In lieu of an introduction, this chapter takes its cue from a rather curious statement: “I am not a tree hugger.” It argues that how one positions oneself (even ironically) regarding one’s status as a tree hugger reveals a lot about one’s stance toward trees (e.g., their potential sentience) and how science and storytelling should or shouldn’t be connected. Interestingly, it is difficult to predict whether a writer will reject or embrace the label of “tree hugger.” Every profession and discipline that deals with human-nature relationships has its share of tree huggers. For example, dendrochronologist Valerie Trouet explicitly states, “I love trees, but I am not a tree hugger” (Trouet 2020). In contrast, one of the scientists in Lauren E. Oakes’s In Search of the Canary Tree (2018) is determined to “hug (and measure the diameter of) absolutely every tree in the study” [Oakes, In Search of the Canary Tree: The Story of a Scientist, a Cypress, and a Changing World. 1st ed. New York, NY: Basic Books (2018)]. Each case serves as a shortcut to explain and legitimize a specific perspective on trees and provides a way to introduce a writer’s personal relationship with these giant plants. Along the different stances toward hugging trees, I will unfold the practices that will guide my analysis throughout this book and introduce their role in making kin with trees as an epistemological-affective practice. This approach also allows me to situate myself in relation to trees and tree research, measuring my distance (or lack thereof) from arboreal beings and texts.