When you hear the phrase “10 people who” choose to call a tree their home, you might picture a whimsical childhood game or a fleeting adventure. Yet, across the globe, a surprisingly diverse cast of characters have taken the leap—some out of protest, others out of necessity, and a few simply out of love for the leafy heights. Below, we dive into the remarkable lives of ten individuals and groups who have turned trunks and branches into real‑world residences.
1 Early Settlers In The Wild West
When the timber rush of the late 1800s stripped the Pacific Northwest of its ancient giants, pioneer families arriving by wagon found themselves staring at a landscape littered with massive, freshly‑cut stumps. Some of these stumps rose a full three metres (about ten feet) above the forest floor, offering a sturdy platform amidst the devastation.
Enter the most resourceful of the newcomers: clever homesteaders who saw potential where others saw debris. Rather than clearing the stumps entirely, they slapped a roof atop each and added a door, birthing what became known as “stump homes.” These modest shelters provided immediate shelter for families eager to claim a foothold in the untamed West.
Beyond mere habitation, the stumps served multiple community purposes. Some were leveled into flat gathering spots for folk dances—so‑called “stump dances”—where settlers swayed to fiddles under the open sky. One particularly notable stump was transformed into the very first U.S. Post Office on the remote Olympic Peninsula, a historic landmark that still stands as a testament to frontier ingenuity.
These early adaptations illustrate how necessity can spark creativity, turning a raw, felled tree into a lasting piece of American frontier heritage.
2 Claustrophobic Shawnee Chasser
Shawnee Chasser, a vibrant purple‑haired grandmother with a lifelong fear of enclosed spaces, found her sanctuary high above the ground. Since 1992 she has tended a half‑acre backyard oasis in Miami‑Dade County, complete with a man‑made pond and a cascading waterfall, all perched in a tree house that defied conventional building codes.
Her aerial abode soon drew the attention of local authorities. Miami‑Dade officials declared the structure unsafe, despite its proven resilience during Hurricane Andrew. Code‑enforcement officer Ricardo Roig admitted, “This has got to be my first time ever of somebody living in a tree house,” underscoring the novelty of her situation.
Roig offered a compromise: Chasser could remain if she secured a legal, code‑compliant tree house and obtained proper zoning approval. However, the cost of hiring engineers and architects far exceeded her modest income from selling organic popcorn to Whole Foods.
Undeterred, Chasser famously vowed, “I’m not taking down anything. I’ll chain myself to that tree house.” While later video footage suggested she faced demolition pressures in 2018, the story of her defiant stand continues to inspire conversations about personal freedom, zoning law, and the human desire to live among the leaves.
3 Barefoot Nomad Mick Dodge
Mick Dodge has spent nearly three decades roaming the Hoh Rain Forest of the Pacific Northwest, making moss‑laden tree stumps his ever‑changing bedroom. He describes his lifestyle as that of a “barefoot nomad,” rejecting shoes in favor of direct contact with the earth, which he believes activates over 200,000 nerves in his feet, turning them into a living compass.
Each dawn, Dodge forages for breakfast, scavenging whatever the forest provides—from roadkill to an elk felled by a mountain lion. He spends much of his free time reading; if a book resonates, he plants a tree and shares the volume, otherwise he repurposes the pages for fire or even as makeshift toilet paper.
His philosophy is simple: the forest is both his home and his teacher. “There’s not a better bedroom in the world!” he says, emphasizing the intimacy of sleeping beneath a canopy of moss and bark.
Dodge’s unconventional existence caught the eye of National Geographic, which featured him in the series “The Legend of Mick Dodge.” When asked about public perception after the show aired, he replied with characteristic candor, “I have no idea and don’t give a s—t.” His story continues to challenge modern notions of comfort and security.
4 Lumberjack Jim Allen
In the turbulent 1930s, California lumberjack Jim Allen found refuge from a raging storm by sheltering inside the charred trunk of a towering redwood. Grateful for the tree’s protection, he resolved to create a permanent home from the very wood that saved him.
Allen purchased a massive fallen redwood—four metres in diameter and a staggering 81 metres tall—and, with the aid of a fellow worker, meticulously hand‑carved a three‑room dwelling directly from the stump. The exterior still resembles a fallen giant, while the interior boasts smooth, varnished walls that highlight the natural grain.
Equipped with electricity installed in the 1940s and even a refrigerator, the log house merges rustic charm with modest modern comforts. Visitors can tour the site along Highway 101 near Garberville, paying a small fee to step inside this unique piece of living history.
Allen’s handcrafted masterpiece stands as a testament to human ingenuity and the enduring bond between people and the trees that surround them.
5 Tree House Villages In The Forests Of Germany
For six straight years, activists have erected a cluster of tree‑house villages within Germany’s Hambach Forest, a 12,000‑year‑old woodland threatened by coal mining. The forest, once the size of Manhattan, has been whittled down after energy giant RWE acquired the land in the late 1970s.
Protesters responded by building a network of connected tree houses—affectionately dubbed “Lazytown” and “Cozytown”—that serve as both living quarters and symbolic barricades. Each structure runs on solar power, offers internet connectivity, and is reachable only by rope ladders, making it impossible for RWE to fell the supporting trees.
The community functions as a collaborative hub, fostering solidarity among environmentalists who have occupied the canopy since 2012. However, in September 2018, authorities began forcibly dismantling the camp, leading to a tragic incident where journalist Steffen Meyn fell from a suspension bridge and died, temporarily halting the evictions.
