It might seem odd to start a new series with a tree few have heard of (I certainly hadn’t until a few weeks past) but recently, I’ve been bumping into the unassuming Sorbus mougeotii quite a bit in my local area.
Looking similar to the Swedish Whitebeam (Sorbus intermedia), at least to my untrained eye, Mougeot’s Whitebeam (Sorbus mougeotii) is a popular choice for landscapers and here in Newcastle, appears to be widely planted in parks and on reclaimed land. But not always…
The tree shown below was encountered in what appeared to be a wild setting, growing on the Banks of the River Tyne between Newburn and Wylam. In contrast to other local sites, no others were observed nearby.
A confirmed specimen of Mougeot’s Whitebeam at Newburn riverside
Background
The genus name, Sorbus, identifies this plant to family while its species name, mougeotii, refers to French botanist, Jean-Baptiste Mougeot.
Sorbus mougeotii is a moderately sized whitebeam native to the mountains of central and western Europe, from the Pyrenees to the Vosges. Its presence at the latter giving rise to its alternate name of Vosges Whitebeam. It was described in 1858 but wasn’t brought truly into cultivation until the 1950s by the Danish Health Society, and was originally marketed as a cultivar of Swedish Whitebeam.
This tree is widely grown as an ornamental in Northern Europe due to its tolerance of difficult growing conditions, including urban habitats and poor soil. For this reason, it is often used as part of land reclamation schemes.
A closer look at the BSBI distribution map for this species would suggest that it is rarely encountered in the UK, though its similarity to other whitebeams means it is almost certainly under-recorded. Indeed, since having this species pointed out to me, I have noticed it at a total of six sites in only a few weeks.
An interesting paper on the discovery of Sorbus mougoutii and its potential as an invasive species in Ireland can be found here.
Identifying Mougeot’s Whitebeam
A deciduous, multi-stemmed tree growing to approximately 10m, Mougeot’s Whitebeam is most closely related to some of the rare and endemic British whitebeam species, most notable the English Whitebeam, Sorbus anglica. Indeed, the only difference between the two is said to be the slightly broader leaves of the former species.
English Whitebeam is a scarce species in the UK and oddly enough given its name, is found predominately in Wales. There are no records in the North of the UK meaning that up here, Mougeot’s Whitebeam is most likely to be confused with the much more abundant Swedish Whitebeam. A tree that is both naturalised and routinely planted across the UK.
Separating these two species is a fun task but can be done, with the leaves of Mougeot’s Whitebeam differing from its Swedish counterpart in being more shallowly lobed in most cases. These lobes also point forward, something I’ve found to be incredibly helpful given how just about every other feature associated with this species seems to vary considerably!
In Swedish Whitebeam, the same lobes are spreading. There is also said to be a difference in the underside of the leaves too with those of Mougeot’s Whitebeam covered in dense white hairs and those of Swedish Whitebeam only slightly hairy. Alas, I’ve struggled to see the difference!
One thing I have also noticed from plants confirmed to be Mougeot’s Whitebeam is that the mid-rib, the central vein running down the leaf, appears yellowish on the underside. That said, I can find nothing about this online and may have made it up…
The leaves of Sorbus mougeotii showing forward-pointing and slightly shallower lobes.The leaves of what I think is Swedish Whitebeam (Sorbus intermedia) showing spreading, as opposed to forward-pointing lobes.
Finally, the fruits of Mougeot’s Whitebeam are said to be less bright red than those of Swedish Whitebeam but again, this seems to be subjective.
A journey through the diverse and beautiful trees and shrubs of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne.
While I can separate the more familiar British species, your oaks, birches and common maples, anything beyond that has traditionally gone straight over my head. Not so useful in the city where planting and landscaping, both historic and recent, mean that would be botanists are presented with a mix of species from across the globe.
From Jesmond Dene to Walker and Heaton Park, in Newcastle, we’re lucky to have quite a few historic green spaces. Stuffed within them, many and more interesting species planted first by the Victorians – the famed Lord Armstrong springs to mind – and later, by successive generations of gardeners. Elsewhere, streets are planted with intriguing species and wasteland areas have been colonised by a whole manner of garden escapes.
