside residents at far greater risk of heat-related illnesses and death.

Sheri Shannon wants to change that. She is one of the founders of Southside ReLeaf, a nonprofit that seeks to promote environmental justice by adding and improving green spaces.

“Planting trees is not going to solve environmental racism,” Shannon said. “It’s not going to solve the climate crisis, but it is one part of mitigating the temperature in neighborhoods disproportionately impacted by extreme heat.” Arthur Ashe Boulevard in Richmond, shown here in 2019, experiences the urban “heat island” effect, with fewer trees and more impervious surface. Credit: Will Parson / Chesapeake Bay Program

The effort’s centerpiece is the Greening Southside Richmond Project, a partnership with other environmental groups to plant hundreds of trees while training local youths in green industries.

“We’re focused on making sure we’re improving the green infrastructure, which will eventually improve the social infrastructure of neighborhoods,” Shannon said of the initiative, which received a $230,000 grant from the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation to support the work into early 2023.

But it’s an uphill battle, she admitted. Developers are bulldozing tracts of trees, and she contends that they are not required to compensate for the losses adequately.

“Essentially, we’re seeing a lot of multifamily housing going up, which is needed, but we’re not seeing trees being planted and mature trees being preserved — and in an area already experiencing extreme heat and floods because of poor infrastructure,” Shannon said. Money for planting trees

Amid growing recognition of trees’ value in restoring the Bay and battling climate change, nonprofit groups and governments are stepping up efforts to get more roots in the ground. Many are also trying to address historic inequities in the distribution of trees throughout their communities.

In Maryland, lawmakers passed the Tree Solutions Now Act last year, which calls for 5 million trees to be planted statewide by 2031. The legislation specified that at least 500,000 of those trees go in “underserved areas.”

In June, the state’s Board of Public Works gave $10 million to the Chesapeake Bay Trust to fund the first year of plantings in relatively treeless communities. The trust promptly handed out $7.7 million to nearly three dozen state and local agencies, nonprofits, and community groups. Grants ranged from $9,000 to $1.9 million. Trust director Jana Davis said those funds should pay for planting 40,000 trees by next spring. They’ll have to pick up the pace in future years to reach the state’s 2031 goal. Formerly a stretch of bare concrete, this sidewalk in West Baltimore was planted with shrubs and trees in 2019. Credit: Will Parson / Chesapeake Bay Program

Federal money is also on the way to boost urban tree plantings in the watershed. The Inflation Reduction Act will provide $1.5 billion nationwide over the next ten years for the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s urban forestry program — a fivefold increase from its current funding level.

But the overall rate of tree losses has been so great that even doubling or tripling plantings won’t close the gap by itself, experts say.

“You can’t plant your way out of it,” said the Forest Service’s Mawhorter, who coordinates the Bay Program’s urban tree canopy effort. “If you want to use trees for climate resilience and these Bay goals, you also need to pay attention to your existing canopy and how you maintain it.”

Money alone won’t fill in holes in urban tree cover, either. Finding suitable spots for planting in some densely built neighborhoods is no simple matter. Houses around 10th and Page streets in Charlottesville hug the street on lots that are much smaller than average. Front yards aren’t big enough to accommodate big shade trees, so backyards often offer the only alternatives. ‘Fill in the gaps’ Peggy Van Yahres, chair of the Tree Commission in Charlottesville, VA, talks with James Bryant about the trees planted in his backyard by volunteers with the Charlottesville Area Tree Stewards. Credit: Dave Harp / Bay Journal Media

James Bryant’s neighborhood in Charlottesville is one of those urban “heat islands,” where the tree canopy is less than half the citywide average of 40%. The historically Black neighborhood has one of the city’s highest heart attacks, heat stroke, and asthma rates, according to Peggy Van Yahres, chair of the city’s Tree Commission. Most families pay up to 20% of their income for heating and cooling.

The commission helped launch ReLeaf Cville, a project aimed at improving health and living conditions in neighborhoods with skimpy canopy, starting with 10th and Page. They have planted about 30 trees there and helped train a group of teens to canvass the area for more homeowners.

“We’re going to fill in the gaps,” Van Yahres said.

In Baltimore, you first need to make some gaps. The only way to plug trees in some treeless neighborhoods is to carve holes in the concrete. Just 28% of the city is shaded by trees, with as little as 4% canopy in some blocks.

Wearing headphones to dampen the deafening noise, Malcolm Wilson, restoration crew leader for Blue Water Baltimore, guided a wheeled rotary saw nicknamed “Big Baby” as it carved through the concrete walk on North Smallwood Street in West Baltimore.

Crew member Corbin Sulton climbed into a skid loader fitted with a big steel punch to break up the cut-out patch. His next step was to grab the slabs with an excavator and hoist them into a nearby dump truck.

Next spring, Blue Water Baltimore plans to plant cherry, redbud, and other hardy saplings in the newly created sidewalk pits. With limited exposed ground to soak up rainfall, the young trees face challenges getting established, so the group plans to water and check on them for two years.