The fate of these arboreal activists remains uncertain, but their tree‑house villages continue to embody resistance against ecological destruction.
6 Self‑Reliant Nick Weston
By 2050, forecasts predict that two‑thirds of humanity will reside in bustling cities. For Nick Weston, the urban grind proved unsatisfying, prompting him to abandon a London job and sky‑high rent in favor of a more elemental lifestyle.
Weston spent six months deep in Ashdown Forest, subsisting on foraged herbs, rabbit, pigeon, and eel. He erected a one‑room tree house atop an English oak, constructing it entirely from reclaimed and dumpster‑dived materials, including a wood‑burning stove fashioned from a 208‑liter steel drum.He reflects, “The tree house was a symbol for rekindling the spirit of the child within, recapturing the days when there were few worries, and anything seemed possible.” His modest dwelling exemplifies a growing movement of youth who reject material excess in pursuit of experiential fulfillment.
Weston’s story underscores how self‑reliance and a return to nature can offer profound personal renewal, even in the heart of a modern forest.
7 Luxurious Tree House Community
Deep within Costa Rica’s rain‑forest lies Finca Bellavista, a 600‑acre sanctuary boasting forty solar‑powered tree houses. Founded by Matt Hogan and Erica Andrews, the community emerged after they secured the land from timber exploitation, creating a haven for eco‑conscious adventurers.
Visitors describe the experience as “complete immersion”—falling asleep to the chorus of insects and frogs, and waking to birdsong. The structures vary: some rest on locally‑grown teak stilts, while others are anchored directly to ancient trees, with the most spectacular perched 27 metres (90 feet) above ground, approved by an on‑site botanist.
Finca Bellavista markets itself as “the world’s first planned, sustainable tree‑house development,” accessible only via zip‑lines, suspension bridges, and winding trails. While some critique the ever‑present mosquitoes and off‑grid challenges, many are drawn to this burgeoning niche of luxury arboreal living.
The community exemplifies how modern design can harmonize with nature, offering a glimpse into a possible future where comfort and conservation coexist.
8 95‑Year‑Old Njuguna Ng’ang’a
For four years, 95‑year‑old Njuguna Ng’ang’a of Kenya called the hollow of an Eucalyptus tree his home, a circumstance forced upon him by sheer circumstance. “Life drove me here,” he confessed, his memory fading as age took its toll.
Lacking any legal identification, Ng’ang’a could not access government assistance. He often gave conflicting details about his name and origins, a symptom of his dwindling recollection. Yet, he survived within the tree, protected from the surrounding snake‑infested area.
A local schoolboy eventually discovered his arboreal residence and alerted nearby villagers. The community rallied, supplying food, blankets, and basic care. Kenyan TV channel NTV highlighted his story during a national celebration of the elderly, noting the miraculous nature of his survival amidst venomous snakes.
Two weeks after the media spotlight, social services intervened, relocating Ng’ang’a to a government‑funded home. He remarked, “I don’t have many days left to live, maybe five years, and this will be my resting place when my days are over,” expressing a poignant acceptance of his final chapter.
9 The Korowai People
High in the canopy of Papua, Indonesia, the Korowai tribe maintains a centuries‑old tradition of building homes among the treetops. Isolated until the 1970s, these communities were once rumored to practice cannibalism, a practice they have since abandoned.
Each tree house hovers roughly ten metres (33 feet) above the forest floor, with some soaring as high as thirty‑five metres (115 feet). The sturdy platforms accommodate up to a dozen occupants, including family members, pets, and even small livestock.
The reasons for such elevated living are manifold: evading rival groups, warding off malevolent spirits, escaping flooding, and avoiding disease‑carrying mosquitoes. Fire poses the greatest threat; each dwelling features a dedicated fire pit surrounded by a cut‑away floor section designed to contain accidental flames.
These arboreal abodes showcase the Korowai’s ingenuity, blending cultural heritage with practical adaptation to a challenging environment.
10 Activist Julia Butterfly Hill
In 1997, Julia Butterfly Hill ascended a thousand‑year‑old redwood towering 55 metres (180 feet) high, embarking on a protest that would become legendary. Initially intending a one‑week tree‑sit to halt clear‑cutting, her resolve stretched to an astonishing 738 days suspended among the branches.
Throughout that period, Hill endured fierce storms, relentless helicopter overflights, and constant harassment from loggers and security personnel employed by Pacific Lumber Company. She witnessed the surrounding forest’s devastation as clear‑cutting crews razed the ancient grove.
Hill vividly recalls the trauma: “It’s like sitting there and watching your family killed. You listen for hours… a high‑pitched screaming that goes right through your body. And when they stop the chainsaws and pound the wedges, you can feel it.” Her steadfast presence drew global attention to the plight of old‑growth redwoods.
After two years, Pacific Lumber agreed to preserve a 61‑metre (200‑foot) buffer of old‑growth forest around the tree, funded by $50,000 raised by Hill’s supporters. Julia’s courageous stand inspired countless activists worldwide, cementing her legacy in environmental civil disobedience.
Why 10 People Who Choose Tree Living Captivate Our Imagination
From daring activists protecting ancient forests to indigenous families preserving age‑old customs, these ten stories illustrate the myriad ways humans can coexist with nature above ground. Their experiences remind us that trees are more than timber—they are homes, sanctuaries, and symbols of resistance.