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This Old Tree with Doug Still
Sa Melabrina and Sardinia's Monumental Trees - Transcript Season 3, Episode 6 May 5, 2026 Doug Still 00:00 You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them, and a sponsored project of New England ISA. A crowd of 100 people gathered deep in a mountain forest in central Sardinia, an island off the west coast of Italy, near the small town of Illorai. We were about to listen to a poem. About a tree. (murmur of a crowd outdoors) Gianluca Grande 00:24 (loudly) Signori! Signori! Per Favore! Doug Still 00:30 That was the young mayor of Illoria, Gianluca Grande, a born leader and organizer. And the tree was standing right next to us, a 900 year old Downy Oak they call Sa Melabrina, the oldest and largest of its kind in all of Europe. The huge, gnarly, wide-spreading tree was covered in moss and ferns, reaching out to surrounding trees like a matriarch among her children. Fulgenzio Piras was invited to read a poem written by Ignazio Camarda, an esteemed professor of botany from the nearby University of Sassari. He was a scholar of Sardinian flora and a champion of the island's heritage trees. Sadly, he passed away during the previous winter. His poem was about Sa Melabrina, entitled “Su chercu pius bellu,” or “The Most Beautiful Oak.” It was written in Sardu, the ancient language of Sardinia. Fulgenzio Piras 01:31 (reading poem) Doug Still 01:39 What brought us to this place? The mayor had organized a conference about monumental trees, an official designation in Italy for trees of crucial botanical or cultural importance. It drew people from all over Sardinia, mainland Italy, and beyond. Gianluca had help from Professor Gianluigi Bacchetta, Professor of Botany and Conservation Biology at the island's other major university, the University of Cagliari. I got to interview them both about their mission to recognize and promote Sardinia's monumental trees as a unified network worth visiting. There are hundreds of them. Fulgenzio Piras 02:17 (more reading of “Su chercu pius bellu”) Doug Still 02:23 I also found out even more is at stake than preserving these wonderful old trees. Illorai and other rural towns are shrinking. Depopulation is a slowly creeping challenge threatening the authentic character of the Sardinian way of life from within and without. We've heard many stories on this show where a local community comes together to save a town's historic tree. But Sardinia's leaders ask a new type of question: can monumental trees save its small towns? This is the story of Sa Melabrina and the monumental trees of Sardinia. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. [This Old Tree theme song - Dee Lee] 03:07 [Choral Music - Illorai Choral Ensemble] Doug Still 03:29 “We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.” - T.S. Eliot (from "The Little Gidding") Something is brewing in Sardinia, and it involves ancient trees. Not just one, all of them. Monumental trees as they are designated. They’ve been there all along, in the countryside watching generations, and even civilizations, come and go. Some trees have stood for millenia. But a new conversation is starting about them, and between them in a way. That leads me to introduce Gianluca Grande, the person now leading the conversation. He spearheaded and hosted the conference on Monumental Trees in Illorai last November. He was incredibly kind to invite me to speak at the conference. As you might remember, I had JUST been in Sardinia several months before to report on the 4,000 yr-old olive tree called S’Ozzastru. But Gianluca was persistent and persuasive about a return visit. “You must see our great tree Sa Melabrina,” he said in an email, “it is truly special with a great story.” He sent me the background information and answered my questions as my interest grew. Before we even met, we became great friends over our love of trees. We met up recently on Zoom to talk more about what it was all about. Doug Still Hello Gianluca, it’s so nice to see you again. Gianluca Grande 05:05 Hi, Doug, it's my pleasure. Doug Still 05:07 Thanks so much for inviting me to the conference on monumental trees and the warm hospitality you showed me. It's hard to imagine feeling more welcome by you and your team. Gianluca Grande 05:19 Well, thank you for coming all the way from the States to Sardinia. Thanks a lot. It was a great honor to have you with us in the conference. And yeah, the hospitality in Sardinia is kind of like a tradition. Whoever comes that is a foreigner, we try to make him feel like home. And I hope that you felt that way too. Doug Still 05:43 Yeah, I loved it. I loved it. How would you describe Illoria, and where is it situated? Gianluca Grande 05:50 Illorai is a small town in the north center of Sardinia. It is inside an historical region that is called Goceano. It sits about 500 to 600 meters from sea level on the upper course of the Tirso River, and is surrounded by highlands and forests and archeological sites. Doug Still 06:17 What's the main mountain nearby? Gianluca Grande 06:20 The main mountain is Monte Pisano, which is in the municipality of Bono, a nearby town, one of the tallest peaks in Sardinia. Doug Still 06:34 Illorai is charming and special. It sits halfway up a mountain, with panoramic views over the agricultural plains below. It is sort of an entryway village into the mountains of Goceano from the neighboring region. Rich in ancient archeological sites, it contains a Roman bridge known as Ponte Ezzu; recently discovered neolithic chamber tombs called the Molias Domus de Janas which means “fairy houses;” and of course several nuraghi, which are bronze age towers built of stone by the mysterious Nuragic Civilization 3500 years ago. The residents who live in Illorai are from families that date back many generations. (to Gianluca) How far back does your family go in Illoria? Gianluca Grande 07:22 Way back, I don't really know, probably centuries. But yeah, my great-great grandfather was from Illorai. Actually, from my mother’s side, my great grandpa was from the south of Sardinia. He was working on the railway construction, and so we moved from the south of Sardinia - was a town near Cagliari, to lllorai. Doug Still 07:57 I see. So it was the railroads that brought your mother's family to your area now. Gianluca Grande 08:03 Yeah, yeah, yeah. Doug Still 08:05 Now you grew up in a Illorai, correct? Gianluca Grande 08:08 Yeah. I was born in Canada, in Ontario, Sarnia. But I grew up in Illorai ‘till I was 16 years old. Then I moved to Sassari to study. Doug Still 08:19 Like most young people, he left home for higher education and to find more opportunities. He studied abroad, eventually earning a degree in landscape architecture. Gianluca Grande 08:29 Since then, I moved around. I’ve lived in Turin, London, UK, and then I spent the last 10 years in Canada and Vancouver, BC. Doug Still 08:42 Unlike most of his childhood friends, though, Gianluca returned to his hometown in his mid 30s to start his own family. For him, the reconnection with his roots was life affirming - and surprising. A fresh look showed how wonderful the landscape is, the pace, and the people. And there was motivation to give back. (to Gianluca) So you spent time in London and also in North America and Canada, and the US a little bit. Why did you decide to run for Mayor of Illorai? Gianluca Grande 09:12 That's a good question. I don't know. I moved back to Illorai from Vancouver, and was just before Covid. So 2019, I'm keen to help, and keen to try to make things better if I can. And last June - June, 2024 - I became Mayor of Illorai. And this was because many people were asking me, “Why you don't run for mayor for us? You might be able to do good work, and, you know, get this town better.” I try to improve it and try to fix some of the issues. Although it is really hard to be a mayor, especially when you are running a small town. Doug Still 10:11 I imagine. What are some of your biggest challenges? Gianluca Grande 10:14 Well, the biggest challenge we have is the population, which is not only an issue of my town, but an issue of all of Sardinia. This happened because in 1956, Illorai was about 2000 people were here. But the production moved from the town to outside the town. Because in the just after the war, and even before and during the war, most of the products were made here. We are like tailors; we are carpenters; we are like, I don't know, we made our own bread; agriculture was very important. But after the war, this production got moved to the factories. Little by little, we started losing inhabitants, because all of the young people were looking for a job, were looking for a steady job, for a steady income. It started from 2000 residents, slowly, slowly, slowly, we became 730 residents. Everybody tries to find a better job. We are lacking services, like doctors. Here, we have restricted days for the family doctor, infrastructures. The aging population too. We have a good chunk of our population over their 60s. The younger population, basically, when they start studying at the university, then probably 2 out of 10 