The Talmud goes further and says that Solomon (and others like Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai) actually spoke the language of the trees, as well as the language of the birds and other animals.
Trees, both physically and as metaphor, show up quite a lot in the Jewish tradition. The holiday of Tu B'Shvat (
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tu_Bishvat), the New Year of the Trees, is based on the Biblical commandment to allow a newly planted tree to bear fruit for three years before it can be harvested. Part of the contemporary observance of the holiday is the Tu B'Shvat seder meal in which various fruits are eaten and 4 cups of differently-colored wines are drunk representing the kabbalistic Four Worlds.
Here's a pretty cool Tu B'Shvat Haggadah:
http://www.joshandrachel.org/documents/ ... ggadah.pdf"Trees, Earth, and Torah: A Tu B'Shvat Anthology," is a really great resource for anyone interested in learning more about Jewish perspectives on trees in particular and ecological concepts in general and the myriad connections to other cultures and belief systems.
The book includes this beautiful poem by Marcia Falk, written for a Tu B'Shvat seder/protest held in an ancient redwood forest in 1997 where a couple hundred people "trespassed" onto land owned by a corporation intent on cutting down the trees and planted redwood saplings. This is only part of the poem:
1.
Here we are. We are here.
And why, when here, do we always want more?
2.
Here you are, back
in the redwood forest --
how tall the fir trees,
how delicate the pines!
Standing on the winter-dark earth,
you suddenly know these trees
will be your gravestone.
Nothing stirs -- but what
are those sounds?
You balance on the edge
while under your feet
the mushrooms smolder
and the unborn ferns
hum in their bed.
3.
If you sit long enough in the woods,
nothing happens.
Just the earth's breath rising and falling
up and down treetrunks
which go copper-green in the air
as if oxidized.
Just your own breath warming a spot of earth
while your heart beats
and you begin, like all the creatures,
to repeat yourself --
the same thoughts entering your mind --
entering, leaving --
while yearnings rise and fall
like the tails of startled squirrels.
4.
"'And trees -- you're allowed to kill trees?'
a small boy blurted..."
5.
"You do not belong to you,
you belong to the universe,"
and you will be reclaimed
by its constant, ever-changing heart --
your wise body
and your spacious mind
whether you are ready
or not
when you are joyful
or not,
even as you turn away --
to be buffeted
and set aloft,
a twig in the wind.