For the past two weekends, I’ve spent my time attempting to identify and record as many of these species as possible. In keeping with guidance from BSBI, I’ve ignored anything that appears recently planted, instead focusing on species growing ‘wild’. Or at the very least, planted specimens that now form a permanent piece of the local environment.
Below, you’ll find a selection of the interesting plants discovered. I’ll caveat this post now by saying that I am by no means an expert – corrections welcome!
Shrubs
Particularly abundant in Armstrong Park and present, yet sparser in Jesmond Dene, the ornate, gold-spangled shrub below is Spotted Laurel (Aucuba japonica). A native of Japan and China, I assume this one was once popular in Victorian landscaping. Near the entrance to Armstrong Park, I also noticed a large specimen of what I think is Chinese Barberry (Berberis julianae).
Not quite as numerous as the familiar Cherry Laurel (Prunus laurocerasus) which I forgot to photograph but still plentiful is Portugal Laurel (Prunus lusitanica). With its glossy green leaves and pendant fruits, it is certainly an attractive plant. These ones were photographed in Heaton Park but plants can be found right along the Ouseburn.
With attractive flowers and often interesting leaves, I find viburnum species a pain to identify. The two below, spotted in Jesmond Dene, are only tentatively labelled but I think they could be Farrer’s Viburnum (Viburnum farrei) and Laurestine (Viburnum tinus).
A more straightforward viburnum is the Leatherleaf Viburnum (Viburnum rhytidophyllum) with its wonderfully wrinkled, slightly glaucous leaves. A number of these grow in a tamed setting around Heaton Park but a few wilder looking specimens can be found in Jesmond Dene and at Walker Riverside. Not a viburnum but still somewhat shrubby, Himalayan Honeysuckle (Leycesteria formosa) can be encountered from time to time in Jesmond Dene, and does look to be spreading.
If viburnums are frustrating, cotoneasters are just plain hard. Ignoring some of the species encountered recently, the three below proved somewhat easier to identify – if they are correct, that is. The first, Willow-leaved Cotoneaster (Cotoneaster salicifolius) seems to pop up from time to time in the local area. A number can be seen at Walker Riverside, though this one was spotted in Heaton Park.
Larger in scale, an impressive Tree Cotoneaster (Cotoneaster frigidus) can be seen in the Coalman’s Field area of Jesmond Dene. There are probably more in the dene but alas, I haven’t noticed them.
The final cotoneaster I think might be Hollyberry Cotoneaster (Cotoneaster bullatus), another native of China planted on occasion in the UK and fairly widespread based on BSBI maps.
A couple of oddballs now and the plant with the pretty yellow berries is Firethorn (Pyracantha coccinea), a species popular as a hedgerow plant that grows wild in a few places in Heaton. This would seem to be a yellow-berried cultivar as traditionally, the fruits of this species are red. The second I am less sure about but I wonder if it is Wilson’s Honeysuckle (Lonicera nitida)? Whatever it is, it seems to spread.
It may seem odd to include a fairly common tree in a post designed to highlight unusual species but White Poplar (Populus alba) is not a species I see too frequently in the North East. Despite its status as a fairly successful non-native, it is certainly one of my favourite trees and I had to include this specimen found close to home in Iris Brickfield Park.
Pointed out by another local naturalist, Iris Brickfield Park also holds a small population of Grey Poplar (Populus × canescens), a hybrid between the aforementioned White Poplar and its close relative, the Aspen.
White Poplar, Populus albaWhite Poplar, Populus albaGrey Poplar, Populus × canescensGrey Poplar, Populus × canescens
An odd bunch now and meandering through Heaton Park, I was surprised to notice the large and hairy fruits of Turkish Hazel (Corylus colurna). It was interesting to see this one producing nuts – a search online revealing that this species fruits only once every two or three years.
Next up, English Walnut (Juglans regia) was a nice spot in Heaton Park. While this may be a familiar tree to many in the South, it is not something I see too often up here and makes for quite the attractive tree!
Also in Heaton Park, it was nice to encounter Grey Alder (Alnus incana), a native of the Northern hemisphere from North America through to Northern Europe. Here too, I also bumped into my first ever Tulip Tree (Liriodendron tulipifera). A sought after American species, this one appears to be much more abundant in the South of England.