come back here in town. Doug Still 12:20 Well, you're one of the 2 in 10 that came back. Gianluca Grande 12:23 Yeah, yeah, yeah. Doug Still 12:25 Some data I found on a website looked at a census done in 1607 - so the beginning of the 17th century - that said that there were 410 fuochi. What does fuochi mean? Gianluca Grande 12:40 OK, it means fires, which means like households, like families. Back in those days, the families were about eight to 10 people. Doug Still 12:55 So more than 2000 people, 3000 or more. Gianluca Grande 12:59 Yeah. Doug Still 13:00 It's interesting that fuochi means fire [yes], but also a family union… Gianluca Grande 13:07 Yeah, yeah, hearths, like the family. Doug Still 13:10 Like a hearth.That makes sense. I like that. It's not just the human population that has declined over the centuries, but the tree population too. The mountains had always been forested, interspersed with beautiful patchworks of meadow. The landscape supported the lives of agrarian people for 1000s of years. But in the 19th century, the tentacles of the industrial revolution reached their way into central Sardinia as mainland Italy searched for resources like timber and coal. Land reforms brought fencing and the privatization of commonly held lands. Deforestation began. Gianluca Grande 13:48 It all started in the 1800s when the Savoy, the royal family of Sardinia, Piedmont and Sardinia, started invading in Sardinia and looking for opportunities. And they start cutting, basically, a good chunk of the forest in Sardinia to be used for the army to produce coal. And also with the construction of the railway in Sardinia, they start, basically, clearing the entire part of the forest of Sardinia. This was a part of the story that went from the mid 1800s up until early 1900. But then there was also the need of the population of Illorai to basically have firewood since back in the days, before the Second World War. During and just right after, there were not cars or trucks to carry firewood to the town. So the people of Illorai are cutting near the town, clearing the forest to cultivate wheat or vegetable gardens. The areas near our town, so basically all of that part nearby, got cleared. Doug Still 15:29 Localized cutting happened for sure, but the forest leading upward from Illorai was still largely intact up until World War II. Local stories abound about the forest before the war, including from Gianluca’s family. Gianluca Grande 15:43 Even my father, who was born in 1939, he remembers going there as a young guy, working on the piece of land with my grandfather to cultivate, basically, the vegetables in the forest. My grandfather used to say that the forest, before, when he was a kid - so we are talking about the early 1900s when he was a kid - that the forest was so dense that you couldn't see the sky. So walking inside the forest was a challenge, because you needed some landmarks to get out of the forest to avoid getting lost. And these landmarks were the monumental trees, or rocks, or nuragis. Doug Still 16:35 I had the pleasure of meeting Pina Muras, an 86 year old matriarch of the town, who helped provide food and drink for us conference attendees, part of a larger group of local volunteers who were just wonderful. She has memories of the forest too. Gianluca helped interpret so she replied directly to him, and even brought up his family who she knew growing up. Pina Muras 16:57 Okay. (In Italian…) Voiceover 17:06 It really used to be a forest. As my mother and grandmother used to tell me, the trees were so thick that you couldn't see the light, and to find the way out of the woods they would make notches on the tree trunks to show the way. Then, around the 1940s, there was logging by a company from mainland Italy. They almost destroyed it completely. But after that, the forest managed to recover and it grew dense again. In 1956-1957 this area of Iscuvude was all vegetable gardens where potatoes and beans were grown. And on the other side of Iscuvude they would grow wheat. Your great grandmother and I walked up on foot from the village to bring food and pasta to the people working there on the threshing floor, like your grandfather. And I can tell you that the municipal lands from here all the way to the forest area were all used for sowing. Understand? Doug Still 18:13 After the war, that all changed. For reference, Parco di Iscuvudè is where the monumental tree conference was held, now a scenic natural park with dense stands of native oaks and other species. It connects to woodlands at higher elevations, where Sa Melabrina stands. It's hard to imagine that for a period the land was completely barren. (to Gianluca) You've shown me a photo from the 1970s of the land that is now the Parco di Iscuvudè. It was almost completely cleared of trees. When did the deforestation of Goceano and of Sardinia accelerate? Gianluca Grande 18:52 Little by little, they started having trucks, having cars, and being able to afford, like, longer trips. Doug Still 19:03 I see, things just sped up because of roads and trucks and equipment. Gianluca Grande 19:08 Yeah, trucks and equipment. Doug Still 19:10 Sa Melabrina, the most beautiful oak tree, stood right in the way of human progress. In fact, when the cutters came through at one point, it was marked for removal with a big “X.” How did it survive? We're going to take a short break. When we come back, we'll hear the story told at the conference about how the tree was saved, told by the guy who saved it. We'll also hear from Professor Gianluigi Bacchetta about the features of the Downy Oak, and learn about the many oaks of Sardinia and their specific ecology. You're listening to This Old Tree. [theme music] We have some exciting news to share. This Old Tree has received a grant from the Pobble Stone Foundation. This generous support, made possible through our fiscal sponsor, New England ISA, helps fund travel to visit remarkable trees and meet the wonderful people who love them. It supports production costs, and it also helps us do something we greatly value - keep this podcast ad free. If you or your organization would like to support This Old Tree, we'd love to hear from you. You can reach out directly, or visit the support page at thisoldtree.show. A heartfelt “thank you” to the Pobble Stone Foundation. We're so grateful for your belief in this work. [Choral Music - Illorai Chamber Ensemble] Doug Still 20:53 I have to admit that except for several polite phrases I don't speak Italian. I could barely follow along during the speaking portion of the conference, although visuals helped. So it was without immediate understanding that I noticed one speaker in particular held the audience in rapt attention as he told a moving story. The speaker was Graziano Nudda, and I learned the specifics later from Gianluca. Gianluca Grande 21:20 Yeah, the Graziano story is about the 1970s or 80s, I think. He was a young arborist that just graduated from the university. So basically, he saved the Melabrina tree from cutting because it was already being marked to be cut for firewood. Doug Still 21:45 The wide-eyed forester, fresh out of the University of Sassari, accompanied forestry crews into the mountains of Goceano. He tried to square what he learned about forest ecology with what was happening on the ground. The old oak tree was different, though, and he found his nerve. Here's some of his story translated to English. Graziano Nudda (voiceover) 22:06 “On a typical November morning in 1977, slightly foggy and drizzly, two forestry offices in the Bono station, whose jurisdiction ranged from Anela to Illorai, came to pick me up to go into the Illorai mountain area. There, they had already marked a section of woodland containing “over mature” trees, those that had reached an age considered beyond the rotation of their species, and were preparing to cut them, especially in the public communal lands. We arrived in the mountains within the municipal forest of Illorai in the area of Sa Melabrina. The concession holders were preparing their chainsaws and other necessary tools, while the three of us - the Brigadier Domenico Paba, Officer Mario Pisano, and myself - began inspecting the area designated for cutting. The forestry officers had already marked all the trees to be felled in order to meet the firewood needs of each concession holder residing in the municipality of Illorai. I still remember the multitude of century old trees in the area. Half of them were to be cut, and most were felled in those days. So we stopped in silence as soon as we reached the great San Melabrina oak, majestic and towering above the other still large trees of various species. Even this great tree had been marked with a stamp instead of the usual forestry hammer imprint placed on a smooth area at the base of the trunk. I remained silent, thinking back to Professor De Philippe's lesson on forest ecology and the importance of ancient trees: hollow and therefore sheltering wildlife; tall enough to host nests of various birds; producers of seeds useful for a progeny of dominant specimens; and much more. The forestry officers noticed my hesitation in an instant. They