TREE FOLLOWING - JANUARY - FFREDA IS A MONTEREY PINE

Now I know this is a Monterey Pine I'll be able to solve
The Mystery of the Talking Trees.

For nearly a year I've been following a tree without knowing its name. At first I called it Ffreda for want of a proper ID. But it didn't really fit. She's may be tatty and worn but she's more distinguished than that. She turns out to be called 'Monterey'. 

I know because I asked the men who were cutting down yet another of her kin-trees on the other side of the road. I popped up beside their van while they were having a tea-break. Kindly they wound down the window and answered a few questions.

(Interrupting workers on a tea-break is not done lightly. I doubt they'll read this blog but, if ever they do - thank you!)

What are they? Pinus radiata - Monterey Pines.

I would never have guessed. When I look for examples on line I find trees with a completely different shape and more branches. There are photos of some which look a bit like ours. They tend to be on the South Coast of England where they get wind battered and re-styled. Despite that, they live.

Why is this particular group in so much trouble they are dying?

Several reasons, said the men. The wind. Salt in the air. Last year the winds were tremendous. The weather is calmer now but those old gales are still taking their toll. And there's fungus in their roots, they said. They told me its name. I forgot it instantly. Sorry. But it was their tea-break. I couldn't go back.

Take Global Warming seriously, they said.

Fungus on the bark at the foot of the tree we're following.
(Not the root fungus that's killing some of the trees.)

Then . . . and this is where I find my imagination gripped . . . there's the road.

Cut out from the picture above.

These Monterey Pines are either side of a road at the entrance to a housing estate completed just over fourteen years ago. Before that it was a narrow corridor of rough, wet ground between older houses. In order to insert new ones into this gap the ground first had to be cleared and drained. So now it's a long, thin, one-road estate. When the houses and flats were built tree roots were disturbed and broken. And the ground level was raised. This too, said the men, was a problem.

All together; wind, salt, broken roots, fungus and ground level change. It's tough being a tree; you can't simply get up and move to somewhere else when your life is threatened. You have to stick it out or . . . not.

"You can see it in their rings," they said.

So the next day, when the van had gone and the men had carted the saws and trunks and branches and logs away . . . I went back to look at the rings.

This is the trunk of the latest tree to be felled.

You can count the rings of a tree to tell its age. Each year tells a tale of the year. If all is well with the tree, the wings are wide. If it's suffering from drought or stressed in other ways, the rings are narrow.

With this tree it's clear. The rings suddenly go from wide to pinched. The ground is being disrupted. The tree tells when the building works began and from which they have never fully recovered.

"All the trees we fell here are the same," said the men.

So, what about the tree we're following. For all that it's tatty. For all that some of its branches have gone - how come it's still there? I asked. But the men didn't know. But they are only dealing with failing trees. They won't have time to potter around examining irrelevancies. So I'll offer a couple of hypotheses.

In terms of metres and feet, the tree I'm following is hardly any distance from those felled. Perhaps the road between them creates a bit a of a barrier against the deadly root fungus? I'll put that in as a 'maybe'.

But what about raising the level of the ground. Where does that fit in?

On one side of 'our' tree, the trunk sticks straight up out of the earth.
No flare.

As a groove was made for the road; earth and stones were chucked aside to make space for hard-core and tarmac. More would have been displaced when the sewage pipes and telephone lines were put underground. Maybe some was taken away? I don't know. But some was left - and the ground around the trees made higher.

Trees need 'toes'. Not that they are really 'toes' - it's just that they look like toes to me. Officially, these woody roots splaying from the base of the trunk are called 'tree flares'. They look as if they should be under the ground - but they aren't. They really aren't. For the health of the tree they have to be on the surface. They are meant to travel a bit of a distance from the trunk then dip into the earth.

Maybe Monterey Pines are an exception. I don't quite know how to find out. But until someone says they are unlike other trees and don't need flares after all, I'll assume they do.

I scouted around. The flares are missing. The trunks of most of these trees rise straight from the ground like round, unsupported pillars.

