Since our early ancestors came down from the canopy, we may think we have learned how to live without trees. But our lives remain intertwined in incredible ways
O
nce upon a time there was a girl who lived in a tree. She had deep-set brown eyes and brown hair. She ate fruit – orange mangosteen and black juniper berries – crunched on nuts, sucked on sweet grasses and chewed juicy leaves, and dug up tubers and roots, knowing which ones were good, and which were hard or poisonous.
Sometimes, she followed the trails that crisscrossed through the grass, but much of the time she clambered through the broad crowns of the trees, reaching up for branches and feeling the texture of the bark against her hands, balancing against the trunks and springing along boughs. At night she tucked herself into the fork of several branches and curled up to sleep, watching stars like diamonds and branches against the sky.
One day, high up in the canopy, she slipped. She fell more than 40ft (12 metres) and hit the ground at more than 35mph (55km/h), feet first, then fell forwards on to her outstretched arms. The impact was too much, and her legs and pelvis shattered, as well as her arms and ribs. There was no medical help, and she died from her injuries in a couple of hours.
