Part 3: When Trees Fall Quietly—The Ecological Cost of Co-Stewardship Logging

This is Part 3 in my three-part investigative series on Tribal co-stewardship. We’ve looked at how federal agencies are using these partnerships to justify expanded timber harvests (Part 1), and how they’re bypassing environmental review using categorical exclusions (Part 2). Now, we turn to the land itself—what’s being lost beneath the buzzwords of “resilience,” “restoration,” and “equity.”

Because while these projects claim to heal forests, some are quietly accelerating ecological damage, fragmenting wildlife habitat, and pushing ecosystems past tipping points. And the public has little idea it’s happening.

When “Forest Health” Is Anything But

Timber harvesting under the banner of co-stewardship is often marketed as wildfire prevention. But the on-the-ground effects can be devastating—especially when projects involve mechanical thinning, clearings for firebreaks, or road construction in sensitive terrain.

These operations remove not only trees, but canopy cover, understory structure, nesting cavities, and food sources—damaging the intricate web of life that species rely on for survival.

Species most at risk from this kind of disturbance include:

• Northern Spotted Owls, who depend on closed-canopy forests for roosting and hunting

  
  

• Marten and fisher, whose populations are declining due to habitat fragmentation

  
  

• Salamanders and other amphibians, sensitive to soil disturbance and moisture changes from logging

What’s labeled as “treatment” can look—and act—a lot like industrial harvest, especially when timelines are rushed and Tribal leadership is symbolic rather than sovereign.

Northern Spotted Owl (Strix occidentalis caurina)(photo by USFWS).

Fragmentation: The Hidden Legacy of Logging Roads

It’s not just the trees. It’s the roads.

To move logs, roads are carved through forests that once offered uninterrupted habitat. These access routes become permanent scars—disrupting migration corridors, introducing invasive species, increasing poaching risks, and changing hydrology. Once they’re in, they’re rarely removed.

And in many co-stewardship projects, these roads are built quickly, with little analysis of long-term impact—especially if the project is fast-tracked under NEPA exclusions.

What Traditional Ecological Knowledge Can Teach Us

This isn’t an argument against Indigenous land management. In fact, it’s the opposite.

For generations, Tribes have practiced sustainable forest stewardship rooted in Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK). These systems are guided not by volume or profit, but by deep relationships with the land—seasonal indicators, fire ecology, and respect for non-human relatives.

Examples of this include:

• Cultural fire regimes used to maintain oak savannas and food systems

  
  

• Rotational harvest guided by plant regeneration rates

  
  

• Species indicators used to assess ecosystem health long before modern biology caught up

But in many current co-stewardship frameworks, TEK is added as a footnote rather than embedded in the core design. That’s not restoration. That’s erasure by repackaging.

What We’re Not Seeing in the Data

With so many projects fast-tracked and environmental assessments limited or skipped entirely, we’re left with huge data gaps:

• No baseline for biodiversity before treatment

  
  

• No monitoring of species loss after thinning

  
  

• No long-term soil and watershed health tracking

  
  

• No third-party review of logging volume or harvest area

Without these metrics, how do we even know if these projects are helping?

Agencies claim resilience. But resilience for whom? And by whose measure?

The Call to Action: From Optics to Integrity

If co-stewardship is going to mean anything, it has to start with truth. Not narrative. Not spin. Not shortcuts.

Here’s what we need:

• Full ecological assessments for all projects—not just the ones that are easy to defend

  
  

• Real Tribal leadership where Indigenous nations set priorities, not just co-sign plans

  
  

• Monitoring and transparency, with results available to the public

  
  

• Clear distinctions between cultural fire, ecological thinning, and commercial harvest

These aren’t criticisms of Tribal involvement. They’re demands for respect. Because respect means giving Tribes full power—not political props. And respect for land means putting ecosystems first, not using them as cover for cut-and-run forestry.

The path to justice isn’t paved in roadbeds and clearings. It’s built through deep listening, long timelines, and real consent.

Let’s stop pretending this is working if we’re not even willing to measure the damage.