Treefollowing: last year's tree & a Carboniferous pond

Remember this tree? (August 2022)

Given how lovely it's been in the Laramie Mountains, I decided to check on the Balsam Poplar I followed last year instead of this year's junipers. Indeed it was a gorgeous day at Happy Jack, and warm enough, even at 8000 ft, that I chose the shady trail.

The old poplar was as I remembered—long past its prime yet still producing leaves. No matter that the canopy is less than magnificent, the trunk sprouting suckers. This is an impressive tree!

Canopy catching the sun.

Ancient trunk with vigorous suckers.

In keeping with tradition, we finished the hike with a visit to the Carboniferous Pond, named for its multitude of dragonflies.

Dragonflies are so abundant here that I accidentally nabbed one in this photo (arrow, click to view).

To get an actual dragonfly photo, I tried a new strategy—focusing the lens and waiting until one flew across my field of view. Results (or luck) seemed to improve with time. Dragonflies are quick and "spectacularly agile ... they can propel themselves upwards, downwards, backwards, forwards, side to side, and they can even hover in midair! This is due to the magnificent construction of their two sets of wings." (more here)

Dragonfly against reflections of sky, clouds, sedges—très artistique?

Got one,

... and another,

... and another,

... etc.

Finally a good one, with wings! (click to view)

This is my contribution to the monthly gathering of tree followers kindly hosted by The Squirrelbasket. Looking for a good time? Join us!

Tree-following Therapy

Quaking aspen near Pole Creek, Laramie Mountains, November.

It's November, and in the Laramie Mountains much of the color is gone. We're left with black, brown, gray, white, dark green (needles), and blue (sky). Somehow photos look better in black-and-white.

Off to see the poplar tree :)

Not pleased with short days, and especially not pleased with so much time needed indoors lately, I felt much better after visiting the old balsam poplar I've gotten to know this year. We're lucky to have the Happy Jack Trailhead just 15 minutes from town!

And of course we visited the Carboniferous Pond, for meditation and exploration. Along the margin I spotted some color—green buttercup leaves, still making carbohydrates before winter sets in.

 Ranunculus gmelinii, the lesser yellow water-buttercup; leaves are 0.5–1 inch across.

This is my monthly contribution to the gathering of tree-followers kindly hosted by The Squirrelbasket. More news here. For more about tree-following, see this post. Consider joining us—it can be very therapeutic!

For the times they are a-changin' (tree-following)

Autumn is hardly as revolutionary as the Sixties, but Dylan's words still come to mind as nights lengthen, days cool, the outdoors goes silent except for the wind, and even the wind itself is waning. In the midst of all this downturn is a brilliant exception—leaf color. Instead of greenery, which we enjoy but mostly take for granted, we are bombarded by yellows, oranges, and reds. It helps!

Three weeks ago I checked the grove where the tree I'm following grows, and found signs of what was to come.

September 19.

By last week, colors had changed, maybe not dramatically but enough to be therapeutic. I stood unwound beneath the sky, listening to leaves in a breeze I couldn't feel. To such things, this is the season.

October 6.

Among poplars.

The old balsam poplar I'm following now wears an orange crown.

Note

Bob Dylan intended this song to be a commentary on the great social changes of the times (released in 1964). It would become an anthem of sorts, widely used as a song of protest. It was one of two Dylan tunes on the Byrds' second album, the apt title track being Turn Turn Turn—To Everything There is a Season (written by Pete Seeger). The other Dylan track was Lay Down Your Weary Tune.

Tree-followers are currently gathering, as they do each month. For news of trees on both sides of the Atlantic, check this site kindly hosted by The Squirrelbasket. Do you feel the urge? To join us, learn more here.

Trees are our silent partners ... (tree-following)

"Trees are our silent partners, sensing us as we move about, providing shelter, offering us beauty, and nurturing and protecting the earth." —the Tree Library

It was another unseasonably warm day—a good time to visit the balsam poplars along Pole Creek in the Laramie Mountains. But it was 80º F even at 8200 ft elevation! So we hiked in and out via the shady trail instead of doing the usual loop. En route I heard crashing in the drainage bottom and spotted a moose ... or rather parts of a moose running off through trees and brush. Sorry, no photos.

Among the poplars it was quite pleasant—shady and cool enough to hang out with the tree I'm following.

Balsam poplar—Populus balsamifera.

This is obviously the oldest tree in the stand. Its canopy is much reduced and the large branches below are dead and leafless. The trunk is twisted, not straight like those of its companions (or offspring?).