Before moving on to a number of (much more appealing) oaks, two more oddballs now with New Zealand Broadleaf (Griselinia littoralis) and Sweet Mock-orange (Philadelphus coronarius) observed in Jesmond Dene.
New Zealand Broadleaf, Griselinia littoralisSweet Mock-orange, Philadelphus coronarius
The identification of oaks in the North East is usually a straightforward affair: English, sessile or turkey. Factor in the Victorian obsession with sourcing weird and wonderful plants, however, and things become a little more complicated. Below are two species I hadn’t even heard of until recently: Patagonian Oak (Nothofagus obliqua) and Pin Oak (Quercus palustris). A pair of nice oddities in Jesmond Dene.
The large Red Oak (Quercus rubra) growing on the Coalman’s Field was thankfully much easier and certainly makes for an impressive sight clad in its autumn colours.
Now, I haven’t the foggiest clue with whitebeams. Thankfully, however, others do and it was great to have this Mougeot’s Whitebeam (Sorbus mougeotii) pointed out in Iris Brickfield Park. Apparently, of the two species likely to be encountered up here, the more common Swedish Whitebeam (Sorbus intermedia) has spreading, as opposed to forward-pointing lobes.
I am including the familiar Common Hornbeam (Carpinus betulus) here too as I simply do not see it very often in the city. This one was photographed in Iris Brickfield Park, though others can be seen in Heaton Park and Jesmond Dene. Sweet Chestnut (Castanea sativa) to is seldom encountered and it was nice to stumble across some rather impressive trees in Jesmond Dene. A real treat at this time of year clad in thousands of distinctive spiney fruits.
The rather pretty birch shown below with its papery white bark is Himalayan Birch (Betula utilis), a species commonly used in landscaping which has been planted in the Coalman’s Field area of Jesmond Dene.
Maples are an attractive group of trees come autumn and it has been nice to catch up with a number of interesting ornamental species in Jesmond Dene. The first Paperbark Maple (Acer griseum) is a real beauty with wonderful, flaking red bark and distictive leaves. A couple can be seen in the Coalman’s Field area where the second species, Cappadocian Maple (Acer cappadicicum) also grows.
Silver Maple (Acer saccharinum) has particularly striking leaves quite different to any other maple species in the local area. A single tree grows in the same areas as the species listed above.
Japanese Maple (Acer Palmatum) is a tree familiar to many from gardens across the UK, with a number of bonny cultivars often used in planting. Or containers, in the case of my garden. Individuals of this species can be found in both Heaton Park and close to the Armstrong Bridge in Jesmond Dene.
Finally, for this (rather long) trip through Newcastle’s more unusual broadleaf trees, it would seem that I have been ignorantly walking past the below tree for a number of years. A native of Southern Europe and North Africa, Narrow-leaved Ash (Fraxinus angustifolia) boasts some superb autumn colours. The cultivar of this one would appear to be ‘Raywood’ a variety with great colour and relatively few branches.
Many thanks to Michael for drawing my attention to this, and to others mentioned previously.
I am not yet brave enough to tackle conifers – they’re just so hard to identify – but it was nice to happen across two particularly exciting species in Jesmond Dene. The first, Dawn Redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) grows around Pet’s Corner and crops up again further into the dene and has a really distinctive look about it with its yew-like flattened needles. The world’s largest tree, Wellingtonia (Sequoiadendron giganteum), needs little introduction. In this case, a closer look at the cones and (wonderfully soft) bark had to suffice.
Dawn Redwood, Metasequoia glyptostroboidesWellingtonia, Sequoiadendron giganteum
And there we have it! Looking closer at the unusual trees and shrubs of Newcastle certainly has been an eye-opening experience – there are just so many to choose from. Hailing from right across the globe, the variety here is impressive and while all may not be ‘wild’ in the traditional sense, they do form a core part of the local ecosystem.
I will look to tackle conifers in a future post and may also share some of the more abundant, native species to be found in the local area but until then, hope that this post may encourage others to look closer at urban trees. They’re certainly an interesting bunch!
