LEST WE FORGET THE GIVING TREE

“Once there was a tree...and she loved a little boy.”

Utah Lake has been at the heart of Utah Valley for longer than we know, though she has taken many forms and gone by many names. Once an inland sea known as Lake Bonneville, connecting Utah Lake to the Great Salt Lake, a massive flood 15,000 years ago caused much of the water to spill out into the Snake River Valley. Afterwards, Utah Valley began to resemble what we know it to be today. As land replaced water, people started to populate the valley, and the Lake began to love the people.

“And every day the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest. He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade. And the boy loved the tree...very much. And the tree was happy.”

Beginning with the Clovis people, then the Fremont and Numic peoples (ancestors of the Shoshone and Paiute), followed by the Athapascans (ancestors to the Navajo and Apache tribes), the Utah Lake area has been a crossroads of humanity for at least 12,000 years. People came to the lake, gathering the abundant reeds and using them to weave baskets and make arrows. They swam in her waves and used her water. The diversity of organisms that she supported provided abundant food for the Timpanogos clan of the large Shoshone Nation who lived along her banks. They celebrated this abundance, holding an annual fish festival at the lake, a time for the individual clans of the Shoshone Nation to come together.

As the pioneers came and settled the land, the Timpanogos clan taught them about Utah Lake and all she did for them. They were also sustained by the food and water she provided.

The people loved the lake, and she loved them back. As they engaged in this reciprocity, they were happy.

But time went by. And the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone. Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, "Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy." "I am too big to climb and play," said the boy. "I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money."

But time went by and more people settled the land. The Timpanogos, who had loved and cared for the Lake for so long, were forced out. After a time, there was nobody left who knew and loved the lake, nobody to teach the new settlers all she offered. The lake spoke to these new people, saying, “Come, play in my waves and pick my reeds and eat my fish and be happy,” but they responded, “Your waters are too muddy and your shores have too many bugs. We are too busy and important to spend time here. We need to make money.”

The lake offered her shorelines and the surrounding land. She offered a home in her waters to the invasive carp so the people had more to fish. And most of the people took. They built homes and established farms around her. They dumped pollution and turned their backs. But some still visited her. They still played and boated in her waters. They still looked upon her beauty and recognized all she provided. And because of them, she was happy.

But there’s a twist here, you see, because the people who cared, they didn’t just take and enjoy. They knew more than the boy in the story. Instead, they gave back. They began treating their wastewater to reduce pollution in the Lake. They restored flow from the Provo River and began restoring the Provo River Delta. They worked to remove the carp and protect the June Sucker, an effort that has been extremely successful (with the June Sucker being down-listed from endangered to threatened in 2021). Because of this and more, the lake was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time. And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak. "Come, Boy," she whispered, "come and play." "I am too old and sad to play," said the boy. "I want a boat that will take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?" "Cut down my trunk and make a boat," said the tree. "Then you can sail away... and be happy." And so the boy cut down her trunk and made a boat and sailed away. And the tree was happy... but not really.

Despite all the efforts taken to restore and improve Utah Lake, the insatiable people who only demanded and took from her continued to want more. And though she whispered, “come and play,” and plead, “remember who I am and what I do,” they wouldn’t stop. Until one day, they came by her shores and asked for more land. They told her she was too dirty and too ugly the way she was. They told her they would return to her waters and her shores if she changed everything about her. And the lake was happy… but not really. Because if she changed that much for those who didn’t care, if she grew deeper and stilled her waves, if she became clearer and allowed roads and islands in the middle, how would the others recognize her? How would the millions of birds who visit her as they migrate know where to stop? How would her beloved June Suckers that were finally returning know they were home? How would the people who did care, who visited her even still, find their refuge amongst her waves and her reeds and her natural beauty? She didn’t want to change for these men with their tailored suits and their big wallets. She didn’t want to change because of their unrealistic expectations and their unkind words. She didn’t want to change because of their misunderstanding of what a lake is versus what a lake should be or because of the misinformation they spread to the world. Because of their greed.

But did she have a choice?

Lest we forget the Giving Tree and that by the time the boy returned the tree had nothing left to give. However, it is not enough to simply “not forget;” we must remember this story before Utah Lake faces the same fate. Utah Lake is our giving tree. She freely and happily provides life sustaining services to the nearly 600,000 people who live in her watershed and the many more who visit, as she has done for the generations of people that have come to her banks and stepped in her waters. She moderates our climate and provides us the fine powdery snow we all know and love. She removes and processes pollution so it doesn’t remain in our air and water. She provides habitat and food, recreation and beautiful views.

We must remember, visit, and protect our lake. It is our duty to give after taking so much. She is always calling to us, inviting us.

Sometimes I do listen; I heed her call; I visit. When I do, it is hard to believe I ever forgot her, sitting magnificently in the heart of our valley. It is hard to believe I took her for granted.

So I sit and I enjoy and I rest and I am happy.

And she is happy.