(this photo is from last month)

Neighboring poplars are smaller, straight, and often clustered.

In my readings (US Forest Service), I learned that balsam poplar is an early seral species, adept at establishing after disturbance. For one thing, it's very good at vegetative reproduction, "capable of regenerating from root suckers, stump sprouts, stem sprouts, and buried branches". And the root suckers are large and vigorous, more vigorous than those of aspen even.

Vigorous stem and root suckers at base of the old poplar.

Balsam poplar bark is smooth and light gray to grayish brown on young trees, becoming furrowed with age. The old poplar's bark is much more furrowed than that of its neighbors.

Once established, young balsam poplars grow rapidly; this is one of the fastest growing trees in North America at temperate latitudes. But in the absence of disturbance, balsam poplars eventually are shaded out by other trees. This is a problem in protected areas where we prevent disturbances. Stands become senescent.

Dare I speculate about the history of this stand? Currently we see one old balsam poplar with branches sawn off even high up on the trunk (more about this here), surrounded by younger trees that look roughly similar in age. The stand is expanding—young poplars are invading the meadow to the west (photo below), where there is an old well box. The sunny trail immediately north of the stand is the old Happy Jack Road. So ... was this a nice flat area next to the road, with water, where people camped and collected wood for their fires? Or maybe Happy Jack himself lived here. More research needed.

(another photo from last month)

Before returning to the trailhead, we took a short side trip to "Carboniferous Pond" to cool off. There are no cycads, giant horsetails, seed ferns, and such. But dragonflies are so abundant that it feels carboniferous.

This is my September contribution to the gathering of tree-followers kindly hosted by The Squirrelbasket.  Sound intriguing? Learn more here.

August Tree Following—good news & a mystery

Balsam poplars c. 0.5 mi west of the Happy Jack Trailhead, Laramie Mountains.

Last month I didn't post a tree following report because when I got home from my travels and checked my tree, I realized ... I had chosen a dead tree! It had no leaves at all, in July. I looked around for another balsam poplar, but all I found were young saplings. What to do? Choose another kind of tree? I couldn't decide.

Several weeks later, on one of my regular summer hiking trails in the same general area, I was stopped in my tracks by ... a grove of balsam poplars! (photo above). Why had I never noticed them? Populus balsamifera is an uncommon species here, an outlier from its main range to the north. My only excuse is that the trail was a bit rocky and I had to watch my feet. However, the stand continued for some distance, to where the trail was smooth.

Leafy healthy trees.

Balsam poplar leaves are broadly lance-shaped, dark green above, noticeably paler beneath.

Suckers were coming up along the trail. How could I have missed these earlier?! Lost in thought I guess. Leaves on suckers were generally larger and greener.

Further along the trail was an excellent view of the grove, from the west. It includes several tree species, but they don't seem to mix within the stand, maybe because aspen are clonal, and balsam poplars can spread by suckering.

Note balsam poplar suckers invading the meadow.

The white feature in the meadow above may be an old well box. The inside has been taken over by willowherbs and buttercups, indicating the soil is wet. And it is surrounded by moisture-loving sedges (genus Carex). The quartz on the rim is local—a nice touch.

The challenge was to choose a tree to follow, one I would recognize on future visits. Most were roughly the same size, and grew fairly close together.

See what I mean? How to choose?

Two more poplars, with a stand of quaking aspen behind.

I soon found one obviously bigger than the rest, and I presume older. This is my tree. It is not dead. There are leaves in the canopy and on branchlets sprouting from the trunk.

Stout and gnarled.

A benefit of tree following is that we look closely at our chosen trees, noticing things that would be overlooked otherwise. That was the case here. Looking up the trunk, I spotted limbs that had been sawn off some time ago, including some high on the tree, way out of reach for sawyers on the ground.

This cut branch is twenty feet off the ground (measured with hand-span technology).

How did this happen? More than a few people will say the branches were cut when they were closer to the ground, back when the tree was younger and shorter. This stems (ha ha) from the common idea that trees grow taller from their base. But they don't. Lengthening occurs at the top and the tips of branches, at specialized apical meristems (same with roots). A branch that is twenty feet off the ground today was twenty feet off the ground when it formed (as well as when it was cut). Tree branches do not rise as a tree grows taller (see Will a Tree’s Branches Rise as It Grows?). So the mystery of the cut branches remains ... what do you think?

Now I'm back in business, happily following a tree. I highly recommend it—interesting, easy, no commitment. More information here.