Weilding the impressive leaves of a Red OakThe Coalman’s Field, Jesmond Dene
As butterflies and newts are spotted in December, earlier than nature intended, scientists warn thatspecies are losing their seasonal cues as winters warm and seasons morph.
The latest data from Nature’s Calendar, the UK’s largest study of the seasons, shows that active butterflies and newts and nesting blackbirds have already been spotted, months earlier than normal. This may spell disaster for some species, tempted out of hibernation too soon, as our increasingly erratic weather could yet bring fatal plummeting temperatures. And some birds appear to be breeding too late to capitalise on vital food sources.
Lorienne Whittle, Nature’s Calendar Citizen Science Officer at the Woodland Trust said:
“It seems that last year we almost lost winter as a season – it was much milder and our data shows wildlife is responding, potentially putting many at risk.”
“Our records are showing random events such as frogspawn arriving far earlier than expected, possibly to be wiped out when a late cold snap occurs.’’
The project compiles records of seasonal activity, sent in by thousands of volunteers across the UK, such as the first flowering snowdrop in spring to the first ripe berries of autumn. Final analysis of the 2019 data reveals that all but one, of over 50 Spring events it tracks, were early, but by varying amounts. This adds to our knowledge of how climate change is having a direct and potentially detrimental impact on the survival of UK wildlife.
This is in line with the MET Office’s analysis of the last decade. Earlier this month it revealed that the last decade was the warmest on record, and 2019 was the second warmest year since 1850 when records began.
Some species appear to be falling out of sync with each other because each responds individually and at different rates to rising temperatures.
Lorianne continues:
“It appears that some species are able to adapt to the advancing spring better than others. Oak trees respond by producing their first leaves earlier and caterpillars seem to be keeping pace. But blue tits, great tits and pied flycatchers are struggling to react in time for their chicks to take advantage of the peak amount of caterpillars, the food source on which they depend.’’
Danny Clarke, garden designer and TV presenter, is supporting the Woodland Trust in its call for more recorders. He said: “In recent years I’ve witnessed undeniable changes to our weather patterns. Gone are the times when a freezing snowy winter would be a certainty. Indeed I can count the toes on one foot, how many severe frosts are encountered at this period during recent years.
“Can’t help noticing how many deciduous trees are hanging onto their leaves for longer and on occasions not shedding them. Also, daffodils and tulips show themselves earlier than expected only to be knocked back by a cold spell. The tree and plant world doesn’t know whether to stick or twist at the moment and that’s down to climate change. I know of clients who continue to trim their lawns through the winter period. It’s bonkers mad!”
The project is now in its 20th year and is calling for more recorders to give an even clearer picture of the impact of climate change on our wildlife throughout the next decade. Its database currently contains 2.9 million records, collected since 1736, which are being used by researchers internationally. To get involved, visit naturescalendar.woodlandtrust.org.uk.
Volunteer Valerie Hurst, who has recorded for nearly twenty years, said : “The changes in the constancy of nature give real clues to climate change and are an indicator of climate change that we can all observe. I would say for me the point of real interest is the first snowdrop which seems to come ever earlier in January and the last leaf on the oak which seems to stay even longer into December.”
Some interesting records from the Woodland Trust:
Peacock butterfly. This overwinters as an adult in the UK. We had a record on Christmas eve (Kent) and another on 31/12/19 (Cornwall). In the past 10 years, we’ve only had 2 other December records. We suspect they have woken early due to mild weather in the south of the country.
Red admiral. spotted on a sunny wall on 30/12/19 in the Channel Islands. Only 4 December records in the past 10 years.
Newts. Active newts recorded on 27/12/19 in Cheshire. The recorder comments that they observe the pond every day so we’re confident it’s a good record. We’ve only had 3 other December records in the last 10 years.
Blackbird building a nest. Recorded on 02/01/20 in Wiltshire. The recorder has since commented that the nest is now fully built. In the last 10 years, we’ve only had 1 December record of blackbird nest building in December and only 4 other records that early in January.
