Between our maple groves and the maples of yesterday

What surprises me about this atypical winter we are going through is that it arouses more happiness than worry among a large part of the population. In the eyes of this fringe, the heat record broken on February 27, the little snow and the much cooler temperatures are synonymous with jubilation and well-being.

The inability to project ourselves onto the planet beyond our brief stay in the biosphere is at the origin of this widespread carelessness. However, this present which seems perfect to them is no guarantee of a simple future for the next generations.

What would winters without snow and ice look like? In Austria, Italy, France and Switzerland, many people are now faced with this situation on the mountain slopes that once delighted winter sports enthusiasts. Sad observations also for ecosystems.

This week, I thought about the maple trees who must silently experience a form of physiological schizophrenia. If the trend continues, I wonder what will become of maple syrup production in the not-so-distant future.

Can you imagine Quebec without its emblematic symbols of identity that are the sugar shacks? Is this beautiful and old tradition which bears the imprint of the cumulative knowledge of Aboriginal people threatened by climatic upheavals?

Legends about the discovery of maple syrup vary from one indigenous nation to another. Brother Marie-Victorin reports in his writings that Aboriginal people discovered maple syrup by seeing red squirrels energized by the spring consumption of this slightly sweetened water.

If this story is true, now that the maple groves are privatized, it is normal for the squirrels to anger the maple producers by nibbling the sugar shack pipes. You cannot stop a rodent from gnawing. Especially when the creature in question has royalties on the patent which today benefits the maple industry.

Beyond the many stories surrounding its discovery and the modernization of its exploitation by European settlers, it is to winter and the cold that we owe the first thanks for maple sap. This sweetness that we hijack to sweeten our mouths is an energy reserve that serves to wake up the tree, give it a boost. boost and restart its metabolism after its long winter dormancy.

Therefore, the maples must certainly see the tapper as we look at the mosquito landing on our skin. If the objective is the same, the human crushes the mosquito to defend himself while fortunately, the maple does not give us a volley of green wood to protect its precious liquid. In truth, this exploitation is most sustainable, because only 4 to 5% of the tree’s sugar reserves are harvested.

Of the 150 species of maple trees rooted in the biosphere, only four produce this sweet raw sap. The main one is obviously the sugar maple, which produces 70% of the world’s maple syrup. It is followed by the red maple, which produces 29% of the harvest. Silver maple and black maple share the remaining measly 1%.

At the end of summer, the shortening of day length and drops in temperature announce to the maple tree that winter is on the way. The plant then produces carbohydrates (starch) which will be stored in the roots before the winter cold plunges it into a state of slowed life. When spring arrives, the alternation between cold night temperatures and milder daytime temperatures favors the movement of this water in the tree.

Maple sap contains 2 to 3% sucrose from the enzymatic transformation of starch reserves. She climbs the tree during cold nights and descends during the day. This allows the maple producer to extract the precious liquid which will become syrup after evaporation.

Sugar season is the awakening of the maple trees which, in the past, overlapped with that of the inhabitants who had just as much suffered the winter cold. The arrival of these sweets was therefore an opportunity to gather and celebrate. For a long time, this local sugar from maple groves was a substitute for the more expensive cane sugar that was imported from the Antilles. With the invention of evaporators towards the end of the 19th century^e century, what was a tradition is gradually becoming an industry. So much so that today, while maple syrup is one of the most precious commodities, sugaring time is a mixture of the cultural and the economic.

But will he be around for much longer? Despite the hope that some models give us, no one knows. Faced with the environmental crisis, the line between optimism and naivety is very porous. If there is one thing that these increasingly atypical winters that we are experiencing remind us, it is that with the acceleration of climatic upheavals, everything can change very quickly.

In other words, we still have to wish each other good luck, because if the maple tree gives itself a boost boost to emerge from its dormancy, completely numbed by its cult of comfort and economic growth, humanity certainly needs a good kick in the behind or a powerful electroshock to wake up before it is too late. Its torpor in the face of the environmental crisis is so profound that it can be compared to that which inhabits a hibernating groundhog. Like the maples, the plump rodent is also starting to lose its shade in the face of these increasingly unpredictable winters.