The sky over Montreal turns a strange copper hue as I step out of a community center in Little Burgundy. It’s the third consecutive day of wildfire smoke drifting into the city this summer. Nearby, Mia Leclerc, a 67-year-old neighborhood resident, guides me toward a newly planted row of red maples along a previously barren stretch of concrete.
“When I was a child, this street had elm trees taller than these buildings,” she tells me, gesturing toward the five-story apartment complexes. “After they died from disease, nobody replaced them. Now the summers are unbearable here.”
The trees Leclerc shows me represent a small victory in Canada’s increasingly contradictory approach to urban forestry. Last week, the federal government announced a $38.5 million expansion to its urban tree-planting initiatives across Canadian municipalities, while simultaneously cutting $12.3 million from its own federal lands greening program.
“We’re giving with one hand and taking with the other,” explains Dr. Suzanne Richardson, urban forestry researcher at the University of British Columbia. “Municipal tree programs are vital, but federal properties—from post offices to government buildings—represent massive land assets that need trees too.”
According to Environment and Climate Change Canada, the expanded municipal program aims to plant 350,000 additional trees in cities nationwide by 2030. The initiative prioritizes neighborhoods with less than 15% tree canopy coverage, which often correlates with lower-income communities and areas with higher proportions of rental housing.
Walking through Little Burgundy with local community organizer Jean-Michel Baptiste, I notice the stark contrast between tree-lined affluent streets and exposed concrete corridors where temperatures feel noticeably higher.
“Trees aren’t luxury items—they’re infrastructure,” Baptiste says as we pass a treeless playground where children seek narrow strips of shade. “When we map heat-related emergency room visits in Montreal, they spike in neighborhoods with fewer trees. It’s that simple.”
For many urban Canadians, trees have become central to conversations about climate adaptation. Environment Canada data shows that urban areas experience temperatures up to 12°C higher than surrounding rural regions during summer heat waves, a phenomenon known as the urban heat island effect. A mature tree can provide cooling equivalent to ten air conditioners running for 20 hours a day.
“We’re not just planting trees because they’re pretty,” says Darius Wong, director of Toronto’s Parks and Urban Forestry Division. “We’re building natural infrastructure that reduces flooding, filters air pollution, and literally saves lives during heat events.”
Wong’s department will receive approximately $4.2 million from the expanded federal program, allowing them to accelerate planting in Toronto’s northwestern neighborhoods, where tree cover has historically been minimal. However, the program’s implementation has faced criticism from some municipal leaders.
“The funding comes with good intentions but insufficient maintenance budgets,” notes Calgary Mayor Jyoti Gondek. “Planting trees is the easy part. Keeping them alive for decades requires long-term investment that municipalities often can’t afford.”
The irony isn’t lost on environmental advocates that as municipalities receive federal funds for urban trees, the government’s own properties are losing green investment. Parks Canada and Public Services Canada will see reductions in landscaping and tree planting budgets under the restructuring.
The simultaneous expansion and contraction of tree initiatives reflects broader tensions within Canada’s climate adaptation strategy. While tree planting garners political goodwill and photo opportunities, the less visible work of maintaining urban forests often faces budget constraints.
“We’re treating trees like campaign promises instead of critical infrastructure,” says Richardson. “A newly planted sapling provides about 1% of the environmental benefits of a 30-year-old tree. Protecting existing trees should be our first priority.”
Back in Montreal, Leclerc points to a massive, century-old silver maple standing in a small park. “That single tree does more for this neighborhood than all these new saplings combined,” she observes. “During last summer’s heat wave, people gathered under it like it was an oasis.”
Urban forestry experts agree. According to a 2023 study from McGill University, mature urban trees provide exponentially greater benefits than young trees, particularly for carbon sequestration and cooling effects. The research estimates that a 40-year-old urban maple provides roughly 70 times the climate benefit of a five-year-old tree of the same species.
For communities on the frontlines of climate change, trees represent more than environmental assets. Samantha Dallaire, a nurse at Montreal General Hospital, witnesses the human cost of urban heat firsthand.
“Every summer, we see more elderly patients with heat stress,” she tells me as we walk past a newly planted urban orchard in the hospital district. “Many live in apartments without air conditioning, often in neighborhoods with minimal tree cover. It’s a public health crisis hiding in plain sight.”
The current federal approach attempts to address historical inequities in urban tree distribution. Maps of urban tree canopy across Canadian cities reveal striking correlations with income and property values. In Vancouver, neighborhoods with the highest proportion of rental housing have 30% less tree cover than areas dominated by owner-occupied homes, according to CityGreen, a non-profit urban forestry group.
Indigenous urban communities have also identified culturally relevant approaches to urban forestry that go beyond standard municipal plantings. In Winnipeg, the Urban Native Habitat Restoration Project integrates traditional knowledge into tree selection and placement.
“We’re not just planting trees; we’re rebuilding relationships with the land,” explains project coordinator Leanne Betasamosake Simpson. “Each tree species has cultural significance and specific uses that connect urban Indigenous residents to traditional practices.”
As climate change intensifies summer heat and extreme weather events, Canada’s approach to urban trees reflects broader questions about climate adaptation. Will investments favor visible but less effective new plantings, or will they support the less photogenic work of maintaining and protecting existing tree canopy?
For Mia Leclerc, watching the new saplings being watered on her block, the answer seems obvious. “These little trees give us hope,” she says. “But that big old maple over there? That gives us life right now, when we need it most.”