Yesterday I joined a walk on Wimbledon Common led by Peter Fiennes, author of an absorbing and beautiful book on trees. Oak, Ash and Thorn sets out the case for Britain’s woodland and I liked the idea of discussing this subject within the woodland itself. We gathered, rather aptly, under an oak, its crown providing a natural awning for the speaker and his audience. Peter told us how the book came into being, a response to the proposed selling of the country’s forests by the government in 2010, and how it led him to spend a year exploring the woodland of Britain.
This late Spring walk followed a rambling route through the oak and chestnut woods of the Common, with Peter pausing to enlighten us on the subject of woodlands and the myths, folk tales and opinion surrounding them. Winding down a footpath, we stopped at the base of a holly tree reaching far above our heads. The trailing fronds of the holly had a sense of mysticism and even awe, and we learnt that a holly leaf in a man’s pocket would bring him luck in love. We paused at an ancient yew and admired a resplendent chestnut, before passing through a small clearing where oak and birch saplings were growing. Free from the grazing of sheep and deer this was rewilding in action, Peter told us. After more than six years walking on the Common, I discovered a pair of lime trees to be growing deep in its depths; bright green, roundish leaves seeming all the brighter against the dark trunks and earthy woodland floor. Inspired by the location, and our guide, the conversation very quickly turned to trees, and we galloped through the merits of woodlands, street trees, and London’s parks and commons with passion. This walk was part of the Urban Tree Festival, promoting awareness of trees in London. There are all sorts of reasons why we benefit from trees, but this afternoon I was particularly conscious of the calm I felt on leaving the woodland. As we returned to our meeting place, drops of rain began to fall and grey skies suggested more was to come. I ambled back along a well-trodden path to my car. The sweet scent of elderflower filled my nostrils and the rampant brambles promised a good gathering of fruit this summer.
Passing the great green mound of Box Hill on my route home, I took a spontaneous decision to stop the car and get out. I scrambled up and within minutes had a vista of trees in every direction. Green overlaid on green, with shades and shapes so different and yet so in harmony with each other that I could look at them for hours. There was no rain here, and I paused to sit on bouncy turf for a moment. This was a wonderful spot, out on the hillside with a sea of green, and a fitting end to a tree-filled day. Go now, walk amongst the trees, and leave with a lighter mind.
Last week I bought a book. A slim book, with a green and white cover. It was called ‘The Tree’ and was written by John Fowles. I didn’t know anything about it, except that I liked the title and the soft colours on the cover, thereby ignoring the oft-quoted advice on how not to judge a book, or anything else, for that matter. I shamefully haven’t read it yet, but it’s there waiting for me. And I know now it’s about more than a tree.
I mention this because trees seem to be taking an ever more present role in my life. The Japanese maple outside my window provides a riot of colour each autumn and is gradually losing its canopy of bright red leaves, leaves that have carpeted the ground for several weeks. I took a stroll up the lane near my home yesterday, looking up at the yellow leaves, made all the more dazzling by the phenomenal downpour that had just ended. Around me were London planes, a horse chestnut, and the russet red leaves of cherry. Frustration hit me as I tried to identify the tree with bright yellow leaves. (I later identified it as a small-leaved lime, a familiar enough tree but one I hadn’t recognised until now.) Distraction came in the form of a crashing flutter of feathers as a pigeon fell out of a bush. A few minutes later I watched as the pigeon did the tightrope on a thin twig in the midst of the branches; it was intent on harvesting the bright orange berries of the pyracantha. I passed the rusty red of copper beech and walked over another neon-like carpet of lime sheddings. I reached the end of the lane and decided to walk through the trees on the other side of the road. Walking on the pavement and following a path through woodland are two very different experiences. Wet leaves were underfoot and I stopped to look at the different forms, the leaves glistening in the sunshine, their moisture causing them to shine despite the shade of the branches. Starlings sat high in the treetops across the road, filling the air with sound. I turned into my road with the rhythmic clutter of the birds in my ears and my heart filled with the cheerful brightness of the blue sky and the rather cool bite of the autumnal air.
On Saturday I was invited to a meeting to outline plans for the planting of an orchard near my home. The prospect of filling a bare patch of land with trees, condemned for other uses because of toxins from the railway, was wonderful and I listened with full support. Whilst they contaminate roots, the particular toxins concerned here are apparently not passed on to the fruit of the trees, which makes an orchard an ideal outcome for this small urban patch.
