Tree Lore

By Francis George Heath

Francis George Heath has gathered together a fascinating collection of facts about trees, and arranged them in alphabetical order for the easy reference of readers. From aboriginal trees to Zelcona wood, Heath has covered all you could want to know about trees. Heath believes that the considerable amount of information in this ebook will often be new even to those well-informed readers.
The Paranormal, the new ebook series from F&W Media International Ltd, resurrecting rare titles, classic publications and out-of-print texts, as well as new ebook titles on the supernatural - other-worldly books for the digital age. The series includes a range of paranormal subjects from angels, fairies and UFOs to near-death experiences, vampires, ghosts and witchcraft.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Aug 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781446358542

Book preview

1

ABORIGINAL TREES

SOME interest undoubtedly attaches to the aboriginality, or otherwise, of the trees which now cover our British Islands with beauty. At the same time, except to the antiquarian, the question is not one of very great importance, and it is extremely difficult to determine. It is probable that about the time of Caesar’s invasion there were not many appreciable breaks in the continuity of the forests—or shall we call them woodlands?—that stretched over Britain. The ‘Ancient Britons,’ presumably, were satisfied with the native arboreal flora. The Saxon invaders, if they found trees which they had been accustomed to absent from the conquered country, are most likely to have introduced them; and the same remark applies to the Romans. It seems, in fact, to be pretty well established that the Roman conquerors did introduce a number of trees that were not natives. Then again the Normans are certain to have continued the process, which has, indeed, gone on ever since.

Later on still, when horticulture and arboriculture came to be studied of set purpose, there were further and systematic introductions of new species, until now a considerable proportion of the trees of the world may be found growing somewhere within the British Islands, climatic requirements being in fact the only bar to the introduction of species needing, for instance, tropical conditions for their existence. It may perhaps be said that, speaking generally, actual economic requirements were pretty fully met by existing trees (up to about the time of Henry VIII), whether absolutely aboriginal or introduced. After that time, according to Holinshed, attention was more systematically paid than formerly to tree planting, and then may be said to have commenced, on a larger scale, the introduction of trees as objects of beauty and in order to satisfy a more exacting arboricultural taste.

It is naturally, at this distance of time, extremely difficult to state with any certainty the order of introduction of trees brought here by successive invaders from their respective countries; but it may be assumed that, as a sort of logical sequence, the first consideration would be given to such trees—whose absence had been noticed—as were absolutely essential for the construction of dwellings and for similar economic purposes—the pine, the walnut, the chestnut, the elm, the lime, the box, and the ilex. Those having the largest or the most readily and quickly germinating seeds would naturally come first into notice in this connexion—as, for example, the chestnut and the walnut, the ilex and the pine—especially those whose seeds were edible.

Such trees also as had medicinal qualities that would recommend them would also come into prominence. For ornament chiefly, and as evergreens, the holly, the box, the cypress, and the bay; the firs, too, would naturally, so to speak, force themselves into notice as ornamental adjuncts to the landscape, besides having a high and enduring reputation as timber producers. In fact, in the whole world there are probably no other trees that have proved so universally useful for the construction of buildings of all kinds as the pines and the firs, the producers of ‘deal.’

So far as we know, the aboriginality of the oak has never been disputed; and many authorities have also considered the beech a native of Britain; but Caesar in his Commentaries appears to dispute this nativity. The Scotch fir or pine—Pinus sylvestris—was also an undoubtedly native tree, and, as far as evidence has been obtainable, so were the following: the Common or Field maple (Acer campestre); the euonymus (Euonymus europaeus), more usually seen as a shrub, but capable of growing 20 feet high; the ilex, or Holm oak (Quercus ilex); the apple, or crab (Pyrus malus), and its varieties, and some other species of Pyrus, such as the pear (P. communis), the wild service tree (P. torminalis), the Mountain ash (P. aucuparia), the whitebeam (P. aria); the hawthorn (Crataegus oxyacantha); the ash (Fraxinus excelsior); the chestnut (Castanea sativa); the birch (Betula alba); the hornbeam (Carpinus betulus); the hazel (Corylus avellana), more frequently found as a shrub than as a tree; the willow (Salix alba), the common form and many varieties; the aspen, or Trembling poplar (Populus tremula), the common Black poplar (P. nigra), and the Grey poplar (P. canescens); the yew (Taxus baccata); and the juniper (Juniperus communis).