On the opposite side of 'our' tree, there are 'toes'.
Are these toes helping the tree live longer?

But the tree we are following has the remains of a flare. Maybe it was saved from having too much earth piled around it because it was already on a bit of a rise? Its flare, admittedly, is unimpressive. And it doesn't go all the way round. But the rudiments of it are there,

I don't want to be over optimistic. Our bashed and battered tree is unlikely to live for years and years longer than the others in the group - but for all the time I've been following it I've been mystified. I chose it because it looked in worse condition than the rest. I thought I was making a record of it before all its limbs blew off and the council took its remains away. But that's not how it's worked out - the trees I though most healthy are dying first.

When, as I suspect it must be, this tree will eventually be felled . . . I'll have to remember to examine its rings.


More about the way trees should be planted and their tree flares.
More about the root systems of trees.
Both articles are on the Cape Cod Forest Keepers Tree Care Site.

(P.S. The tree fellers said the oozings of resin which I thought indicate a problem with our tree - don't. They don't matter. It's just what this kind of tree does.)

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SLICING THE TREE - TREE FOLLOWING FOR AUGUST

Across the road from the tree I'm following there's a diminishing number of similar ones. One by one they are being felled. It's been going on for a while and I thought I knew which would be the next to go. Its needles are brown on the tree.

I was wrong. Another has gone. Given that all the the trees in the group are a bit tatty it's clear they will all be cut down in the end. But the latest to vanish seemed the healthiest of the lot. I've photographed it more than the others. I'd thought it would outlast the one I'm following.

You know the resin that weeps in golden droplets from the trunk and collects in lumps and hardens and solidifies white and brown - like an unsightly lava flow that's been brought to a cold stop? I've found out what it does to the inside of the tree.

Here is the edge of the stump of the recently chopped tree - a tree of the same kind as the one we're following. On the right is the remains of an ivy which was almost part of the tree. It's about three inches across. On the left is the red wood of the felled tree. In between . . . grey and white. This seems to be an internal collection of resin. It's hard. If you came across it away from the tree you might, at first, think the white is some kind of quartz. Maybe this internal bleeding and setting is what's killing the trees? The work of the bark is being interrupted. Does anyone know?

Back to the individual we are following. Needles are collecting in the fork of the trunk.

A cone has fallen to ground and broken open.

The grass has been cut. The plants which grew in it have gone. We've had little rain. There was an outburst for a couple of hours a few days ago but it's done little or nothing to dampen the ground under the tree.

Its exposed root stays bare.

What a brown post!

One little bramble is all that grows.

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THE TALKING TREES - JULY UPDATE for TREE FOLLOWING 2014

I can adjust this photo to make the colours more true to life - less blue.
I tried it. I didn't like it.
I like this faded original better.

For all that I've encouraged you to follow a tree for a year when I set out to visit mine I almost always go with a heavy heart and the expectation of boredom. Why did I choose a pine? Pines don't 'do' anything The answer of course, is the same as the complaint - they don't 'do' anything. I wanted a challenge. But if I had to chose a challenge, why did that have to include the lowest branches being masses of feet above my head? I simply can't see what's up there.

I revisit the bark. I revisit the plants at its foot. I might find and insect in the road. I've done it all (yawn, yawn) - would there be anything new? How could there be.

What there was - was one of the most startling experiences I've had with any tree. And if I hadn't stood there wondering what to photograph, I would never have known . . . the very fact I had to stand there was what brought me something wonderful and new.

I'll save it for the end.

First though - I'm learning how frequently the grass is mown. The Chickweed (Stellaria media) which was there in March and April  has gone and a bramble has taken its place.

On the trunk - there's a yellow snail resting in a crack in the bark..

And here's the resin I can't stop being intrigued by. The sun is making a star on a globule.

And . . . and . . . when I get home and crop the picture I notice there's an odd white thing in the frame. I'ts probably about 4mm long. Anyone know what it is?

At the time though, I was so entranced by the globule I'd forgotten to take care of my feet - and stumbled over this cone.