asked if I disagreed with cutting the tree, and they said there would be no problem in saving it without waiting for my response. Mario Pisano, who sadly passed away more than 20 years ago, went to find the concession holder assigned that tree. He returned a few minutes later with a man from Illorai holding a large chain saw ready to work. But he was told that a different tree would be assigned to him, perhaps in a more convenient location for felling and transport, because the tree had to remain standing. Nearly 50 years have passed, and the great oak is still doing well. It still hosts wildlife and now also thousands of visitors who could admire and imagine what Sardinia's forest, wildlife and waters once looked like.” Gianluca Grande 24:56 So they passed by, and he said, “No, not this tree, not this time today. You're not going to cut this tree. You can move further down in the forest, find something else.” But he recognized the value of the tree, and thanks to him, we still have the Melabrina tree standing. Doug Still 25:21 A shift in thinking was happening about what was important. It began in the universities, but took time to filter into government practices. Perhaps the unique ecology of Sardinia was worth preserving, in addition to its ancient archeological sites. To this day, Sa Melabrina is a symbol of this change. Gianluca Grande 25:41 Well, around the 1990s, the Sardinian government decided to create a regional public forestry agency, which was called Ante Foresta de la Sardinia, which is now Forestas. It is a regional agency for the management of forest and the land of Sardinia. So it basically manages and protects large areas of the public forest and the rural land. Its work basically includes forest maintenance, the reforestation, the wildfire prevention, the biodiversity, and the habitat conservation. So since then, Graziano Nudda became, after 12 or 15 years from when he saved the tree, he became the Chief Director of this agency. And little by little, they started preserving the forest, replanting the forest. And there was also a shift in the population that started understanding the value of the forest and the value of the trees. Doug Still 27:07 One fascinating ecological measure that Graziano spoke about was to allow livestock to stay within these communal forests and concession lands, and avoid fencing them out. This supported pastoral activity, reduced fire risk by eliminating dry herbaceous vegetation, and added manure to the soil. The new forest thrived. A past forestry professor labeled this “diplomatic silviculture,” a practice to the mutual benefit of local shepherds and forest managers. The patchwork of small meadows to be seen now in the forest is particularly beautiful, suggestive of the world of shepherds in classical mythology. I sidestepped quite a number of cow patties on our forest walk to Sa Melabrina. The old oak tree holds court in the middle of this relatively new forest. And it’s not the only one that survived the era of deforestation. Illorai is home to 40 monumental trees, a designation managed by the Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Forestry Policies in Rome since a Ministerial Decree was announced in 2013. Illorai has the highest number of monumental trees in Sardinia. Visiting Sa Melabrina and these other honored woodland denizens is a reason to explore these gorgeous landscapes and treat them as part of the local heritage. (to Gianluca) When did the concept of monumental trees gain your attention? Gianluca Grande 28:37 I believe it was the early 2000’s, thanks to Professor Camarda, Ignazio Camarda. He started talking about the Melabrina tree in Illorai. In the books, they were still talking about the value of our forest here in our area. Little by little, the people of Illorai start going in the forest trying to find this, this tree that was known. For the people working like shepherds or people working for Forestas, they knew about this tree. But the common person like me didn't know. The citizens of Illorai started giving attention to the value of our forest, the value of Iscuvude, which as you have seen, we have plenty of monumental trees in the park. Little by little, the attention grew, and even my interest, since I have a degree in the landscape of architecture. So it's kind of like my background, more or less, and I also have a degree in agriculture. Doug Still 29:58 Fantastic. They are so lucky to have a landscape architect as their mayor. Gianluca Grande 30:03 Yeah, indeed. Doug Still 30:06 Ignacio Camarda, he seemed like a very important figure for the history of trees and forestry in Sardinia. He was a professor? Gianluca Grande 30:16 Yes, he was a very well known botanist in Sardinia, and he passed away January 2024. As me and Professor Bachetta were working on the conference, we started planning to invite Professor Camarda. Just a few days before we sent an invitation, an email, he passed away, so that's why we decided to remember him in this conference. Doug Still 30:52 It was nice that he was honored. Gianluca Grande 30:54 Yeah, yeah. Doug Still 30:56 Was he a poet? Gianluca Grande 30:57 Yeah, he was a poet too. He wrote several books, and the wife just mailed me one of his books. Yeah, it's a book, full of like, text and poetry. An interesting person with many points of view. Doug Still 31:15 I wish I could have met him. A tree was planted in Professor Camarda’s honor at the conclusion of the conference. Flurries of snow did not dampen the enthusiasm to grab shovels and honor him and his legacy. Two other trees were planted as well - one for Professor Edoardo Bondi who passed away in November 2024, and another for Professor Sandro Pignati who passed away in June 2025. The importance of scientific research permeated every lecture at the conference, and the connection between university and practice was inspirational. Gianluca mentioned that Professor Gianluigi Bacchetta of the University of Cagliari was a co-organizer. His influence was essential for bringing the right people together. He has published hundreds of papers on the flora of Sardinia, and is a towering figure in Mediterranean botany. With an amiable personality and sense of humor, he was also very approachable. Since no one knows more about the Downy Oak and Sardinia’s oak species in general, I pulled him aside at a quiet moment to learn more about the trees surrounding us. All the oaks were unfamiliar to me, and prepare yourself for a flurry of Latin names. If interested in learning more, I’ll list them out in the show notes for this episode. We were outside under a shelter. It was raining. (to Gianluigi Bacchetta) Could you tell me your name and your position? Gianluigi Bacchetta 33:00 My name is Gianluigi Bachetta. I'm the director of the Center for the Conservation of Biodiversity and the Seed Bank of Sardinia of the University of Calgary. So I am full professor at the University of Cagliari. Doug Still 33:01 I'm very honored to speak with you. Gianluigi Bacchetta 33:03 Me too. Doug Still 33:05 I'm going to ask you questions about the Downy Oak, Quercus pubescens. Gianluigi Bacchetta 33:11 Yeah. In fact, in Sardinia, we don't have Quercus pubescens, sensu stricto, but we have some other taxa related to Quercus pubescens. In particular, we have in the coastal area Quercus virgiliana. In the central part of the island we have other two interesting Quercus named Quercus dalechampii and the endemic Quercus ichnusae. And in the upper part of central Sardinia, in particular in the Gennargentu Massif and in the Gocceano area, so here we have also Quercus congesta. Doug Still 33:59 The professor listed a number of other Quercus species, the genus name for Oak. Gianluigi Bacchetta 34:03 So in total we have eight Quercus species on our island. Doug Still 34:09 I'm asking the right person. [both chuckle] So, Sa Melabrina…. Gianluigi Bacchetta 34:14 Melabrina is the most important Quercus dalechampii, in this case. Doug Still Dalechampii. Gianluigi Bacchetta Yes, the species Quercus dalechampii, but we speak more in general of the Quercus pubescens group, and is the most important plant in Sardinia of this species. But around Sa Melabrina we have many other Quercus like this, with similar dimensions. So with a trunk and a circumference that reaches more than six meters and an age that's of many centuries, for sure. Doug Still 35:00 So how long can they live? Gianluigi Bacchetta 35:02 Normally, Quercus don't live more than 600-700 years. I’m quite sure that here in the Gocceano Massif we have many plants that reach 400 or perhaps 500 years, but no more. Because in the past, people of Sardinia in this area used this land for grazing, and unfortunately, fire damage in this marvelous woods. Doug Still 35:44 What's the common name for this tree in Italian? Gianluigi Bacchetta 35:48 Roverella. Roverella is the common name. But depending on the area in Italy, we have other names. In this case, in Sardinia, we speak about chercu. Chercu is the name of the Roverella in the Sardinian language, because the Sardinian language is not a dialect of the Italian language. It's another language, totally independent. Doug Still 36:21 