We may here incidentally state that most of our cultivated fruits, and, it is also believed, the bulk of our cultivated vegetables, were introduced by the Romans. Some of this proof has been furnished by the springing up of Italian plants where ground around the ruins of Roman villas had been freshly turned up. Loudon suggests that ‘some of the trees and shrubs of the Romans would be cultivated in the gardens of their governors and generals, most of whom, it is understood, must have been practically acquainted with husbandry. Such trees would not only be interesting to them as reminding them of their native country, but they would serve to decorate and distinguish their residences, and command the admiration of the Roman army and of the natives.’

2

ACORNS

The well-known fruit of the oak has long ceased to be so important as it was in ancient times. When Britain, for instance, sparsely inhabited, was densely covered by forest, chiefly oak, there is little doubt that acorns formed a not inappreciable portion of the food of the natives. Burnet, writing of the oak, observed: ‘It is celebrated in story and in song, in the forest and in the field; and is unrivalled in commerce and in the arts. It was held sacred alike by the Hebrews, the Greeks and the Romans, the Ancient Britons and the Gauls, and it was the fear of the superstitious for their oracle at the same time that it was the resort of the hungry for their food.’

This reference to the food obtainable from the oak alludes, no doubt, to the acorn. Loudon remarks: ‘Among the Greeks the Arcadians believed that the oak was the first created of trees, and that they were the first people; but, according to others, the oaks which produced the acorns first eaten by men grew on the banks of Achelous. Pelasgus taught the Greeks to eat acorns, as well as to build huts.’

Reference in the Bible to the woods of Bashan and to the rearing and feeding of cattle and swine point clearly to the acorn; for there was, and is, no other food obtainable from the oak. Hogs in those ancient days, as subsequently, were fed upon acorns; but then acorns were a staple of the food.

Laws were enacted to provide for proprietary rights in acorns; and by those laws it was, amongst other things, laid down that the owner of an oak might gather up his own oak’s acorns, notwithstanding that they fell on another man’s land. This regulation (very different from present British law, which gives to a neighbour any part of a tree hanging over that neighbour’s land) indicates indirectly the marvellously spreading habit of oak limbs.

It is a curious fact that, notwithstanding the great longevity of the oak, extending, it is known, beyond 1,650 years, the vitality of the acorn is less than that of almost any other seed, and very few germinate after keeping for more than a year.

3

‘A GARDEN AND A COUNTRY’

The oak, appropriately described as ‘the monarch of the forest’—an appellation not earned by mere size or height, because in these qualifications other trees excel it—has been said to be, practically, ‘a garden and a country.’ It does certainly, limited though its circumscribed area may be, provide a home, thus furnishing a garden and a country, to a large number of living creatures. Its ‘apples’ and its ‘galls’ may be likened to the houses scattered over a country, each one containing one or more ‘residents.’ Smaller houses—cottages, so to speak—all inhabited, are the currant-shaped ‘flower galls’ formed on the oak catkins (the male flowers of the tree), the ‘leaf galls’ formed on its leaves, the ‘artichoke galls’ formed on its buds, and the ‘oak spangles’ produced like red eruptions on the leafy surfaces.

Of these galls and their insect inhabitants we shall give some further account presently, as they are really perhaps the most interesting of all the oak residents. They may be described as the freeholders, for although the ‘holdings’ of particular residents—from the egg to the perfect insect—may only be annual, their descendants go on in a continual series; it is more than likely, indeed, that the majority, at least, of the perfected gall-flies continue the perennial process by laying their eggs in the same tree.

Of other insects which, in larval, chrysalis, or imago form, frequent the oak during spring, summer, and autumn the name may be said to be ‘legion.’ Then the visits of the sportive squirrel—perhaps the only animal visitor—and of innumerable birds must not be forgotten; and once at least, as we all know, an English king took refuge in the oak’s extensive and friendly shelter.

There is no doubt that quite a big book could be written upon the life-doings of oak residents and visitors. The noble tree may, in fact, so multitudinous are these, be aptly described as a ‘garden city’ that has for hundreds of years been practically carrying out what in England has been quite a modern innovation in the matter of associating bricks and mortar with green-growing and flowering things. We must be content to give some little account of what we have already described as the oak’s freeholders.

That freehold residence called an oak ‘apple’ is often quite beautiful in colour—shaded with pink and brown; and it is really a wonderful construction. It is a striking combination of art and nature. Let us take, for instance, the egg-laying gall-fly—there is more than one species, but we will instance one—Cynips quercus inanis is its scientific name. All it does is to puncture the delicate tissue of an oak twig, or it may be one of the buds on a twig—the selection of the exact spot being a wondrous manifestation of insect sagacity—and within that puncture it deposits an egg. For that purpose the tiny creature is furnished with an instrument it always carries about—its ‘ovipositor.’

