Hiking to meet the ancient tree in your pocket change

Plus some updates about FUZZ's plans for the second half of the year.

By Dan Fletcher

FUZZ is on the road for the next few weeks, working on a series of little mini-documentaries in preparation for launch of a new YouTube channel. And that trip took us high above the desert floor yesterday, visiting an ancient tree that’s famous enough to appear on currency.

But before we get to that, I wanted to give you a quick update about this newsletter. Since launch in January, this little community has raised almost $10,000 for conservation causes around the world — a huge accomplishment! And each month, thanks to the ongoing support of paid subscribers, we have about $300 ready to add to those donations.

But there’s a lot more to do and the more I travel, the more I realize how small amounts of funding from communities like FUZZ can make a big difference for scientists around the world. But here’s the tough bit: Substack just isn’t growing in the way that I had hoped. Part of this may be the platform — Substack’s cultivated an audience that’s mostly interested in political content, and while politics occasionally touches on the issues in this newsletter, I’ve consciously tried to not make it the main focus. But that means there aren’t too many other readers necessarily looking for wildlife updates here, too.

And part of it may be the posts — I’d love any suggestions on what would make this newsletter more engaging for you, or if you’re a free subscriber, what changes might convince you to upgrade to paid, remembering of course that 100% of all paid support goes directly to conservation organizations we choose together each month.

But I suspect more than anything, it’s just a matter of time. Everyone’s inbox is inundated with interesting information and urgent appeals, and even with the best of intentions, it’s easy to get lost in the shuffle.

So here’s the changes I’m going to make. This newsletter won’t go away — I really enjoy writing for you all — but I’m going to focus on one really high quality update for you each week, based as much as I can on something I’m discovering out in the world. It’ll land on Friday mornings, so hopefully it can become a trusted weekend read.

And with that added time, we’re going to focus more on new platforms to grow our community here. That means a lot more videos from around the world — video posts are generally the most popular on FUZZ, and by making more of them, not only will we give you a deeper way to understand these stories but hopefully we can grow this community to be larger on TikTok, YouTube and Instagram, all of which have more of an audience that’s engaged with conservation causes and that we can bring back to Substack.

And when those videos are ready to release, paid subscribers on FUZZ will be the first to get a sneak preview.

I hope you enjoy the new, more visual version of FUZZ and that together, we can continue to raise more money for the scientists and advocates doing work to save animals and the habitats in which they live. And as always, I’m reachable at dan@fuzz.net with any suggestions and ideas.

Now onto the very high heights above the Nevada desert.

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A tree famous enough to appear on currency

One of the very first FUZZ films we’re working on is about the bristlecone pines in Nevada and California, which are the oldest non-clonal organisms on the planet. Look for the full video in August, but here’s an intro to one of the trees we met after a crushing 13-mile hike yesterday.

If you've ever fumbled through your pocket change and pulled out a Nevada state quarter, you've held a tiny portrait of one of the planet's most ancient living creatures. The gnarled, twisted tree depicted on that 25-cent piece isn't just any pine — it's a Great Basin bristlecone pine, and the specific specimen that posed for the U.S. Mint is still growing today on a windswept ridge in Nevada's White Mountains, quietly adding another ring to its nearly five-thousand-year story.

The bristlecone pines of the American West represent some of the oldest known living organisms on Earth. While coastal redwoods grow tall and sequoias grow massive, these high-altitude survivors specialize in persistence. They've weathered everything our planet could throw at them: ice ages, droughts, volcanic eruptions, and the rise and fall of entire civilizations. Some were already ancient when the pyramids were built, and they were middle-aged when humans first figured out how to work iron. The secret to their longevity lies in their harsh environment — growing slowly in thin air, poor soil, and extreme weather actually helps them live longer. It's the botanical equivalent of "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Finding these living monuments requires commitment. The hike to the bristlecone pine groves follows Snake Ridge, a serpentine (and sometimes barely there) path that climbs through one of North America's most unforgiving landscapes. At almost 11,000 feet above sea level, the air is thin enough to make every step painful, and the rocky terrain demands careful footing. But as you ascend, something magical happens — the landscape strips away everything unnecessary, leaving only the essential elements of earth, sky, and these impossibly resilient trees clinging to life in conditions that would kill almost any other plant.

The Quarter Tree earned its nickname after being selected as the model for Nevada's “America the Beautiful” state quarter, minted in 2013. Unlike some of its more famous cousins — including the tragic case of Prometheus, a 4,900-year-old bristlecone that was cut down by researchers in 1964 — the Quarter Tree continues its patient vigil over Great Basin. Forest Service officials now carefully protect the locations of the oldest specimens, having learned hard lessons about the irreplaceable value of these ancient witnesses. The tree's distinctive silhouette, with its gnarled trunk and sparse crown shaped by millennia of high-altitude winds, captured the imagination of mint designers who wanted to represent Nevada's rugged endurance.

Standing among the bristlecone pines on Snake Ridge, you're in the presence of living history that predates written records. The Quarter Tree could have been a thousand years old when Jesus was born, already ancient when the Library of Alexandria was at its peak. Each ring in its trunk represents another year of survival in one of Earth's most challenging environments. While most trees would perish in these conditions, bristlecones have evolved to thrive here, their dense wood and waxy needles perfectly adapted to the thin air and brutal temperature swings of the high desert.

What makes encountering the Quarter Tree particularly moving is knowing that this same gnarled survivor now travels in millions of pockets across America. Every time someone receives a Nevada quarter in change, they're carrying a tiny tribute to persistence and endurance. In a world that often feels ephemeral, there's something comforting about hiking to meet these patient survivors — especially knowing that while you're reading this, somewhere high in the mountains, the Quarter Tree is still slowly, steadily, adding another microscopic layer to its five-thousand-year story.