Right. So, multiple names. Gianluigi Bacchetta 36:24 Yeah, multiple names, for sure. Doug Still 36:26 If an English speaking person says “Downy Oak,” is that accurate? Gianluigi Bacchetta 36:31 Yeah, it's accurate, yeah. Doug Still 36:33 Ok great. How do we recognize a Downy Oak? Gianluigi Bacchetta 36:38 We have different character, morphological character, based on the leaves in this case, and also based on the fruit. So the fruit, it's important to recognize… Doug Still … the acorns. Gianluigi Baccetta Yeah, for sure. Doug Still 37:02 There's a downy layer of hairs on the underside of the leaves. Gianluigi Bacchetta 37:07 Yeah, yeah. Doug Still 37:08 Also on the buds, I've noticed. Gianluigi Bacchetta 37:10 Yeah, this character, it's common to all the species related to the Quercus pubescens group. It's very important, the hair on the underside of the leaf. Doug Still 37:26 We walked around a bit, and he described how the climate changes at higher altitudes, which changes the species composition. Gianluigi Bacchetta 37:33 In Sardinia, we have the dominance of the Mediterranean climate. But when we go up in this central and northern part of Sardinia, we have a mixture of temperate climate and the Mediterranean climate. So we stay here in a condition that is not properly Mediterranean. It's temperate. Doug Still 37:57 I've noticed that the oaks have ferns on the branches. Moss and lichens. Gianluca Grande 38:05 Yeah. Doug Still 38:06 That takes quite a bit of moisture in order for that… Gianluigi Bacchetta 38:08 Yeah for sure. Here, the mean precipitation, it's around 1200 millimeters per year. But we also have a good amount of crypto precipitation. So the clouds stay here Doug Still …fog… Gianluigi Bacchetta …the fog. For this reason, we have many lichens on the stem, and many ferns. In particular, the most common fern, it's Polypodium cambricum, like this (shows Doug). Doug Still 38:45 It's quite its own ecosystem up there. Gianluigi Bacchetta 38:48 Yeah, it's an ecosystem because it's not a tree. It's a tree with moss, lichens…. Doug Still 38:58 …over time, soil. Gianluigi Bacchetta 39:00 Yeah, for sure. Many, many places it is possible to find different mammals or birds that live in this tree. Doug Still 39:12 Very interesting. I think oaks support more life than almost any other species. Gianluigi Bacchetta 39:18 Yeah. Doug Still 39:19 Insects, birds, mammals. Gianluigi Bacchetta 39:22 Yeah. Doug Still 39:22 Have you written papers about the oaks? Probably many papers. Gianluigi Bacchetta 39:27 Yeah. In fact, I described Quercus ichnusae in 1999. After, I described all the wood in the island, and in 2009 I published a monograph of all the vegetation of the Sardinian Island and the vegetation map of Sardinia. Doug Still 39:51 Fantastic. Gianluigi Bacchetta 39:52 I’ll send to you all these maps. Doug Still 39:54 They should name the oak after you. (both laugh) Sa Melabrina. Gianluigi Bacchetta 40:00 Sa Melabrina. Doug Still 40:01 Did I pronounce that, okay? Gianluigi Bacchetta 40:02 Yeah. Doug Still 40:03 What makes that tree special? Gianluigi Bacchetta 40:06 Because of the shape, the morphology of the plant, the place we can find these plants. It's a very beautiful, ancient wood in the middle of landscape, total wilderness. So all these aspects permit us to recognize Sa Melabrina. And for sure, the dimension of the plant. Doug Still 40:31 The dimension, yes. So the forest has come back, and everything's good, right? Not so fast. After a couple of centuries of prospectors tapping Sardinia for its resources, Gianluca and others know that the job of defending their forests, towns, and way of life is never over. [Theme music] After a short break, I talk some more with the mayor about what some outside corporations are eyeing now: Sardinia’s wind and sunlight. You're listening to This Old Tree. [Choral music - Illorai Choral Ensemble] Modern day Sardinians hold a fierce protective stance toward their land and culture. Like an ancient river, it flows just below their friendly exterior. To fully understand it, we need to look back to 1969. An event occurred in the small highland town of Orgosolo that was formative for the older generation who witnessed it, and now younger Sardinians who’ve come to appreciate it with reverence and pride. Known as the Pratobello Uprising, Pratobello was a communal pasture that the people of Orgosolo had worked for generations. In May of 1969, the Italian Government, specifically the Ministry of Defense, ordered shepherds to leave their land so that it could be transformed to a military firing range. For locals, the decree threatened their relationship with the land and their very livelihood. In June, just a few weeks later, civil resistance began that echoed actions seen abroad in the 1960s. From a town of about 4,500 people, 3,500 men and women, including children and elders, occupied the pastures in peaceful protest. It was unprecedented in Sardinia. They brought their tents, cooking equipment, animals, and music. There were no violent clashes, no vandalism, no weapons. After ten days, the Italian army abandoned the project and withdrew. The protest entered Sardinian history as a victory for local will and unity. If you visit Orgosolo today you will see murals throughout the town celebrating the event. Flash forward to 2024. The “Legge Pratobello” or Pratobello Law was passed by the Autonomous Region of Sardinia to protect agricultural and pastoral landscapes from new forms of external pressure. It is a statute that requires the mandatory involvement of municipalities in authorizing projects that potentially swallow up chunks of territory with high environmental impact. Pratobello ‘24 had popular support, and was inspired by the uprising of 1969. It was meant to address new threats. What kind of new threats? Gianluca explains. Doug Still You mentioned that certain big industries from outside of Sardinia have been eyeing the island for development in recent years. Could you talk about that a little bit more? Gianluca Grande 44:01 Well, Sardinia is basically at the center of intense debate about large scale wind farms and solar farms that are no needed here. Basically, we are suffering about this project forced by the government and the big companies to transform our landscape into something else. Doug Still 44:31 Oh, good heaven. It's hard to think of a better way to divide environmentalists who love renewable energy than to impose it on sensitive natural areas. It makes me think of a battle in my home state of Rhode Island over solar companies clear cutting whole sections of forests in order to install fields of solar panels. It's cheaper for them that way. One valuable resource was being traded for another. Thankfully, the outcry led to legislation that brings smarter, more holistic planning. That is exactly what happened in Sardinia. Gianluca Grande 45:04 We do have some of these solar parks and wind farms, but the way they want to invade all of the territory of Sardinia is something that the people of Sardinia don't like. We want to be part of the decision, and not just one entity that has to, you know, agree without speaking. Some of the tension generated a civic movement that is called Pratobello ‘24, which is an initiative that 200,000 people in Sardinia signed up for, basically asking the regional government of Sardinia to take some actions about it and to regulate this kind of like installation, and let the people of the territory speak about it if they want it or do not want it. It's something that impacts the landscape, and I can tell you, it's something that I'm really keen on, because when I graduated in 2010 my final project was about how to build a solar park into a forest. My point was to say, hey, we can do this in a certain way - how we can let the green energy get along within the landscape. Doug Still 46:44 And how we can find balance. Gianluca Grande 46:47 Yeah, find the balance. Yeah. Find, find the compromise between getting the green energy without destroying the landscape. Doug Still 46:59 The effort made Gianluca think about Sa Melabrina and the other ancient trees across Sardinia, disconnected and vulnerable. Perhaps they should be part of this conversation too. The monumental tree network idea was born. (to Gianluca) One thing I admire about you is that you also have the vision and energy to think beyond your own town. Why did you organize the recent conference of monumental trees? Gianluca Grande 47:23 Well, thank you. Thank you very much for that. So the idea - I was reading about all of the monumental trees that we have in Sardinia, which are many. Because I think that there are around 400 or 300 or something, I don't remember the right number now. So, I was reading about all of different stories about one tree is over here, one tree is over there, and blah, blah, blah, but we are all facing the same issues. Like how to improve the access and preserve these trees - kind of find the right tool to let people visit the tree, and how to preserve the tree from the visitors too. So I started thinking, why? Why don't put all of our energies in just one place, and use this tool to have some