But now comes in the co-operation of Nature. The puncture, upsetting the normal action of the sap, which ordinarily flows along a defined route, causes the uprising sap—the life-blood of the tree—to gyrate, as it were, around the wounded bud or twig. This gyration assumes a definite and beautifully and wisely ordained course. As the excited sap flows out at the point of irritation instead of on in its normal course, it begins to build up a little series of vegetable cells around the deposited egg until the latter is quite surrounded, and presently the pretty ‘oak apple’ forms a vegetable house that serves to shelter the insect egg, the resulting grub, and the final ‘imago.’

But, alas! it is not all and always happiness; for when the egg of the gall-fly has turned into a caterpillar and the caterpillar into a chrysalis (it is easy enough to write of these things, yet it is so hard, so impossible to understand the beautiful mystery of the processes), along comes, not unfrequently, an enemy in the shape of an ichneumon-fly that deposits its egg in the body of the poor gall-fly grub, and the resulting larva feeds on the grub even whilst the latter lives. It may be that the apparent victim does not suffer—that is to say, does not endure pain as we understand and feel it. Who can say?

But when we see the neatly and beautifully executed hole in the round form of a nut-gall, evidencing the way by which the imprisoned fly—whether gall-fly or ichneumon—has escaped, what speculations we may indulge in! Was it the rightful occupant of the curious little freehold tenement, the proper gall-fly—our friend that rejoices in the long name Cynips quercus inanis, for instance—that escaped, or the parasite ichneumon after the tragedy that had taken place in the tiny ‘oak chamber’?

4

ALDER AS ‘EBONY’

Immersion in a peat bog for a considerable time turns most timber to a very dark colour; and it is really marvellous how it—instead of rotting—hardens and preserves wood. This is probably not the case with some timbers, but it is so with elm and oak. We have seen a number of polished specimens of wood recovered from Irish bogs. Oak especially is susceptible of much darkening by bog immersion.

In the case of alder, however, the effect of this immersion is to turn the wood so black that it passes a cursory examination as ebony. It lacks, however, the gloss of ebony, the result being a dull instead of a shining black; so that it would not deceive an expert in woods. The difficulty of exact imitation is nearly surmounted by using a dye of a very deep black and polishing the surface. It has not even then quite the brilliancy of real ebony.

The great botanist Linnaeus was, we believe, the first to observe that the tongues of horses which fed in the summer on alder leaves turned black.

The natural habitat of the alder is on the banks of streams, and perpetual exposure to excessive damp prepares it naturally for use as timber in damp positions. Hence alder wood is especially valuable because of its durability and damp-proof capacity for all positions in water, such as the piles of bridges, wooden posts of all kinds required to remain for many years in the earth, as well as for many other purposes requiring wood of a durable substance.

There is especial value in the roots of large old alder-trees, because they are full of knots that, when polished, are considered to compare favourably with the beauty of what is called ‘curled maple.’ The wood is of a rich, reddish tint, and is made into beautiful and valuable tables.

5

ALMOND

How many people are aware of the close relationship between the Almond (genus Amygdalus) and the Peach (genus Persica)? It is probable, indeed, that the former was, so to speak, the progenitor of the latter—that, in short, the luscious pulp which surrounds the hard ‘stone’ or shell of the peach, and forms the edible ‘fleshy’ portion of this widely-esteemed and largely-consumed fruit, is an outcrop upon the ‘stone’ which, inside its dry hairy covering, encloses the almond of commerce. If this be so, it is a case of evolution, the hard, almost fleshless almond fruit covering developing into the much larger but exteriorly soft and juicy envelope of the peach.

How the change has occurred is one of the profound mysteries of Nature; but in part proof, at least, of the likelihood of the supposition, is the fact that trees have been discovered with fruit in a transition stage—almonds on the way to become peaches. A curious point is to be noted in this process of evolution. The stone inside the peach is commonly smaller than the stone which encloses the kernel of the almond; and the kernel of the peach stone is also commonly smaller than that of the almond. Again, whilst the almond kernel becomes sweet and therefore pleasantly edible, the peach kernel is usually bitter, all the sweetness apparently centering in the luscious flesh. Almond kernels are sometimes bitter, and bitter and sweet ones may sometimes be found growing on the same tree.

The striking peculiarity of the almond is the extraordinarily early appearance—in advance of the leaves—of its pretty purple blossoms, which are often to be seen in March and sometimes as early as February. Although frost has the curious effect of brightening almond blossoms and not, apparently, damaging them, it is probable that injury is worked upon the incipient germ of the fruits, because it very frequently happens that no fruit succeeds the blossom.

6

A NATIONAL TREE

There is one tree in the British Islands so intimately associated with our national history, and especially with our commercial and domestic life as a nation, that it deserves to take rank next to the oak, and