“If we could plant this block top to bottom and have only two or three trees die, then we’re winning,” said Wilson, who called blocks like this one “hidden gems.”

 “In the long run,” he added, “it’s going to create shade [and] draw enough [pollution] out of the air. It will draw some people out, so they’re sitting on their steps.” Malcolm Wilson of Blue Water Baltimore uses a concrete saw nicknamed “Big Baby” to cut out sections of sidewalk where trees will be planted on a nearly treeless block of North Smallwood Street. Credit: Dave Harp / Bay Journal Media

Reggie Parker, one of the few sitting out to watch the crew work, can hardly wait.

“We need some shade here,” he said as he perched with his cats on the sill of his open front door. He hoped the trees would also “bring more birds into the area.”

Baltimore is one of the bright spots, along with Washington, DC, that has bucked the statistical trend of large and more diverse communities losing canopy. According to the Bay Program data, Baltimore’s tree cover grew by about 1% or more than 100 acres.

According to Sam Seo, director of Tree-Baltimore, a city-run umbrella group, the city, and its nonprofit partners have planted about 13,000 trees since 2016. It has also begun to perform proactive pruning of mature trees to improve their chances of surviving storms. Corbin Sulton of Blue Water Baltimore removes slabs of concrete to create places where trees can be planted on North Smallwood Street in West Baltimore. Credit: Dave Harp / Bay Journal Media

According to CEO Bryant Smith, the nonprofit Baltimore Tree Trust has been planting about 3,000 trees a year and intends to double its pace in 2023. Within a few years, he said he hopes to be planting 10,000 trees annually.

But Baltimore’s goal is to get 40% of the city shaded by trees by 2037, so there’s a long way to go.

“If we’re only doing 10,000 [a year], we’re not going to get there,” said Erik Dihle, who retired earlier this year after a decade as the city’s arborist. He estimated that reaching the goal in time would require boosting that rate by 2.5 times.

Besides pests and storms, some of the biggest threats to Baltimore’s tree canopy have come from infrastructure projects, including a new natural gas pipeline cutting through the forested wilderness of the city’s Gwynns Falls/Leakin Park. Several stream restorations and sewer rehabilitation work have also mowed down swaths of trees. Weak tree protections

In many, if not most, communities, the vast majority of trees are on private property. Experts say that is the Achilles’ heel of the effort to expand the urban canopy.

“In general, the local policies to prevent loss are pretty weak across the watershed,” Mawhorter said. “Maryland has the strongest laws, but we’ve also had a lot of losses in Maryland.”

Maryland’s Forest Conservation Act, first passed in 1991, requires developers to spare large “specimen” trees and those bordering streams and wetlands. They’re also obligated to replace at least some of what they cut down.

But the law only applies when about an acre or more is to be cleared, and it allows developers to pay to preserve trees elsewhere rather than plant replacements. Several Maryland counties and Baltimore City have in recent years imposed stricter limits, but it’s too soon to gauge their effectiveness.

Virginia has laws that aim to conserve and replace trees, but they only recently applied in the suburbs near DC. The tree replacement law, which has expanded statewide, actually limits how much localities may require developers to replant, according to Peggy Sanner, Virginia director of the Chesapeake Bay Foundation.

“We don’t have very strong private [tree] regulations other than what’s given to us by the state,” said Matt Alfele, a Charlottesville city planner. Peggy Van Yahres, chair of the Tree Commission in Charlottesville, VA, walks along a mostly treeless block near 10th and Page streets, which has less than half of the city’s average tree canopy and some of its hottest summertime temperatures. Credit: Dave Harp / Bay Journal Media

In Pennsylvania, municipalities can form shade tree commissions. They can also regulate tree removal along streets and in some development situations. But relatively few have gone that far, said Harry Campbell, advocacy director in the Bay Foundation’s Harrisburg office.

As in other states, the emphasis is on appealing to private landowners to keep trees and replace those that get taken down voluntarily.

Takoma Park, a small Maryland city in the DC suburbs, has perhaps the strongest legal protections for trees on private property in the Bay watershed. A permit is required to cut down any tree with a trunk that measures more than 24 inches around, and only dead or hazardous trees can be taken down without being required to plant replacements or pay a hefty fee.

Marty Frye, Takoma Park’s urban forester, said five permit applications were denied last year. Even so, because of widespread die-off from extreme weather and pests, he said he had approved 500–600 removals each of the last two years. And with small young trees replacing big old ones, the city’s leafy canopy continues to shrink.

With the tree canopy declining faster than new trees can take their place, the Forest Service’s Mawhorter said she doubts Bay watershed states can dig themselves out of the hole they’re in and increase total tree cover by 2,400 acres by 2025.

“We’re going to have to reassess,” she said. “Is this the right goal? And if it is, what will it take to get there?”

This article was originally published on BayJournal.com and is republished with permission.

Tim Wheeler is the Bay Journal's associate editor and senior writer, based in Maryland. You can reach him at 410-409-3469 or twheeler@bayjournal.com. More by Timothy Wheeler, Bay Journal Media

Jeremy Cox is a Bay Journal staff writer based in Maryland. More by Jeremy Cox

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