The trees and me

Leaf budding is taking its time because of this spring’s chill. But slowly and surely new leaves are appearing, and soon those long views through a naked forest will be gone.

That’s a bit sad because walking a leafless forest with the snow gone is a fine experience. You see interesting details that are hidden at other times of the year.

From the hilltop far back in this bush I peer through skeletal trees and see the lake below, dancing sparkling blue in the spring breeze.

The humps and hollows of the land are all visible, and I can see almost the full length of the ravine being navigated by a doe and her yearling.  Mom is moving very cautiously, likely because she has picked up a hint of my scent.

Walking here tells me how the woods withstood winter’s ravages. Twigs litter the ground, snapped from trees and tossed about by stiff winter winds. Also, some larger, full branches have been brought down by stronger winds and heavy snows.

You get the feeling that all this is part of a natural culling of the weak to make the overall forest stronger, healthier.

Something similar is happening in our human population during this coronavirus pandemic. The old and the infirm are succumbing in greater numbers, but unlike with trees, the human culling weakens, not strengthens, our population.

There are a lot of older tree folks back here in this forest. Rugged silver birches with shaggy bark look like old men nearing the end of their time, but still hanging on to give shelter to birds and animals.

The most commanding sight in this leafless world are the granite ridges, solid Canadian Shield faces eight to nine metres high. In winter they are obscured by ice and snow. Soon the leaves on the oaks and maples will hide them completely from anyone nearby.

Today they are awe inspiring, dominating this piece of undressed forest but giving no hint of their past. The things they must have seen over thousands of years!

At the base of the rock face I see a splotch of color. It is the pale tan of dried and dead beech leaves that a young beech refused to drop last fall.

There are others not far off and that is a good sign. Beeches are terrific trees and I hope they all grow up to have long and fruitful lives.

Science has yet to figure out why all beeches don’t drop their leaves in autumn. There is no firm evidence of why, but much speculation.

One theory is that holding on to the leaves reduces water loss and provides a small amount of nutrients to the tree during winter and early spring.

Winter leaf retention, called marcescence (mar-ses-sense), is seen mainly on young beeches, or sometimes the very lowest branches of a larger beech. It is also seen sometimes on other species, notably oak and ironwood,

The retained dead leaves are pushed off by new buds that appear at this time of year.

Some people are bird watchers but I am a tree watcher. I find it interesting to follow their transitions through the seasons, standing stoically against extreme elements that often break their limbs, snap their backs or uproot their lives.

They are the one living species on earth whose sole purpose is to benefit other species. They feed and they shelter and give of themselves so others can be well and happy. As we all know, they absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen, helping to save mankind from its own pollution.

It is important to watch trees and to learn from them. For instance, we are learning more about how trees affect human health.

A 2013 study reported in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine found that human deaths from cardiovascular and lower respiratory illnesses increased with the devastation of ash trees attacked by the invasive emerald ash borer.

The study found that the deaths of huge number of ash trees could be linked to an additional 21,000 deaths – an additional 24 deaths per 100,000 people every year. That is a 10-per-cent increase in mortality for those two diseases.

Naked or fully leaved, there is much more among the trees than meets the eye.