Tree Down

I’m drawn to any catastrophe in the woods, so I thought I might as well talk about this third common occurrence resulting from the spring storms. I mentioned that many dead standing trees were helped to the ground by heavy rains and wind. Live trees were not immune to these same effects. It’s always sad to see such a tall, straight tree turned into a horizontal ground ornament.

This tree was growing in only 18 inches of soil. It did its best to put down a strong root system, but limestone bedrock thwarted those efforts. When reaching the unyielding substrate, the roots were turned aside. Even though they became large and strong, the roots could not gain a hold. The combination of water soaked leaves, saturated ground, poor footing and strong wind took the tree to the ground.

It’s evident that this was not the first tree to fall here. The many saplings in the area began their growth when past fallen trees allowed sunlight through the forest canopy. There were no saplings or any other shrubby understory 25 years ago. Past land use activities had effectively eliminated them. Now, each falling tree allows another section of woods to begin development of a shrub and sapling layer. Despite the piling up of bodies, the woodland ecosystem continues to improve.

It’s unlikely for a tree to fall without damaging other trees in the process. Here’s a Sugar Maple sapling bowed over and pinned to the ground. It’s still alive and will most likely continue growing. In a few decades it could be one of those odd shaped trees that people wonder about. The slightly larger maple in the background didn’t have enough flex to survive the bend. It made a rather spectacular example of a shattering tree trunk. The top of the tree is dead, but basal shoots should develop rather quickly.

This tree was also left in an interesting position. The bark is still upright, while the inner wood has been pulled away.

It’s almost as though the bark had a press and seal seam that opened to release the tree and then sealed itself after the tree departed. The empty bark is still healthy and pliable. I don’t suppose it’s possible, but it would really be interesting if the bark remained alive and sprouted some branches.

Fresh Lightning Strike

Evidence of storm damage fills the woods. It would surely have been exciting to witness the lightning strike that left its mark on this Tuliptree.

At 50 feet from the tree, the shards of tree bark are easy to find. There were some pieces as far as 125 feet from the tree and they probably would have gone farther had there not been such a clutter of understory branches in the way.

I’ve read that the passage of the lightning through the tree causes the water and sap in the tree to make a rapid transition from liquid to gas. The sudden formation of gas produces pressure that explodes the bark from the tree. The result is a scar that runs from top of tree to the ground.

In the cartoons, a lightning strike always leaves things charred and smoking. Nothing like that is evident on the tree. If I had taken hold of the bark and ripped a section free, it would have made a wound much like this. This wound can heal, but it can also let in a host of insect and disease pests.

The visible damage ends at ground level. This doesn’t mean that there’s no damage below ground. Intense heat often causes cell damage in the shallow roots. This produces additional stress on the tree and depending on the nature of the damage, can leave the tree with a less stable foundation.

In the tree world there are hazards associated with rising above the others. Tuliptrees grow rapidly and produce a tall, straight, moisture laden trunk that is very attractive to lightning. Tuliptrees make up about two-thirds of the obviously lightning struck trees at Blue Jay Barrens.

Leaves are still green and healthy, despite being the apparent hosts to a hoard of leaf eating insects. If the tree was wounded beyond repair, it may take a couple of years before that fact becomes obvious. A healthy forest is not hurt by a few storm damaged trees. The storms just sprinkle the spice of diversity over the woodland landscape and increase the numbers of organisms that can live there.

Blocked Trail

The walking trails usually get at least one mowing per year. They should have been mowed in early July when the spring flowering plants were in decline. That didn’t happen this year. Rain and wind associated with the many violent spring storms effectively blocked the majority of trails. I’ll do some simple trail maintenance during the summer, but the removal of downed trees is winter work. The primary reason for this is to reduce damage to actively growing plants. A secondary reason is the fact that it’s just too hot to be doing that kind of work during the summer.

The majority of fallen trees were already dead. Frequent rains saturated the dead wood and made the tree tops heavier, while at the same time the saturated roots became soft and weak. The heavy winds did the rest. A few dead trees have always come down every year, but this year the numbers were in the dozens.

Many of the trees crossed and tangled as they came down. Some are precariously balanced against trees still standing. It takes some studying to determine which tree should be the first cut. I’ve seen trees in situations like this snap and forcibly throw wood shards for a considerable distance. I’m not anxious to become a recipient of such a projectile.

In other places, fallen trees have ridden down saplings and shrubs to form dense tangles. This is another dangerous situation where the pinned live branches can rebound with considerable force when released. Clearing these areas in the winter not only increases visibility because of the absence of leaves, but allows you to comfortably wear a thicker layer of clothing for protection against anything that may whip loose and smack you.

I always seem to have something watching me as I work. At least these observers don’t bother me with silly questions or suggestions on what I should really be doing.

Jewel Case

I found this neat little thing hanging from a tree branch in the woods. At first I thought it was the leftovers of a spider’s meal, but on closer examination it appeared to be some type of case or cocoon.

It’s certainly not very large. I noticed it rocking in the breeze at the end of a stout length of silk. The tether wasn’t at all sticky and slid cleanly across my hand as I steadied the object for a few photos.

I’m not sure what this thing is. If there had been more than just the one, I would have opened it to have a look inside. Of course, it’s possible that there were hundreds hanging from the trees and I only saw the one. It could be an egg case or a cocoon or poop or a Fairy Jewel or just an oddly shaped collection of debris. I’m betting there’s something alive in there.

The consistency of the thread and the method of attachment to the object suggest that this is its proper arrangement. I know that placing eggs at the end of a stalk or line is a survival strategy used by several insect species. I also vaguely remember many years ago reading about something similar to this. Even if I don’t find out what it is, I enjoyed getting to see the pretty little gem.