leverage, to ask for funds, to ask for whatever we need to preserve this great value that we have in Sardinia, because a tree is not like a building, A building, you can preserve it. You can rebuild the building. But a tree, when it's burnt, is burnt. When it's cut, it dies. There is no second chance. Doug Still 48:52 They need a different sort of protection. Gianluca Grande 48:54 Yeah, yeah. Sort of protection, to protect, to enhance the value somehow, and to let people of Sardinia know the great treasure that we have. So I started working on a document that I sent to more than 120 municipalities, asking them to join this network. And since the conference, I still get informed phone calls of mayors willing to join, to join us, and sign the document. Doug Still 49:37 So you invited mayors from all across Sardinia. How many came to the conference? Gianluca Grande 49:43 There were around - between the conference and after there were around the 30 municipalities that signed it and took part in the agreement called "Rete Sarda Alberi Monumentali," which is the Sardinian Network of Monumental Trees. Doug Still 50:03 The signing ceremony was really something. After important speeches, the thirty Sardinian mayors lined up in front of the room with Gianluca Grande at the center. All were wearing matching shoulder sashes of red, white, and green, the colors of the Italian flag. Then they took turns signing the document pledging their commitment to the monumental tree network, the “Rete Sarda Alberi Monumentali.” Everyone in the room snapped pictures with their phones. I’ve been to a lot of tree ceremonies, but none quite like this. (to Gianluca) What was the purpose of that document? Gianluca Grande 50:40 The purpose was an agreement to work together for the same goal, basically protecting and trying to give the right value to those trees. Find a way to preserve them and let people know about the story of the trees and let them visit. Doug Still 51:04 I asked Gianluca how the tree network might contribute to redirecting land grabs by international green industry companies. Gianluca Grande 51:13 Well, my hope is like to be able as a network to stand up and have the government of Sardinia make a law or some regulation about avoiding the wind farms and the solar farms in the areas where we have a concentration or a specific monumental tree. Some other areas that we have, like some industrial areas that are no longer in use, we can focus on reusing those areas. But not near a landscape that has an identity. The identity is basically represented by the monumental tree that has been there for probably 1000 years. We need a critical mass. We need to build a community of people that are going toward that direction. Doug Still 52:19 There's one other benefit that Gianluca has alluded to, and it's a big one. Ecotourism. If done right and promoted collectively, a monumental tree network is a potential boon to Sardinia's struggling towns. Gianluca Grande 52:34 The purpose of the document is basically to find a connection between all of the municipalities and all of the territories, while inviting people and tourists to visit them. Doug Still 52:52 Well, I think it's a great way to travel around Sardinia - to look at monumental trees, to see the nuraghe, to see the history, to eat the wonderful food and meet people. Gianluca Grande 53:05 Yeah. Doug Still 53:05 I think traveling to see trees is one of the most interesting things you can do. Gianluca Grande 53:10 And my great hope is like to have a national network, or even a European network, because the more we are, the better we can work on protecting these trees. Doug Still 53:29 Or worldwide network. Gianluca Grande 53:31 Or a worldwide network. Well, I didn't want to say that, because it was too much, but yeah, I love that. Doug Still I think you're part of it. You are part of it. How can celebrating Sa Melabrina and your other monumental trees help Illorai? Gianluca Grande 53:49 in my point of view, the issue is, like many people, my citizens are waiting for something that comes from outside of our community to save our community. They still have the mentality, looking for something that comes from outside of our town, outside of our territory, to save us. And instead, for me, it is the other way. We should use what we have here to grow and improve ourselves and save our town however we can, instead of waiting for somebody else or something else coming for us. Doug Still 54:34 What Illorai has, is their natural heritage. Charming old trees worth visiting due to their great beauty as well as local stories that span time from the ancient past to the present day. Of course, Ecotourism brings people to restaurants and B&B’s as well as the trees and nuraghe. And just maybe, former townspeople might return to Illorai to rediscover it, just as Gianluca did. [sounds of nature and distant voices] Back to the tour and event at Sa Melabrina. I met so many interesting people and spoke with as many as I could. One gentleman was an arborist named Carlo Poddi who performed sonic tomography recently on one of the oak tree’s main branches that was a cause for concern. It is a non-invasive diagnostic method to detect internal decay by measuring the speed of sound waves through the wood. Could you state your name? Carlo Poddi 55:32 Carlo Poddi. Arborist from Sardinia. Doug Still 55:39 And what are we looking at? You're showing me with a pointer on the tree… Carlo Poddi 55:43 On the tree, the breaking of this, because the branch is too long. And it it is a branch that can cause very big damage. The branch was broken many, many years ago. Doug Still 55:58 Yes, and it's twisted, with new growth at the bottom. Carlo Poddi 56:02 Yeah, yeah. This branch is the only - this side has vitality, and the other side the branch keeps the vitality. Because you see the whole branch is becoming - it's coming down. Doug Still 56:25 Yes, they're falling. I had some middle school kids following me around because they were taking English in school and wanted to test it out on me. We had some silly fun. (to the kids) How do you say, "Oh my god." Kids 56:40 O-M-G!. Doug Still 56:43 OMG, that’s right. Gianluca Grande 56:44 Oh my gosh, my goodness. Doug Still 56:48 And you know what “6-7” is? Kids 56:50 Six seven! Six seven! Gianluca Grande 56:55 I'm old. I'm in my 40s. I don't know… Doug Still Grazie. Kids Prego. Doug Still 57:02 Then I ran it to Gianluigi Bacchetta again and got his views on the conference. (to Gianluigi Bacchetta) What would you say is the main takeaway, the main message of the conference this week? Gianluigi Bacchetta 57:19 For sure that we need to go in a direction that permits us to work together, all together, because life is for sharing. We need to share information. We need to collaborate. In a place like Sardinia, it's very important, the collaboration between university, regional agencies like AGRIS, Forestas, and the territorial community. So we need to work all together to protect and to valorize this incredible heritage that is not for us, it's for our children and for the future. Doug Still 58:08 Gianluca was working the crowd, telling stories about the tree. Gianluca Grande 58:13 Many years ago, they set up a fire inside the trunk, that is hollow. It was hollow at the time, and basically, back in the days, my grandpa used to say that the shepherds, they were able to feed up to 12 ships inside. Doug Still 58:31 Amazing. It's hard to imagine now. Gianluca Grande 58:33 Oh yeah. But if you can see there are, like, many stones all around the tree. It would just enclose the barrier and leave them inside there, especially when there was up to 60 centimeters of snow in winter. So very, very cold, right? Doug Still 58:52 And it would have been in the shepherds? Gianluca Grande 58:54 Yes. Doug Still 58:59 This tree played a big part in bringing us together. The town saved the 900 year old Downy Oak from the axe, a symbol of survival, memory, and hope. Now perhaps the tree can return the favor, and help save the town. Here’s the last passage of Ignazio Camarda’s poem, “The Most Beautiful Oak.” When I pass by again in a hundred years, alone, two or three, I would like to see in the same place those holm oaks, those hawthorns, those wild cherry trees and the red December holly, which I gathered without harm, to cheer the heart filled with winter fog. Then, I would like to remind those who can still listen to the water flowing over the stones and the sound of the grass growing that to have everything all that's needed is the shade of a centuries-old oak. [Outro - choral music] Doug Still 1:00:11 Thank you listeners, for joining in to hear about Sa Melabrina. I hope you enjoyed the journey to Sardinia to learn about their love of monumental trees. And thanks to ALL the people I met who agreed to be interviewed and share their stories - Professor Gianluigi Bacchetta, Pina Muras, Graziano Nudda, and Carlo Poddi. Most of all of course, I need to thank Mayor Gianluca Grande for his wonderful interview, his thorough research, hospitality, and leadership. NONE of this would have been possible without him. I wish I could mention everyone I met, but I’d like to single out the volunteers from Illorai who made all of the delicious pasta, bread, and Sardinian dishes we ate at every meal, and especially the locally made Cannonau wine. Gianluca explained that they are a nonprofit organization called Porloco. So warm and friendly. A couple of them sing in a local church choir, and yes, they have been singing the beautiful music we’ve been listening to. Thank you so much for sharing it! Much appreciation to the voice-over readers Manuela Buananno and Jeff Taliaferro. As usual, the show’s theme music is by Dee Lee. Visit the show website at thisoldtree.show, transcripts will become available soon. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram to see photos of Sa Melabrina and the people who we’ve met. The podcast is now a sponsored project of the New England Chapter of the International Society of Arboriculture. Visit newenglandisa.org to learn more about this great organization. Thanks again for listening. I’m Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree.