At the end of November, all things arboreal will be championed in National Tree Week. There are several tree plantings organised in my local area; look up The Tree Council to see what’s taking part near you, if you’re not already involved. We need trees. Let’s celebrate them.
Historic significance. One of the oldest wooden artefacts ever discovered by modern humans was made from Yew – a spearhead found in Essex dated at approximately 450,000 years of age. This particular spearhead was unearthed in 1911 at Clacton-on-sea and represents not only the oldest wooden find from the UK but one of the most significant worldwide.
Warfare. Yew wood is extremely hard-wearing and , as a result, was used frequently during the Middle Ages to make the renowned English Longbow – a weapon that helped the English win many historic battles. Particularly those during the Hundred-Year War. The traditional construction of a longbow consists of drying the yew wood for 1 to 2 years, then slowly working the wood into shape, with the entire process taking up to four years. The demand for yew wood in England was, at one point, so great that it depleted stocks across a huge area of the UK, resulting in the subsequent importation of Yew from the continent.
Toxicity. All parts of the Yew, with the exception of its bright red fruit, are known to be toxic, and over the centuries, there have been numerous fatalities as a result of Yew poisoning. Among these, the 2014 incident involving the unfortunate death of Ben Hines. Yew was also used by the Celtic Chieftain Catuvolcus (53 BCE) as a means of suicide so to avoid becoming a roman slave. In a similar way, the historian Orosius notes that when the Astures were besieged at Mons Medullius, they preferred to die by their own swords or by the yew poison rather than surrender. By all accounts, a death by yew poisoning is a rather grizzly one.
Cancer treatment. Despite its toxic reputation, a chemical found in yew – taxol – has been found to have anti-cancer effects. These chemicals have since been synthesised and are now being used in the treatment of breast, ovarian and lung cancers.
Ties with Christianity. The Druids regarded yew as sacred and planted it close to their temples. As early Christians often built their churches on these consecrated sites, the association of yew trees with churchyards was perpetuated, suggesting that the renowned ties between the yew and Christian holy places is, in fact, a myth. With trees simply being left to their own devices and seldom disturbed due to the human significance of said sites. It is also suggested that early Christian’s continued the tradition of planting yews on holy land so to placate those whose religion had been replaced by Christianity.
A long history of death. The yew has been viewed as symbolic of death, sorrow and sadness since Egyptian times. They used its foliage as a symbol of mourning and, as such, the myths surrounding the tree were passed into both Greek and Roman cultures. With the Romans using the wood of the yew to fuel funeral pyres. It is thought that much of the funereal significance of the Yew in Britain came from the influence of the Romans, as well as the aforementioned pagans.
Key to Immortality. Yews can live for upwards of 3000 years. This is due to a number of ingenious techniques that the tree uses to ensure its longevity. Among these, the new shoots put out at the base of the trunk which form buttresses, of sorts, stabilising the main trunk and protecting it from harm. When the main trunk of the yew eventually dies, these shoots may rise to form a new tree. Yew’s are also frequently found to possess internal roots, put down by branches into the decaying heart of the tree; thus allowing for the formation of new trees even when the main body of the original yew has perished. Additionally, when yew branches reach the ground they can become embedded, taking root and leading to the growth of a separate tree connected underground to the old one. Some of the world’s oldest yews have survived in this way – continuing as fragmented trees, even when the original plant has died.
Fungi. Only one fungus is regularly found on the yew, the yellow polyporus sulphureus, otherwise known by its common name of Chicken of the Woods.
Cultivars. Yew is a popular choice with horticulturists due to its landscaping and ornamental value and well over 200 cultivars have been named. The most popular of these being the Irish yew (T. baccata ‘Fastigiata‘), a cultivar of the European yew selected from two trees found growing in Ireland. There are also several forms with yellow leaves, collectively known as golden yews. In some locations, e.g. when hemmed in by buildings or other trees, an Irish yew can reach 20 feet in height without exceeding 2 feet in diameter at its thickest point, although with age many Irish yews assume a fat cigar shape rather than being truly columnar. (source)
Record-breaker. The Fortingall Yew, found in the churchyard of the village of Fortingall in Perthshire, Scotland, is thought to be one of, if not the oldest tree in Britain – estimated at between 2000 and 3000 years of age.The tree once held the record for the largest girth of any British tree (16 meters) but has since succumbed to natural decay, splitting into several separate stems via the methods mentioned previously. As a bonus fact, it is also suggested that Pontius Pilate was born in its shade and played there as a child.