Other cones I've found have been brown and closed. This one is green on the outside - and inside, if you look, the colour is a beautiful chestnut brown. A careful designer could have made this cone. I'd cover a sofa in its colours.

On it's back, where the cone was attached to the tree, you can see how the scales (scales? is this a dragon?) are arranged in whirls reminiscent of the snail on the other side of the tree.

But . . . but . . . something is happening. There's a strange and persistent clicking. I'd assumed a child was tapping something while walking down the road. I turn. There's no-one there. Maybe someone's playing with a clicker in a nearby garden. If so, it must be a specially interesting clicker because they won't stop. All the time they click and click and click. Then, all of a sudden, they click loudly in a burst. Clickclickclickclick . . . But it isn't a child. It isn't a clicker. It's the tree. I cross the road to where there are others like it. They are doing it too.

The only way I can record sound is to take a video. So here is our tree - not moving but 'talking'.

I imagine the cones are opening their scales to eject their seeds. You might want to turn up the sound to hear.

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Click here for Tree Following posts written by other bloggers in July 2014.

All photos in this post - and the video - were taken on July 10th 2014.

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OF RESIN AND CONES

I've been waiting for a pine cone to fall from the tree I'm following and at last one has. The first, no doubt, of many. Compared with others I've seen in previous years, it's not large. How large? I don't know. I didn't have a ruler - oh . . . except I had my foot.

Here you see them; fallen cone, fallen needles and a foot to measure them by. (I always knew my foot would come in handy one day!)

There are many yet to fall. If my blog goes dead. If suddenly there are posts no more - it's probably because I've been struck on the head by a cone. Be warned!

Meanwhile, the trunk still captivates me; the trunk, its bark and its oozings.

Here comes a drip.

Some drips form planes.

Some . . . I don't know how to describe this shape.

Some grow . . . toadstools?

I'm still not clear whether this is a real fungus or a resin shape. I'll keep looking.

At the foot of the tree - a bramble has sprung up. It won't last here long. The grass is often mown.

And thinking of mown . . . the wind was roaring away up there in its high branches. (They are all high!) I recorded the sound - and discovered something . . . 

For a while, the wind waved the branches and the noise was pleasant and loud but at ground level all was still. Then the noise from the branches died away and the camera picked up on the breeze which had sprung up at head level. Two winds. Hadn't expected that.

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THE LEAKING TREE

I've just emptied about four inches of rain water from a plastic ice-cream carton.. "Oh, look at this!" I said - and tipped it out without thinking. It's back in place now. I'll note the moment and measure the water properly this time round. We're glad of rain. It's steady and warm and just the kind of thing we sing about at harvest festivals - but it's no good when you need another picture for a post.

So . . . rather than get left completely behind with everything (I have several semi-posts semi-ready) we'll have a partial post about a tree that's leaking its sap - or, should I say, its resin?

The picture I needed (still need) is of this tree from a distance so you can see its shape and help identify it with me. There are a lot in this area. They aren't wild. They are in parks and gardens and public places and I don't know what they are.

On a fine day, it's lovely to look up through their branches. On a windy one - it's a good idea to steer clear. Some of the cones fall small but many wait till they are large and heavy.

The bark is impressive but the trees are growing old. Branches are falling off and sap is oozing from some of their trunks. 

It's forming globlets in the ivy

and making a place for mould.

I don't know what the cause is (brilliantly informative post this!) but nails in the trunk don't seem to have given trouble. A cluster like this touches my sense of history. Why was it done? Don't say 'vandalism'. How did it come about that someone arrived with a hammer and nails? What were they thinking? Did they fetch them on purpose? Or, if not, what had they planned to do when they set out? Don't you think there's human interest here? I don't suppose it happened many years ago but would your reaction be different if we found something left like this from Tudor times? Or the eighteenth century? We're fascinated by graffiti from Norman days and marvel at marks left by ancient Romans.

There's a story behind this - and it's intriguing.

And as for beauty . . . !

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Down by the Sea

Following a Tree, Visit 3

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Leavesnbloom

Corylus avellana contorta 'Red Majestic' 

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On the Edge Gardening

Naked Beech

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