Posts Tagged ‘ailing trees’
Stunted Growth
For all the glorious trees we get to enjoy in our woods, there are plenty that are far from thriving. It can be frustrating to watch a tree year after year and not see healthy growth. I try to console myself with the fact that they haven’t completely died yet, but the way they linger for years without new signs of vigor just ends up being a long, slow slide toward eventually disappearing.
There are a couple of pines in our north loop field that serve as examples of what I am talking about.
In both cases, look at the fullness of the trees behind them. These scrawny trees are missing something the other trees are getting. I don’t know whether all the pines in this area were intentionally planted years ago, but I suspect most of them were, and I believe many of them were put in the ground with the roots poorly arranged. We’ve lost quite a few that looked like the trees were strangled by their own roots.
This field is also heavily trafficked by deer. They can be pretty ruthless on small trees. The little tree in the image above has a big portion of its middle munched. I’ve decided to gamble on letting the deer have some trees and hoping there will be enough other sprouts that grow past the most vulnerable stage and become future contributors to an overhead canopy I envision happening in our north loop field someday.
I don’t expect to have any ash trees being a part of that future.
If you’ve never seen the damage caused by the emerald ash borer beetle, we’ve got plenty of evidence for exhibit A.
There are probably as many ailing trees in our woods as there are healthy ones. A forest certainly isn’t a static system. Birth and death are happening constantly, so I never try to think of it as needing to exist in one specific way. I feel good about trying to help the more desirable trees flourish and being conscientious about controlling any takeover by invasives.
I’m choosing not to fight to avoid losing some types of trees and hoping that whichever trees successfully adapt to the warming climate and increasingly destructive storms will make for an inviting forest to visit for many years after I’m gone.
If we keep seeing occurrences of stunted growth like the pines in the north loop, that future forest I’m envisioning will just take a longer time to happen.
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Sad Looking
Interestingly, two of our saddest-looking trees out in the open happen to be next to each other on either side of our driveway. We’ve been watching the first one die slowly for several years.
According to one of the arborists who has done work on our property, it is some hybrid version of a maple. I’ve long been suspicious of the looks of the tangle of roots at its base. It is possible that it is choking itself. There is a seam up the trunk where I believe it cracked open during one of our extreme cold snaps. A large portion in the middle that was all dead wood has been cut out.
Even though it’s not pretty to look at, I am in no hurry to cut it down. I’ll let the portions that are still living continue to show off their tenacity. I suppose it aligns with my idea of appreciating imperfection.
The other candidate for saddest-looking is the remaining 25% of the big, old willow tree.
At just a fraction of its old self, the gaping wounds on the trunk from the three large sections that collapsed really make the tree look like it is doomed. However, given my experience with the neighboring willow tree that should be long dead in the small paddock, I won’t count this one out.
Do you see where Asher is in that picture? He and I had a little extra excitement yesterday. On a walk along the path around the hay field fence, he ventured off the mowed trail to take care of some business where we don’t need to pick it up. He started to return to the path after he was finished, but something caught his attention, and he was soon rustling around in the very thick, tall grass in the middle of the drainage swale.
Suddenly, there was an eruption of angry small-animal screeching as Asher and some critter got into a battle. Not being able to see anything through the thick growth, I hollered commands at him to leave it and come to me, but there was enough noise coming from the fracas that my shouts proved fruitless. It took me a few seconds to ramp up the level of his shock collar to where I got a response, but it worked to perfection.
He let me know with a yelp and an instant sprint from the scene to beside me on the trail. He struggled mightily with a pressing urge to return to the scene, requiring constant verbal redirects from me until we got back to the house. Even then, I was highly suspicious of him taking off to check it out again if I failed to pay close attention.
I’ve found reasons to choose alternate routes on our walks for the time being. It’s a good thing we have plenty of squirrels up around the house to hold his attention. Yes, squirrels in the trees, moles tunneling in the ground, and mice hiding in stumps are his usual targets. I’m inclined to guess it was a raccoon he found in the grass, and I’d rather he not tangle with critters that can put up a fight like those masked bandits do.
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