Another Slug

This has definitely been a summer for finding slug caterpillars. I found this Spiny Oak Slug munching away on my apple tree.

This is a spiny fellow that will sting you if you happen to touch it. I definitely did not use my finger tip to position this guy for a photo shoot.

Spiny Oak Slugs are quite variable in their appearance and come in a variety of colors. One of the defining characters is supposed to be some clumps of black spines at the rear of the caterpillar. I’m not really seeing them here, but the literature says their appearance is also variable and occurs only in the last two instars. I’m not very good at determining caterpillar instars, so I’m not sure whether or not it’s time to be seeing black spines.

I had nudged the caterpillar toward the center of the leaf for a better photographic angle, but it was determined to return to the leaf margin to continue with its meal. In its rush to get back to feeding, it revealed its normally concealed head.

The green and gray color combination displayed by this individual matches well with the blotchy pattern of the leaves. Between the camouflage and the sting, these caterpillars should be well protected.

This shot is for those who haven’t yet noticed the face pattern on the caterpillar’s back. I love a good face shot.

Ants Still up a Tree

A Shingle Oak is not supposed to turn brown in the middle of August. I’ve been watching this tree grow for 25 years and even during the worst of our droughts it has never turned brown this early in the year. A sight like this tells me that something is wrong.

There are very few branches low enough to be easily examined, but these showed the same pattern of dead leaf clusters as the rest of the tree. This is the tree that attracted so many ants in early July. The ants have not changed their behavior and are still pouring up and down the tree trunk. They’ve got to be responding to something and I’ve got to believe that it has something to do with the mysterious dead spots.

I could find no leaves in the intermediate stages between brightly healthy and dead. Perhaps the catastrophic event has passed and the tree is no longer at risk. That’s possible, but the presence of the ants kept me searching.

Then I found some mottled brown nodules growing on a stem. Galls had developed in response to insect eggs laid on the oak stem. Inside each gall would be a developing larva, safely contained within the growth produced by the oak. But galls on an oak are a common occurrence. I think it would be hard to find an oak tree that didn’t have at least a few galls. I continued my search.

An ant tending a gall. This ant would not be so protective if it was not getting something of value from the gall. Certain Cynipid Wasp larvae produce galls that ooze a sweet liquid. The ants stay on duty collecting the sweet substance and in so doing, protect the gall from predators. It’s hard to believe that a few galls could cause a massive leaf die-off on the tree.

Well, there turned out to be more than a few galls. Gall villages were scattered along every branch. This amount of gall activity could certainly hurt the tree. It would also explain the thousands of ants traveling up and down the tree trunk. It’s also possible that the ants are inadvertently responsible for the clusters of dead leaves scattered across the tree. Cynipid Wasp galls don’t normally reach this density because they are destroyed by a parasitic wasp species that lays its eggs inside the gall. The parasite consumes the Cynipid larvae which reduces the stress on the tree. The ants are such good protectors that the parasitic wasp can’t get close to the gall, so the Cynipid numbers grow out of control.

Many dead stems can be found on the ground around the tree. These dead sections don’t show any signs of galls. Maybe galls located further down the stem effectively girdled the branch and caused the tip to die. I’ll just have to keep watching and see what develops. I’m sure the tree will be able to recover next year, but I don’t know if it can survive too many consecutive seasons of this kind of stress.

Flora Minatures

Despite the vagaries of weather, Blue Jay Barrens cannot go through a full year without the soil in most areas becoming super dry. This flat section of ridge top holds no moisture and is one of the driest open spots around. Most of the plants here are adapted to the harsh conditions imposed by this situation. That doesn’t mean they don’t show any effects of the arid conditions.

I think of this ridge top as my collection of miniatures. Species that grow over six feet tall in the nearby prairies can barely make it to one foot here. A good example is this Whorled Rosinweed that is so stunted that it doesn’t display all of the common identifying characteristics. Identifying miniatures is often tricky when they don’t resemble their larger siblings.

A regular sized Spiked Lobelia would have at least ten times this number of flowers. There have been several times in the past that I was convinced that I’d discovered a new species only to have it flower and prove to be one of the miniatures.

Eastern Red Cedars form themselves into natural Bonsai trees without the help of any pruning. This one made progress because of the wet spring, but it will never be able to maintain this much green growth.

This Orange Coneflower has managed a height of eight inches and three tiny blooms. In moist soil, the Orange Coneflower can easily reach a height of five feet and produce over a hundred flower heads. Since the small size is due to environmental conditions and not genetics, the seeds produced by this plant would have the potential to produce a super sized plant if grown under the right conditions.

Diminutive Bluehearts hold their own in the rocky soil. This species reaches a height of almost three feet within 20 yards of these ten inch plants. This disparity in size shouldn’t surprise gardeners who know that improved soils conditions equal larger plants.

A stunted Flowering Spurge can barely produce a noticeable flower cluster. Nearby plants hold their large flower clusters three feet in the air and are visible from far across the field. I visit the land of miniatures each year and marvel at the tenacity of these tiny plants. Their ability to survive under such adversity assures me that the larger members of their species are far from stressed by the normal dryness of the Blue Jay Barrens landscape.

Tiny plants can still provide cover for interesting insects. This is a Bee Fly known as Anthrax georgicus. The larvae of this fly feed on Tiger Beetle larvae. I’m still searching for new species of Tiger Beetles for the Blue Jay Barrens list, so I hope these flies aren’t reducing the population of some species I’ve not yet seen.