At the heart of Europe, in western Germany, near the border to France and Belgium, a scrap of ancient forest holds thousand-year-old trees along with abundant wildlife. But there's another species living there in the forest as well — our own.

About 150 people currently live in what's left of Hambach forest, many in makeshift tree houses. Although living in a tree house may appear idyllic, many of the environmental activists have uprooted their lives for the better part of six years — living without electricity and running water — to protect the forest, and take a stance against the power of the fossil fuel industry.

Several hundred police officers accompanied RWE workers for protection as they visited the forest on Wednesday, September 5, to expel the protesters in preparation for clearing. Although the operation was mostly peaceful, one activist was arrested after resisting police.

Activists joke about their "dangerous weapons," such as an empty fire extinguisher. Just days before the police action on September 5, Herbert Reul, the interior minister for the state of North Rhine-Westphalia, warned that police and RWE staff in the Hambach forest were dealing with "extremely violent left-wing extremists." Members of the protest group have denied Reul's description.

Over the years, police have clashed with protesters in the Hambach forest. In 2017, police employed pepper spray to disperse protesters in advance of planned logging. The looming eviction is likely to result in the largest confrontation there yet.

Here is the result of a recent RWE clearing campaign, which ran from October 2016 to March 2017. In the background, the smokestacks of the Niederaussem power station can be seen. With a CO2 output of more than 29 million tons yearly, this is Europe's third-dirtiest power plant. Due to massive toxic emissions such as mercury and sulfur, it is also considered Germany's second-most-toxic power plant.

"Clumsy" has lived among the treetops in the Hambach forest since the resistance against the RWE coalmine project began in 2012. He believes the battle over the forest is a critical turning point for German climate policy, and the government's decision is one between "giving in to the lignite hardliners, [or] protecting our life support basis on this planet."

Only about 10 percent of the once sprawling Hambach forest has survived the mine's onslaught. What's left appears miniscule in comparison to the vast expanse of the mine, which already covers about 85 square kilometers (33 square miles). But environmentalists say the forest holds enormous ecological value, and is home to abundant and biodiverse ecology, including endangered animal species.

The Hambach mine, located between Aachen and Cologne, is Germany's largest open-cast mine. Here, RWE uses enormous excavators to extract brown coal, also known as lignite, from the earth. Lignite is among the fossil fuels that emit the most carbon dioxide when burned. What remains of Hambach forest is the last bastion in a long battle against the expansion of the mine.

Environmental activists have undertaken nonviolent resistance against the RWE coal mine expansion for more than six years. Through their actions, they claim to not only want to save the Hambach forest from destruction, but also send a message to the world about the dangerous consequences of prioritizing fossil fuel extraction over important ecological sites.

Activists from all over the world have supported the action by staying for days or weeks at a time. Over the past six years, activists have literally built up an alternative community within the forest. Although it is still unclear what exactly will happen in the struggle between the protesters and the fossil fuel giant, potential eviction is an ever-present possibility for the forest dwellers.

At least 6,000 people gathered in the heart of western German coal country Saturday to demand an end to coal use. People from around the world joined forces with a local movement that started back in 2012 with a handful of activists trying to stop the expansion of a brown coal mine and save the last 200 hectares of the millennia-old Hambach Forest. The message was clear: Coal is a global problem.

The protestors spanned many ages and walks of life. There were young activists dressed in wigs or hazmat suits, but also families and the elderly. People with reduced mobility followed the march at their own pace. A nine-year-old boy was keen to voice his view on the dirty fossil fuel, telling DW he was worried about his future but expected the authorities to do the right thing and give up coal.

Demonstrators split up, some continuing the authorized protest while others took direct action to block coal infrastructure. A hundred people tried to stop the diggers at two nearby coal mines; close to 40 people were arrested. Trying to reach the train line, another 1,000 protestors ended up on the nearby A4 highway, resulting in around 250 arrests. Both the diggers and traffic were stopped.

A third group was determined to block the railway transporting coal from the Hambach mine to the three power plants where it is destined to be burned. They had their work cut out, with police attempting to block the activists from approaching the railway. In the end they had to change their route several times, running through fields and navigating dense forest to reach their target.

On route to the rail lines, there were no major clashes with police but the atmosphere was extremely tense. Police officers on horseback followed protesters up to the edge of the forest, preventing them from changing course. Outbreaks of nerves rippled through activists and horses — without it being clear who triggered what.

Once the protesters entered the forest, the situation became more fraught. They had to walk carefully to avoid tripping over branches while dodging the police — who physically shoved them as they approached — or each other as, from time to time, the crowd suddenly surged without warning.

In the midst of the chaos, activists called for calm, shouting to one another to stick together and remain peaceful. They held on to each other so no one would fall, get lost, or get caught by the police. Others conferred over the best route to proceed toward the rail line.

Eventually, thousands of protesters arrived at the rail lines. Police officers initially tried to prevent them from climbing down on the tracks, but they were outnumbered. Activists had hung guide ropes down the slopes beforehand, but most people simply slid, ran or tumbled down the bank. Within just a few minutes, the railway was engulfed in a crowd of protestors.

After an exhausting two-hour scramble, protesters sat down for a rest. The weather was bitingly cold, but there was an air of cheer as the crowd made itself comfortable on the tracks. For now at least, the energy companies couldn't transport coal from mines to their power plants — a victory celebrated under the watchful eyes of police on the hills above.

The police warned that the direct action was illegal, and offered protesters the chance to abandon their blockade without penalties. But most stayed put overnight. Organizers said their protest blocked coal infrastructure for around 24 hours — which they judged a success. The last 50 to leave the protest had chained themselves to the tracks and had to be forcibly evicted one by one.