If a tree falls in the forest maybe a photographer makes a sound...

With some regularity I'm asked if I'm shooting wildlife when people find me loitering in the woods with my camera. I usually offer a witty retort in order to try and convince them I'm not some kind of depraved pervert, along the lines of 'nah, I'm taking pictures of trees, they don't move so fast'. We make brief eye contact, I look embarrassed and we all move on.

This scene only came to be because of a fire which swept through this section the previous summer. Initially I assumed these trees would recover and would have some kind of immunity, many of the affected trees have since been felled.

However, the deeper I delve into woodland photography, the more I realise that my joke isn’t entirely true. Woodlands are never static; they’re constantly evolving, whether through the predictable rhythms of the seasons or more destructive forces like fire, wind, old age, or lumberjack.

As I took this photograph I could hear the chainsaws taking the neighbouring section of woodland. This is a managed commercial woodland, so probably only exists because of this arrangement, but nonetheless, I had met many dog walkers here over the years and we all commented on it's beauty, solitude and our gratitude for knowing of its existence.

My early forays into the forests left me thinking that I could revisit favourite scenes at my leisure and that it didn't matter if I missed a season, there'd always be another one. However, the more you immerse yourself into the woodland world, the more you notice, and the more you realise that couldn't be further from the truth.

A heavy storm felled all of these trees, always a risk because of their shallow roots and exposed location.

You start to form connections with the trees, greeting them like old friends. In turn, they seem to pose graciously for photos and guide you through the forest. As a photographer, I’m often drawn to the older, more unique trees—those with character—which, naturally, makes them more vulnerable to change. When something happens to them, it leaves a mark. It’s difficult to explain this connection to someone who isn’t similarly attuned without sounding like a shoeless, chanting, Gwyneth Paltrow-esque acolyte. But recent events have made me realise I’m not as peculiar as I once thought, and they’ve offered some validation for these feelings.

A gnarly old wood, that absolutely comes alive in spring, has sadly been decimated by the recent storms, with many of the old characters now fallen - including the wonky character in this scene.

When the Sycamore Gap tree was cut down, thousands of people mourned the loss of a landmark that symbolised a connection to the area for so many. The cruel nature of its destruction added to the collective grief, but as the anger fades, those familiar with the site will be left with just a gap where once there was an icon.

The absolute pointlessness of tree vandalism...

Similarly, the recent storms wreaked havoc on the Dark Hedges in Northern Ireland. Although the circumstances here are more natural (for the most part) and perhaps easier to accept, for those with a deeper connection beyond mere tourism, the loss leaves a scar just the same.

This scene may be overshot and overrun with tourists, but for the locals who've grown up here, the ongoing destruction of the Dark Hedges must be heartbreaking

As woodland photographers, the best we can do is cherish these places while we can and continue to explore and document them, sharing the stories of our forest chums. My aim is to convey that connection through my photography, hoping that others will notice and appreciate the less obvious beauty that lies beyond the epic, postcard-perfect scenes. The ultimate reward would be to inspire others to venture into the woods themselves, so they too can develop their own meaningful relationships with their neighborhood oaks.

I took this image on one day and the next day it was being heavily pruned (stripped right back). While this isn't as terminal as some of the other examples, and probably beneficial for the health of the tree, it'll still be a while before it shows off like this again...

I might need to come up with a new witty retort, though, to convince people I’m not just some deviant hanging out in the woods...

The white tree was felled shortly after this picture was taken for safety reasons (it was already dead)