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This Old Tree with Doug Still
On Defense: Estonia's Stadium Oak - Transcript Season 3, Episode 5 December 31, 2025 Doug Still 00:00 You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them, and a sponsored project of New England ISA. Doug Still 00:14 An oak tree stands right smack dab in the middle of a soccer field, or football pitch, as it's known in the UK and parts of Europe. This football pitch can be found in Estonia, in the little town of Orissaare on the island of Saaremaa. [Music - "Saaremaa valss," Georg Ots] Estonians actually call the field a stadium, even if there isn't a big arena or stands for spectators. It's all a bit confusing for an American. Anyway, local teams and the kids at the Youth Center across the street just play around the 150 year old oak tree, technically a Quercus robur with common names English oak, pedunculate oak, or common oak, as it's native to Europe. Games continue as if this was perfectly normal. The location of this long time member of the Orissaare community is generally taken in stride by residents, and perhaps adds to a home field advantage. But the tree has become much more than a local curiosity. In 2015 it won the European Tree of the Year contest, and thus became a source of Estonian national pride. It garnered nearly 60,000 votes, barely beating out the Great Plane of Tata of Hungary, as well as trees from Spain, Poland, the Czech Republic and the UK. How did a tree from tiny Estonia gain enough support to outcompete these other European powerhouses? The answer lies, in part, with brilliant PR devised by a local arborist from Orissaare. His name is Heiki Hanso, an irrepressible man-on-a-mission to make his favorite tree famous. To find the rest of the answer, we'll need to look at the tree's legend and how it symbolizes something deep within the Estonian psyche - the need for defense from foreign invaders. But its people also have a love of trees and forests shaped by old folk tales as well as ancient views toward animism in the natural world. Here to help explain all this is Aliide Naylor, a British author and historian with family ties to Estonia. Aliide and I had the chance to travel to Estonia to meet in person, explore the story, and to interview Heiki Hanso as well as another lifelong resident, Andla Rüütel, the manager of Orissaare Sports School. So come along to hear about the Staadioni Tamm, Estonia's Stadium Oak. I'm Doug still, and this is This Old Tree. [Theme Song] Doug Still 03:21 The Stadium Oak first came to my attention out of the blue when Aliide Naylor messaged me via Instagram in June. “Could you be interested in covering this oak in the middle of a football stadium in Estonia?” she asked, and included a link with some brief history. I looked her up, and Aliide’s resume is impressive. She is a British-Estonian journalist and author of The Shadow in the East: Vladimir Putin and the New Baltic Front published by Bloomsbury in 2020. Her work has appeared in Politico Europe, New Statesman, The Times of London, and Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty. I responded, and soon we were on Zoom discussing the Estonian tree. In addition to its status as winner of the European Tree of Year, she shared the basic outline of a captivating story, the tree’s legend. Estonia was occupied by the Soviet Union from 1944 through 1991, a very difficult time for most of its people. It was the second Soviet occupation actually. In the late 1940’s, the Soviets created the stadium in Orissaare, and Stalin’s tractors attempted to pull down the old oak tree in order to clear the field. But they couldn’t do it, the cables tied to the tree snapped. The oak stood its ground, and the workers gave up. The tree still stands today, a symbol of resistance to Russia. That was all I needed to hear. To make a long story short, in November I was picking Aliide up in my rental car at the airport in Tallinn, Estonia’s capital. We planned a two hour drive to the island of Saaremaa to see the tree for ourselves in Orissaare. And without ever having met us, the tree’s arborist Heiki Hanso offered to put us up in his air bnb (confirm) since it was the off season and he had space. Leaving the airport, I remarked to Aliide about three flags flying at its entrance. The center one was the Estonian flag of course, with three colors - blue, black, and white. Aliide explained the colors symbolize a view of the landscape - blue for the sky, black for the dark forest, and white for snow. To the left was the flag for the European Union, of which Estonia has been a member since 2004. The other flag caught my attention - the flag of Ukraine, blue and yellow for sky above golden wheat fields. The show of support for Ukraine seems obvious once you understand where Estonia lies. It is on the eastern end of the Baltic Sea in northern Europe, a short ferry ride from Helsinki at the base of Finland. It is the northern-most Baltic country, along with Latvia and Lithuania. For Americans, Estonia is about the size of Vermont and New Hampshire put together. Apparently 15 Estonias would fit into the state of Texas (thank you Google). Several islands exist off its western coast, the largest being Saaremaa, about the size of my home state of Rhode Island. The main point here though, is that directly over the eastern border is its massive neighbor, Russia. St. Petersburg is just 87 miles or 140 kilometers away. That border is not only physically and psychologically crucial for Estonia, but also a stark divide between democratic Europe and an aggressive Russia. The fate of Ukraine in its war of defense against Russia weighs especially heavy on the minds of Estonians, as well as all of the countries that form the eastern border of Europe.The Ukrainian flag at the airport lets every visitor know that. Doug Still 07:19 The drive to Saaremaa was rainy but lovely, through forest and farmland. One speeding ticket and one ferry ride later we were in Orissaare by late afternoon. Before heading to meet Heiki, we made a beeline to the Youth Sports Center where Aliide had set up an interview with a woman named Andla Ruutel, the manager of the Sports School. Born and raised in the town, Andla shared her perspective on the tree and its place in the community. Aliide conducted most of the interview, because Andla wasn’t confident about her English, although she answered in both English and Estonian. In the background, you can hear sounds of kids in the gym. Aliide Naylor 07:57 Okay, so my first question that I only have in English is about this particular building here. Is this the core of the stadium that the Soviets started to build? Or is this a new construction? Andla Rüütel (translated) 08:17 We are located in the Orissaare Sports Building, which is a 12 yr-old building. It is part of the Orissaare Youth Center which, as you saw, is basically full of children and young people from morning to night. Before Orissaare, or before this new sports building, we had a small gym. We saw it on our walk together, which was built in the 1960’s. If we go back in time, first of all, during the First Republic of Estonia, or in the 1930’s, there was the same square where the stadium is located in Orissaare. Then, the old gym was built, then this new sports building was built in 2013. Aliide Naylor 08:57 Okay, and what is your and your and your family's personal connection to the stadium? Andla Rüütel (translated) 09:06 Okay, I have a personal contact from childhood. Since I am an alumnus of Orissaare School, and I went to the Orissaare Community Gymnasium, we had all our physical education classes right there at the stadium. And to be completely honest, at the time we didn’t notice that this stadium was anything special. It was just that this tree was there and it was, like, natural. My husband is a football coach, and he has been doing sports since he was little. Their group has some nice memories of the stadium’s tree. In a football game, for example, they knew how to pass so that the ball would bounce off the tree and then move somewhere. And once there was even a story where