“I realised I had to understand the forest in order to make a difference.” Why Hilda chose Forest & Landscape

The first time she typed “how do you become a forester?” into a search bar, she was fifteen. Seven years later, she found herself in front of the same kind of screen again — but this time she clicked further. SLU’s bachelor’s programmes appeared, and one in particular caught her attention: Forest & Landscape in Alnarp.

“I didn’t actually want to apply at first,” she says, smiling at the memory. “It was taught in English, and that made me nervous.”

But something about the combination stuck.

“Forest and landscape just felt so useful. I knew I wanted to work with forests, and I quickly realised that you have to see the whole landscape to make good decisions. That’s true whether you’re working with national parks, recreational areas or forest planning. Everything is connected.”

Nature has been a constant presence in Hilda’s life. Her grandfather owns forest land, her mother had a deep connection to nature, and her father is an avid hiker and skier.

“I think I inherited it,” she says.

An education where boots matter as much as books

That background says a lot about Hilda. She was the child who came home from Friluftsfrämjandet’s Saturday activities with pine needles in her hair; the teenager who got angry about Black Friday; the preschool teacher who let children dig for worms a little longer than planned — and the ski instructor who believed snow should be treated as something sacred.

When she talks about why Forest & Landscape was the right choice, it all seems obvious. For her, the programme’s strength lies in how it connects nature conservation, human perspectives and biological systems.

And it is genuinely hands-on: excursions, measurements, rain, ants — and boots that get a real workout.

“The studies are both theoretical and practical,” she says. “It’s really enjoyable and instructive to move between different stations in the forest and discuss things with your classmates. In one course, we went to Småland for four days, and SLU covered both accommodation and minibuses. It feels like a luxury to visit places we probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise.”

When climate anxiety meets knowledge (and wet socks)

Climate issues are always present in Hilda’s life, but they don’t control her. Instead, the programme has given her tools to deal with that concern.

“The more I learn, the clearer it becomes what I can actually influence,” she says. “You have to know your enemy — if you want to change something, you first need to understand how it works. Otherwise, the anxiety becomes paralysing.”

She talks about how she has come to understand the importance of controlled burns, the role of wetlands, and why forests are planted the way they are.

“I step straight into wetlands and get completely soaked,” she says with a laugh. “But now I know why they matter, so I can’t even be annoyed — except maybe at my socks.”

Guiding new forest owners towards sustainable choices

When the conversation turns to the future, Hilda becomes more focused.

“I want to become a professional forester and work with new forest owners,” she says.

She likes meeting people at the very beginning of their relationship with their forest — and guiding them through decisions that affect both nature and the future.

“If someone is worried about wetlands, I can show maps of drainage ditches we could restore. If someone cares about insects, we can look at old trees and decide to keep them. Many people also have mushroom or berry spots that are important to preserve. It feels good to be part of the solution, not the problem.”

More than a programme: a pathway into future environmental work

Now, two years into the programme, Hilda can confidently say that her worries about studying in English were unfounded.

“English is much easier than you think,” she says.

But that’s not what she emphasises when talking to others who are considering the programme. What really matters, she believes, is the opportunity to make a difference.

“If you care about nature, the environment, the climate — study something that gives you real knowledge. I feel like I can have an impact now. That creates hope. The teachers are very clear that humans are the biggest threat, but they also show which solutions actually work. That makes it easier to keep going.”

She also values the international mix in her class.

“Everyone has different perspectives. Hearing how forestry and nature conservation are handled in other countries is incredibly inspiring. We can learn so much from each other — and you become smarter by listening to more than one reality.”

Being part of something larger than yourself

When I ask what the forest means to her, Hilda leans back and thinks for a moment.

“The forest teaches us that everything important takes time,” she says finally. “And that what we do now matters long after we’re gone.”

It’s a quiet thought, but it carries weight. And perhaps that’s exactly why Hilda chose this path: to work with something that isn’t just about the present, but about the future we leave behind.