Trees: where I live in northwestern Europe, we all encounter at least a few of them each day. We walk past them or we walk underneath them without giving them too much notion. Trees are just there, dependable in their spot every day, relegated to the background by our lack of recognition or interaction. We pay far less attention to non-moving objects; they pose no threat so our brains are not wired to constantly keep an eye on them. And that’s a pity really because trees are not only great to look at; they provide something to marvel about. Just looking at trees is now understood as very healthy and good for our wellbeing.
As an experiment, in order to prompt you to actually perceive trees when you go home tonight, to really see them, I have made a list of my own favourite types of trees, a Treeptych. The list is actually longer than three tree types but I like the alliteration…
1. The ‘I-Love-To-Live’ Tree
In The Netherlands the pollard willow, or knotted willow, often is planted alongside canals. Pollarding (from the word “poll,” which originally meant “top of head”) has been used since the Middle Ages — in fact, there are still stands of continuously pollarded trees that date to that time. This is an ancient agricultural practice for producing poles and firewood, while keeping the branches above the grazing level of livestock. Every 3 years or so the branches of this tree are ‘knotted’ or lopped, giving the tree it’s distinct shape of a big trunk with proportionally small branches on it.
While it may seem rough treatment for such a willing and helpful tree ally, the periodic pollarding actually extends the life of the willows far beyond their wilder relatives, by continuously rejuvenating the branches. Diseases rarely have time to take hold of the young growth and weather elements do not affect trees of short stature. Ancient appearing pollards can actually be very old indeed. In the UK, the King of Limbs is a pollarded oak thought to be about 1,000 years old.
If that doesn’t give you cause to pause, perhaps you’ll notice a visual inconsistency as you amble, ramble or bicycle by. It is not uncommon to see a knotted willow with two kinds of leaves, and it takes a closer look to discover the reason: In the rotting core of this willow you can find elder trees starting a new life, so in summer it is as if the knotted willow carries elderberries. Even in its decay, the knotted willow is continuing to provide opportunities to shelter biodiversity. Now ask yourself: how did that elder get there in the first place? Who planted it? The answer is that at some point, a bird feasted on elderberries and then spent time in the willow doing what birds do: nesting, resting, and evidently passing on the seeds in a lovely little pre-fertilized packet.
We’ll leave the elder for another story on another day, but it may pique you to know that here in the Netherlands, as all across Europe, the Elder was held in even higher esteem: as a curative. But also as a magical ally. In Ireland for instance, folk tradition still holds that you must ask the Elder’s permission before cutting it, or you risk the wrath of the fairies.
The willow is not nearly the only species of tree that is sturdy and resilient. There are a lot of trees that after heavy damages still stubbornly keep on growing. Some species of pine trees actually need forest fires to keep growing: the Canarian pine for instance re-sprouts directly from its thick bark after a fire, unusual for a pine in not only being able to re-sprout but also withstanding the flames. Other pines have cones that only open under intense heat, dropping seeds onto newly cleared soil fertilised by fresh ashes. But the mother tree burns to a crisp.
I am in awe of the strength and endurance of those trees. Imagine: to be rotten to the core and with your branches brutally cut off as the willow in the picture… And yet, making new leaves as if nothing has happened to you. Burned and badly bruised, but going strong!
2 The ‘I-Am-A-City-Dweller’ Tree
So there you stand, cramped on a sidewalk, bearing the ultimate insults of not just dogs that pee on your trunk, but pigeons on your branches as if you were a common statue! Kids and drunks carve their initials into your skin, bikes get parked against you (well in Amsterdam that is). On the other hand, although stationary, a tree has time on its side, and can be known to turn the tables, sometimes swallowing kerbstones, abandoned bicycles and park benches.