the goalkeeper kicked the ball into play, hit the tree too hard, and it bounced back into the goal. That basically this oak has also made a goal. Aliide Naylor 10:00 So you mentioned that you had your memories from childhood here. Andla Rüütel 10:04 We have sports lessons there, but it was so normal for us. It was so normal, the tree in the middle of the stadium. It was nothing special. Doug Still 10:26 Andla and the young people who’ve played football under the oak for decades may consider it normal, but its legend has reverberated for at least four generations. As site manager Andla wanted to know more, so she began digging for stories about the tree in old newspapers. Andla shared an article with Aliide from 1997 that records the memories of an old woman called Melania Tiivit. Apparently there used to be a traditional Estonian village swing attached to the tree in the 1930’s called a Külakiik. In the olden days, this type of large swing for multiple adults could be found on the village green of almost every rural town across Estonia. In addition to the swing, Tiivit said the big oak tree was a gathering place for both young and old, and people would dance beneath it during festivals. Aliide asked Andla about her research into the Soviet legend. Aliide Naylor 11:24 Going back to the information that you've collected. So there was this popular myth that the rope broke during stadium construction, and you said that you rather believe the story that in the late 1940s when the stadium was being built, then the tractor’s power did not start. So somebody just decided to make the decision to let it stay, to symbolize the perseverance and tenacity of our athletes. So why do you believe this version of the story instead? Like, what in your research has led you to this conclusion? Andla Rüütel (translated) 11:56 Okay, I read this from two different newspapers. The meaning of the sentences was the same in both newspapers, but the words were different. And the way of saying it had also changed over time. One story was told by an old man, the other by another person. I don't know if I should believe this story or not. But I think it's a very good story to tell. I can understand that the construction workers had a problem. They didn't know whether to keep the tree or not. And since they didn't manage to take it down, they just kept it. But the symbol is still great. Why can't it be... why does everything have to be conventional? It doesn't have to be…why can't it be a tree in the middle of the stadium? My main job is to manage the sports school, and our children's sports school is doing well in Estonia. I don't think it was a bad idea for us to keep it. It's a strange stadium. It's not a good idea for the students of Orissaare to become Estonian champions, to go and play abroad. So I think this story is really great. It can be continued. You can make a symbol out of it. A story or a symbol has already been made out of it. Doug Still 13:30 Does the tree receive any special care? Andla Rüütel 13:40 Yes, sometimes in the evening you are seeing Heiki Hanso. He's the arborist. Heiki Hanso 13:46 My name is Heiki Hanso. I live in Estonia, Saaremaa Island. Doug Still 13:52 Because of steady rain and early darkness, Aliide and I skipped visiting the tree in the stadium and met Heike at his home that also serves as a summertime B&B. Blonde and blue-eyed, he met us on the porch with his two boys, Otto and Hugo, who were there with another young friend. The house was really cool. Live edge wood was everywhere, forming cabinets, countertops, and a centralized stairway that rose to the second floor. Support columns were whole tree trunks, including a large one next to the kitchen with foot-long branches left on it that Otto and Hugo used to climb to the ceiling. The home felt alive and magical. Heiki built it himself with extensive use of wood and materials repurposed from the tree business that he owns. The house says a lot about him, and a love of trees is not the only thing. I got the sense that using just his hands and ingenuity, Heiki is a guy that can make anything happen. Straightaway, I asked him about the tree in Orissaare and what it’s called. Heiki Hanso 14:55 The most famous Estonian tree is called Football Oak, Stadium Oak, or Orissaare Oak. Doug Still 15:02 Orissara Oak, yes. And what's oak in Estonian? Heiki Hanso Tamm, yes. Doug Still Tamm? Heiki Hanso Tamm. Doug Still So in Estonian, you might say.. Heiki Hanso 15:11 Staadioni Tamm. [Staadioni Tamm] From here, this oak tree has been a part of our childhood, part of our sports-hood, if you may say so. And like every Orissaaran, people have been growing up with this tree. It's been there for nearly 200 years, we believe. So it's a historical tree for us, and it's a part of our community. Doug Still 15:46 You've known it since you were a boy. Heiki Hanso Of course, yeah. Doug Still Did you play football on that field… [Of course]... around the tree? Heiki Hanso 15:53 A million times. Yeah, I have. I was also the guy, one of the guys who climbed up the tree to rescue the ball when it gets stuck there. It happened quite a few times. Doug Still 16:09 Yes, right, and that was the beginning of your tree climbing career? Heiki Hanso 16:12 Indeed, it was! Doug Still 16:16 We had great fun getting to know Heiki during our first evening. He served us freshly caught perch for dinner, purchased from a local friend. While I’ve probably never had a whole fish on my plate in my entire American life, I manned up and cut the head off, quietly tucking it beneath the tin foil. Heiki had seasoned it with dill along with other dishes of cured salmon and cucumber salad. It was all really delicious. After dinner Aliide retired after a long day of travel, but Heiki suggested the two of us use the sauna outside on the second floor deck. Saunas are tremendously popular in Estonia, often used every day. This one was a glass dome Heiki had built with wooden seating, heated with a wood stove. Perfection. When hot enough, he convinced me to walk barefoot down a pitch dark path in the chilly rain to a small pond for a cold plunge. Despite his explanation of the health benefits I chickened out, but with headlamp on he nonchalantly descended into the icy water. Then we walked back to the sauna for round two. I could get used to Estonian life very quickly. The next morning, Heiki shared what Aliide and I had been waiting for, a visit to the Stadium Oak. (on location) Doug Still It's beautiful. Yeah, we're standing underneath the canopy. What would you say the diameter is? Heiki Hanso 17:45 Just diameter? Maybe 120, 130.. Doug Still 17:48 Centimeters. Heiki Hanso 17:51 Yeah, centimeters. Doug Still 17:53 That’s 51 inches in diameter, and I estimate about 70 feet tall. Not the biggest Quercus robur in Europe, but quite substantial. The tree is a truly handsome specimen, with a perfectly symmetrical crown of branches. We saw it after leaf drop of course, but in summer the oak casts a dense shade, its leaves on the small side with soft round lobes on the margins. The lowest branches are high up on the trunk to create clearance for frequent activity beneath it, so the tree seems to stand tall with its head up, like a watchman over the old village green, now a football pitch. The solitary placement in the open landscape, with a few rec buildings on the outskirts, is where the oak finds its appealing stature. (to Heiki) Now there's a smaller field here, but also the bigger soccer field, like they take these nets away for the bigger games? Heiki Hanso 18:50 Yeah, that's the soccer field. Doug Still 18:54 I’ve got to stop calling it soccer. [laughter] Heiki Hanso 18:56 Is here, the first gate and then the other one, I don't remember how far from each other, but for the small kids and the classes. When there is not too many people, then they just shorten the field, right? Doug Still 19:14 (Pointing to the larger field) So that's more of an official size football field [yeah] that the tree is right in the middle. Heiki Hanso 19:19 And you see the tree is sort of west from the center, and a little bit to the one side. [yeah] So it's always there, like - what do you call it - protecting? What's called the team member who is the football defender? [defender] Yeah, so he's one of the defenders, yeah. Doug Still 19:44 Unless you're going the opposite way. [laughter] Heiki is the tree’s arborist, and he recently climbed the tree with rope and harness to inspect and prune it. Heiki Hanso 19:56 It's very even-crowned, and very nice structure. We made some coronet cuts, was a big dead branch, but otherwise there's not much dead wood. In the outer part here, the crown is really good. I like the final result. But as you see right now, without the leaves, you can see where it has been, ages ago, being cut back, like in a modern way of crown reduction. Doug Still 20:27 Now, are you doing crown reduction for safety, or for tree health purposes? Heiki Hanso 20:33 For safety, because there are a lot of kids playing around all the time. Doug Still 20:38 I remarked on the beautiful green moss that coated all the large, twisting branches. [yeah] That's because we're close