Our story
Nobody appointed them.
There was no inauguration, no cape, and no press release that would have survived contact with a chainsaw. They simply stayed, the way moss stays: unremarkable at first, then impossible to miss once you’ve noticed it.
Not superheroes. Incorrigible witnesses.
A Punkybunky is a tree guardian, but please, hold the fanfare. They don’t plunge through burning canopies in slow motion. They stand beside a freshly cleared strip, tilt their heads and ask whether the third access road was really necessary, or merely customary.
They’re slightly absurd, sharp-eyed and a little neurotic about lists. Felling applications, “compensation areas,” slide decks with the word “sustainable” in the title: everything gets filed. Not because anyone asked them to. Because somebody should have asked, and nobody did.
The committee that never adjourned
Like most things that outlast a legislative term, the origin story is a little hazy. One popular version goes like this: at some point a committee formed in the branches. Item one on the agenda: the state of the trees. Item two: the state of the people who make decisions about trees. The committee was never formally closed. The meeting is still in session.
Minutes are being kept. The forest doesn’t sign them. People sign other papers, usually faster.
Minutes, item two
We could call the slope a green project.
It is green.
Not for long. Which makes the name all the more important.
Ongoing
Punkybunkys have a finely tuned ear for that tone of voice. They’re not against progress. They’re against the habit of treating disappearing trees as a footnote, or as a location advantage.
What they watch, and why it’s awkward
Humanity’s enthusiasm for clearing rarely has the charm of a proper villain. It arrives as an appointment, a regulation, an “unfortunately unavoidable.” A grove becomes a route, the route becomes a necessity, the necessity becomes tradition. At the end there’s a sign that still carries the old field name, as if that were some comfort.
The Punkybunkys comment on it dryly. Not because cynicism is a character flaw worth cultivating, but because pathos has accompanied plenty of clear-cuts and stopped very few. In this line of work, a crooked smile is a form of precision.
They remember small things. The tree that survived three heatwave summers and gave way to a driveway in the fourth. The oak that was older than the building everyone called “historic.” The seedling on a balcony that someone kept watering anyway, as if it were nothing. All of it goes in the file: the loss and the stubbornness.
A community, not a fan club
Whoever takes in a Punkybunky (call it adopting, if you like) doesn’t acquire a mascot or an indulgence. They take a seat at a table where arguments have already been had: about a particular beech, say, and about the right moment to become impolite.
The circle is deliberately small. Not a stadium; more of a regulars’ table up in the branches. Exclusivity here doesn’t mean taking yourself seriously. It means you showed up. Status, if we must use the word, isn’t about noise. It’s about staying with the trees even when the subject is out of fashion.
Enjoying yourself is allowed, by the way. Seriousness that smothers every joke has survived entire meetings and changed very little in the forest. The Punkybunkys can handle both: the situation, and a good line that makes it more bearable without making it smaller.
What collecting means, and what it doesn’t
The Punkybunkys live as digital artworks in a collection on OpenSea. Each one is a visible sign that someone has sided with this odd but earnest protection circle. It’s membership in a group that does not consider trees to be decoration.
It is not a knighthood. It is not a financial promise. And it doesn’t replace going outside: planting, protecting, asking questions when “potential” is once again weighing on some patch of woodland. If all you want is a picture in a wallet, you get a picture in a wallet. If you take the pact with you, you get work. The bearable kind, the kind that makes sense.
The collection is introduced properly on The Guardians. If you’d rather read about the state of the forests first, that’s under Tree Protection. The two belong together. The story alone won’t save a single trunk. The numbers alone won’t make anyone pull up a chair. We try both.
And the committee? Still in session. The trees grow slowly. The minutes get longer. All things considered, it isn’t too late. Just later than we’d like.
Adopt a guardian
The meeting is still in session. There’s a chair free.
The Punkybunky collection lives on OpenSea as digital art. Adopting one is optional, reading everything here is free, and the trees have never once asked to see a wallet.
Punkybunkys are digital artworks and a sign of membership in this community. They are not an investment and come with no promise of value. Details in the Legal Notice and the FAQ.