As I write this, Chittenden County is settling into winter, last night’s rain notwithstanding. As December progresses you might start to hear the buzzing of chainsaws and the thrum of skidders in the woods, logs piling up by the side of your road.
I grew up loving small trees that I could climb. Apples trees and a large, old magnolia tree that grew on my parents’ property were my favorites. On this land there were some unusual trees,
Forests are communities, a rich mixture of organisms engaged in relationships and interactions with each other, built around the living architecture of trees.
Deputy Tree Warden Alexa Lewis checks an emerald ash borer trap on Prindle Road in East Charlotte last Thursday.
As I write this, the leaves of our trees have unfurled, our forests blooming in an unthinkable diversity and abundance. Even in the midst of a dry early summer, everything seems full to the brim with water and with life.
In our altered modern landscape, the idea of an old growth forest is captivating; we picture primal, untouched wilderness, massive trees and forests full of life. But what is “old growth,” and what role should it play on our modern landscape?
Charlotte has a new silver maple champion!
As you hit the trails, take a close look at Vermont’s forests. Some trees are threatened by invasive forest insects, and in some places, you might be the only one to spot them!
As you hit the trails, take a close look at Vermont’s forests. Some trees are threatened by invasive forest insects, and in some places, you might be the only one to spot them!
The Charlotte Tree Tribe is pleased to announce a new champion tree, one not previously on the Hamilton Roster
As someone who loves forests, one of the hardest and strangest parts of my job is to figure out how to cut trees in a way that supports the healthy growth and development of these complex ecosystems. While some forest management is primarily focused on economic value – growing valuable timber – modern forest management often targets a wider range of objectives.
Yellow birch (Betula alleghaniensis) is a striking tree: golden, metallic bark shines among the grays and browns of other trees. The cousin of our most-identifiable tree, the white or “paper” birch (Betula papyrifera), yellow birch has many of the same attributes: bark with little horizontal dashes, peeling horizontally.
If you’ve ever walked in Vermont’s woods, chances are that you’ve stumbled upon a “wolf tree.” These giants of the forest are hard to miss; massive, gnarled trees with huge lateral branches extending from their trunks. They are called “wolf” trees because they were once standing in the middle of an open field, like a “lone wolf.” Their unusual form is due to their lonely nature — with no adjacent trees to compete with, they stretched their branches out to reach light in every direction.
We are all saddened that the emerald ash borer (EAB) will ultimately lead to the demise of 99.7 percent of our native ash trees. The Town of Charlotte has allocated funds to begin taking ash trees down along our roadways. The first area targeted was on Lake Road, between Ferry Road and Thompson’s Point Road. The next will be along Greenbush Road from Barber Hill to Ten Stones and along Ferry Road west of the Greenbush Road intersection.
While many forest landowners and managers are superheroes in their own right, working tirelessly to protect and support healthy forests, a few forest stewards have a special super-power, one that, thankfully, anyone can develop. I call it the “landscape view,” the awareness of how a property fits into our broader landscape.
If you’ve been walking through the woods this late summer, you’ve probably noticed acorns in the treetops, hanging from low branches, littering the ground. Acorns, the fruit of oak trees, are the most visible of our tree seeds, but they’re just one example of “mast.”
As the effects of climate change on our world become more and more apparent, it is increasingly important to manage our forests to not just withstand these impacts, but to help mitigate them.
As many Vermonters know, prior to European settlement Vermont was almost completely forested. In the 1800s about 80 percent of the state was clearcut, largely to create sheep pasture. Many of these pre-settlement forests were what we would now call “old growth”: forests that had developed without extensive disturbance for centuries.
By now, most people know I’m a bit of an environmentalist. I love the outdoors—hiking in the Adirondacks, snowboarding and snowshoeing in Vermont’s mountains, ice skating on frozen lakes and ponds in the North Country.
Believe it or not, every big tree was once a little tree and, before that, a seed. Yes, those massive trunks and branches that took decades or centuries to grow were once acorns lying on the ground or aspen seeds blowing in the wind. While we value our big trees, we often forget the small trees and seeds we see today are what will become the massive maples and oaks that our great-grandchildren will admire.
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