The life of a city tree isn’t easy. Because besides all the physical abuse there is the problem of air pollution and water shortages that in general are more serious in cities. Trees in cities are also more prone to diseases, because often the trees in a street are all of the same species. If one is affected, than the rest will follow. Think of it from the pest’s point of view. Free lunch as far as you and your progeny can go!
Yet trees in cities are extremely important. They absorb odours and pollutant gases such as nitrogen oxides, ammonia, sulphur dioxide and ozone. Trees also filter solid particles out of the air by trapping them on their leaves and bark. In summer trees help cooling the city by up to 4-5 ⁰C, by shading our homes and streets. In this way trees break up urban “heat islands” and release water into the air through their leaves.
We literally depend on trees. Not only because trees give us fruits like apples, cherries or peaches and nuts, but because they give us oxygen too: An average tree exhales enough oxygen for 18 people annually. While they are doing that they are also busily scrubbing out tons of CO2 and putting it into long-term storage, both above and below ground.
It gets personal too: people appreciate the greens in a city. Studies show that in a tree-lined street motorised traffic slows down; pedestrians are more relaxed and more likely to linger and thus socialise, thus strengthening community. Studies even show that anti-social behaviour and crime rates drop on tree-lined streets. In some studies the reduced crime was evident from the very same day the trees were planted, For more benefits, click here.
3 The ‘I-Am-Small-But-Strong’ Tree
The one thing I hate about gardening is having to take out all the brave saplings of yew (pictured), oak, hawthorn or birch trees that started their lives in my garden. They didn’t choose where to start their lives, their seeds just happened to have been dropped where they sprouted. They were taken there by the wind (birch seeds) or by birds. A bird probably dropped the acorn, the hawthorn fruit was digested first and then, well…
With all their power these little seeds started a life and I brutally take it. For if I don’t, my stamp sized garden is overgrown in no time.
I remember that as a kid I grew an apple pip in a pot. It took months before it was approximately 20 cm high. On a cloudy day I took it to the garden, because I had learned that direct sunlight might burn it. I dug a small hole for it and planted the ‘tree’. After that I gave it a red ribbon to distinguish it; planted with purpose. And there it stood; minding its own business and growing for quite a while, until my father, equally keen of removing saplings as I am now, just took it out.
After you have experienced how long it takes before a seed grows into something that starts to look like a miniature tree, it’s impossible not to feel guilty for ruthlessly destroying it. Or at least it is for me.
4 The ‘I-Have-An-Odd-Shape’ Tree
As I pointed out in the introduction, we often don’t take notice of trees. Speaking from a recent experience and even though I consider myself a tree-lover: I have passed the tree in this picture by bike many, many times. And yet, it was only this spring that I first noticed ‘the hole’. This hole is obstructed from view when the tree is carrying full leaves, but still. How could I have missed it? I was more or less subconsciously aware the tree was standing there, but I guess I never really looked at it closely.
A ‘hole’ like this develops over many years of time when two branches slowly grow together. This phenomenon is called inosculation and is, in fact, natural grafting.
One wonders how many years it has taken before these two branches were grown together so firmly that it requires a very close look to see the conjoining surface.
Discoveries like these, so close to home, always make me realise the splendour of nature. And such marvels fill me with delight and make me happy. It keeps me WALDENIZING…
5 The ‘I-Was-Here-First-So-Get-Out-Of-My-Way’ Tree
Every time I drive along the A58- highway in the Netherlands I look forward to passing this remarkable monumental oak. She (I think of this tree as a she) is standing in the middle of the road, proud! Until the mid-sixties, the tree grew beside the driveway of a monumental villa. Then the garden was ripped from around it, leaving it marooned in the centre of the new highway.
To me it looks as if the tree bargained a deal and reached a poor compromise with the road workers. She could stay, but only in the middle of the road with traffic speeding by 24/7. Currently the tree has the status of a monumental tree (see link in Dutch), but her position is at stake. There are plans to broaden the highway, adding two lanes. I really do hope she keeps her feet in the ground! She was there first!
I encourage you to take a closer look at the trees around you. Let me know what your favourite type of tree is, or what your favourite species is and why.
And Please, Do Protect and Enjoy Nature!
This article was written with some dendrological help of me great friend Erik van Lennep
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