Perhaps ancient forests are magnificent engineers of water

I walked along this river twice, studying the local nature, but only when I went there for the third time did I see a passage through the enormous roots of trees, leading to a world unknown to me. The greatest giants of trees seemed to push the earth aside, allowing river water to pass deep into the ancient forest — and this water kept them from dying in the exhausting heat. Perhaps this was truly the first time I thought that centuries-old trees might be magnificent engineers, and that we know absolutely nothing about it.

From the river, a channel goes into the darkness of the forest, formed by the trees themselves. I cannot calculate exactly when it appeared, but with a width of about 15 meters, and assuming that it began as a one-meter channel, it means it expanded by 7 meters on each side. With an average expansion of one bank by 1 cm per year, we get roughly 700 years of formation; but I assume that here it is closer to 2 cm, judging by the vegetation and the looseness of the soils. This means that, over about 350 years, the tree-engineers widened this branch, allowing the water to move ever deeper into the forest.

The roots fixed some areas in place, tore apart and lifted others, and during floods the weaker zones were washed away; trees fell, overturning their root plates and forming depressions, which were then stabilized as a permanent branch of the river. Now water flows here, enormous fish stand silently in it, and I hear the trees speaking with the wind.

Right now, I am still at the width of the river. I need to prepare before I can return for the fourth time and take my boat toward the very heart of the ancient forest, to explore the secrets of the wild world. I am afraid of disturbing this mystery, but I cannot leave without discovering it for myself.