Even trees die, usually of old age, I mean nothing lives for ever.
Of course there are some very old trees about. There is a bristlecone pine somewhere in the White Mountains of California named Methuselah which is 4,723 years old. (There was an even older one called Prometheus which turned out to 4,950 years old, but the U.S. Forest Service allowed that one to be felled in 1964.) The Japanese claim to have an ever older tree, a cedar on Yakushima Island called Jomon-Sugi which is supposed to be between 6,300 or 7,200 years old.
But they are exceptions; most trees die after about a hundred or a hundred fifty years (depending on the precise species naturally).
Even trees die, and even dead trees have their defenders.
An "environmental protestor" by the name of Eve Chrysalis chained herself to a fallen oak and vowing to stay there until "this insane killing of dead trees stops".
(By the sound of it, there were a bunch of protestors who had followed the usual practice of climbing up some tall redwood
trees to prevent them being cut down, and another lot who were to scared of heights to get too far off the ground and preferred to chain themselves to a nice horizontal piece of timber and keep their feet firmly on the ground.)
Even trees die, even Australia's largest tree named El Grande, located on the island of Tasmania and almost four hundred years old. The local forestry service were conducting what is described as a "routine burn-off"that got out of hand, and oops, accidentally cooked El Grande to death.
(Although the authorities deny its dead and say that it's merely charred.)
Some people are unhappy; "If they can't look after one tree, how can they be trusted to take care of a forest?"
Because even trees die, and when one dies it just leaves room to plant another.
Which would you grieve over the most; the death of your aging father or the death of your young child?