INTERVIEW WITH BRICK REILLY

We recently spoke with tree expert and competitive tree climber Brick Reilly about the craft of arboriculture, our landscapes that matter most to him, and the role our community plays in supporting healthy natural spaces.

What first drew you to the field of arboriculture, and what led you to working with Millburn Township’s shade tree team?

For most people, a tree is a backdrop. But for me, as a child, a tree was a sanctuary. Growing up as the only profoundly deaf person in my family and community, I lived in a state of disconnect. Looking for a place where I didn’t feel broken or left behind, I found my way into the branches. Up in the canopy, hearing didn’t matter.

As I grew older, that refuge evolved into something more dangerous. I started free-climbing, taking massive risks just to feel a rush of adrenaline and prove to myself that I was capable and in control. Then everything changed because of a single conversation with a stranger. They told me, “You can do this for a living. You can climb trees professionally.” I went home, looked it up online, and never looked back.

When I landed my first job with Millburn Township, my initial motivation was a better financial opportunity. But Millburn gave me steady ground, and I threw myself into continuing education, advanced rigging, and scientific tree care. What started as a job quickly transformed into an elite-level pursuit of professionalism.

How did growing up deaf shape your perspective, both personally and professionally?

Growing up deaf in a hearing world taught me early on how to navigate spaces that weren’t built for me. Personally, it gave me a profound sense of self-reliance. You become deeply attuned to body language, visual cues, environmental shifts, and energy. It forged a resilience.

Professionally, that perspective translates directly into arboriculture. Because I rely heavily on sight and feeling, my spatial awareness in the canopy is sharp. The silence that defines my world allows for hyperfocus on the task at hand. Being deaf in an industry dominated by auditory communication has also taught me to engineer my own solutions. The very thing that once isolated me became the ultimate tool for mastery.

You spoke at ArborEXPO last year. What was the focus of your session?

I wanted to stand at ArborEXPO like a lighthouse for other tree workers and move the conversation beyond rigging techniques or climbing gear and focus on mental resilience and longevity in tree work. I talked about misogi, the idea of taking on something so difficult it resets your understanding of your own limits. In arboriculture, you are only as safe and strong as the crew on the ground and in the canopy beside you.

Are there particular trees or areas in Millburn that you especially enjoy working with or seeing thrive?

The Cora Hartshorn Arboretum and Bird Sanctuary holds a completely unique place in my heart and work. Stepping into that sanctuary feels like stepping back into a past life. The arboretum’s veteran trees are my absolute favorites to look at, yet the greatest lesson maturity teaches an arborist is restraint. Those ancient trees are living archives that demand deep reverence.

What are some simple things homeowners can do to help keep the trees on their properties healthy?

When mulching, follow the “donut, not volcano” rule, ensuring the root flare is visible. Water trees wisely during droughts, especially young ones. Protect the root zone, because most roots live in the top 12 inches of soil. Never let anyone top a tree. And watch for early warning signs like canopy dieback, mushrooms at the base, deep cracks, sudden leaning, or insect activity.

Why is community education important when it comes to maintaining trees and natural spaces?

Trees are truly the lungs of the earth, but keeping those lungs healthy takes more than a crew with chainsaws and ropes. It takes a community. When residents understand why trees matter—how they manage stormwater, cool neighborhoods, and clean our air—they stop seeing trees as mere lawn ornaments or sources of falling leaves. When residents and the field crew are on the same page, we work together to protect the canopy.

Photograph courtesy of Brick Reilly