to the ocean, with a lot of moisture in the air. Heiki Hanso 20:48 A lot of old trees in and around Estonia have moss on, quite common, and that's why we did also, when we climbed a few years ago to do work on it, we also agreed that we don't damage the moss and all this stuff on where you walk on the branch. Doug Still 21:11 You have to be very careful. Heiki Hanso 21:13 Yeah, it’s possible to just be careful. We didn't have to rush. Doug Still 21:17 Very considerate. I've never heard of an arborist protecting the moss on the branches. [yes] One thing that Heiki has been monitoring closely for years is the very large cavity at the base of the trunk. Heiki Hanso 21:30 So basically, even a tall person like you can go inside. Doug Still 21:35 Yes, we're looking inside the large cavity. It must be eight feet tall. [yes definitely] Both Aliide and I stepped inside it, it was hard to resist communing with the tree in that way. Heiki confirmed the wound was first caused by the Soviet tractors during construction back in the 1940s, a not-so-subtle symbol from the past. As cavities do, it keeps expanding. Heiki Hanso 22:03 A few decades back, some boys made a fire in here, and we noticed that after that the tissue got damaged so bad. Doug Still That was not helpful. Heiki Hanso No, and it has happened, I think, two times, when somebody just lit it inside. Doug Still 22:21 That could have been the end. [yeah] Aliide Naylor 22:25 I've noticed a few acorns on the ground. Have any kind of baby trees started to spring up? Heiki Hanso 22:29 Lots of people here are collecting the acorns from this tree to put in the corner of the garden to grow the babies of this tree. So we have lots and lots of descendants. If you find some acorns, you're welcome to take some. Aliide Naylor Smuggle them back into America or England. [laughter] Heiki Hanso Due to species protection, you are not allowed. But if you have some, we make a key holder. [laughter] Doug Still 23:00 I don't think they’ll arrest me. We could see and feel Heiki’s love for the Stadium Oak, which he’s climbed and cared for his whole life. It led him to nominate it for Estonian Tree of the Year, propelling it into the European Tree of the Year competition. There’s a deeper, cultural connection at play here though, where trees and forests equal life and survival. [theme music] We’re going to take a short break, but when we return, I sit down with Aliide Naylor to learn how trees illuminate Estonia’s spiritual and political past. You’re listening to This Old Tree. [music - "Ma vaatan paadist kiikriga," Boris Lehtlaan] Doug Still 24:00 Aliide, it's so nice to see you again. Thank you for having me and thank you for showing me Saaremaa and the parts of Estonia that you know so well. So we're here to follow up on many of the topics that you spoke about and we chatted about on our trip. You've been researching and exploring Estonian folklore for some time now. Could you describe the project you're working on? Aliide Naylor 24:33 So I started developing an interest, for want of a better phrase, in the neo-pagan communities in the Baltics around 2017 when I was researching my first book. And at the time, I kind of desperately wanted to focus on them more, as I felt like this spiritual connection to the land had been integral to the region's survival, despite repeated occupations and invasions. And now I'm trying to work on what will hopefully be a second book project that examines the modern iterations of these nature-rooted spiritualities and how integral they are to community, national identity and culture, and also looking at a maybe renewed interest in them amongst the younger generations. Something I'm kind of wary of is that it's quite easy to over romanticize these traditional lifestyles as a sort of counterpoint to all of the worst aspects of modernity. So I'm trying not to fall into that trap, but it's very hard not to find them slightly magical, right? Doug Still 25:30 Right. In general, is Estonia a religious nation? What's its early relationship with the Christian church? Aliide Naylor 25:39 So nowadays, it's not a very religious nation at all. The region in general - it was basically the last in Europe to Christianize following the northern crusades. And even then, it was suggested that any moves towards Christianization were very surface level, and the Christian practices that were imposed were often integrated into existing belief systems or temporary and abandoned at the first possible opportunity. The Reformation saw a kind of shift towards Lutheranism, specifically in Estonia, around the 16th to the 18th centuries, which is when religious texts started to be translated into the vernacular. And that was when it became apparent how shallowly, I guess, the earlier Christianizing efforts had penetrated. And of course, the Soviet occupation era saw the widespread implementation of anti Christian legislation in line with state atheism policies. So nowadays, Estonians seem to be kind of apathetic towards religion. Only around 6% of all marriages in Estonia actually take place in the church. And I think according to the last census, only around 58% of the population did not express any specific religious affiliation, so not particularly Christian. Doug Still 26:48 So it was one of the last areas of Europe to be Christianized. One person I read about was Henry of Livonia. Who was he? Aliide Naylor 26:57 So Henry of Livonia was a chronicler from the northern crusades. So when the region was being initially - the region was settled by Baltic tribes - such as Livonians, Samogitians, Curonians, Semigallians, Estonians - and they were kind of a loose conglomeration. They weren't the countries Estonia and Latvia as we know them today, but rather these kind of loosely connected tribes. And Henry wasn't really Livonian, but rather, we think a German missionary who recorded the Christianization of the region from a Christian perspective. And I think I recommended Francis Young's book to you, who's a British historian of early modern religion. He's covered Henry's writings about the Baltics in quite a lot of detail. But going back to Henry's work, he basically produced the oldest known written document about the history of Estonia and Latvia, and he noted that converts in what is today Latvia quickly washed off baptismals in the river Daugava and continued their pagan practices. And after Christian fleets left, local pagans cut down Christian idols or dug up their dead from churchyards to burn them. And he also noted that in Estonia, an old cult of the trees proved to be especially difficult to eradicate. I found some work, actually, since we were in Estonia together, even as recently as 1944 there was a National University of Life Sciences sociological study, it suggested that 65% of people in 1990 - this was in 1994 - of people living in Southern Estonia, they believe that trees have souls. So it's been kind of pervasive and ongoing and long term kind of sentiment. Doug Still 28:35 Is this known as animism? Aliide Naylor 28:38 Yeah, and it's not just trees, it's also things like rocks. Rocks are often thought to be imbued with maybe the spirits of ancestors in this region. Doug Still 28:46 The term used to describe a sacred object or place in nature is called a hiis - h-i-i-s. A hiis could be rocks, springs, or other ecological features that have spiritual significance as a natural life force. As Aliide alluded to, embracing pre-Christian pagan ideas has become part of a renewed sense of national identity since the late 19th century. (to Aliide) You had mentioned there was a concept of sacred groves. What are those like? How is that different than a forest or a tree? Aliide Naylor 29:20 They're more like, they can be in forests, or clearings. In the forest, they're sacred natural sites. They can be near villages. Sometimes they can be on hilltops. And yeah, like you said, inside forests, they're not like the whole forest, but they're parts of the forest, and they can vary very widely in terms of size. The older groves are thought to have been used as early as the late bronze age, so around 1500 years BC, and they are revered, and they're historically places where people can't do things like fell trees or pick berries or swear or misbehave. And there's some debate over this. They're thought to have been maybe sacrificial sites. Perhaps graves, places where people might communicate with dead ancestors. But they are generally considered to kind of mark Estonians’ ancient connection with the land. It just to give you an idea of what a grave can be like. There was one that I visited a few years ago that had a board outside that was marked with a traditional eight pointed star, and you were supposed to knock on the board before entering. And then inside there was a clearing which had the remnants of a fire. People had tied ribbons around the trees. And during celebrations, somebody who celebrated there told me that people would leave eggs at the bases of the trees, and I just remember it feeling incredibly peaceful. Doug Still 30:41 So, yeah, that's nice. This is on the island of Saaremaa? Aliide Naylor 30:46 This was actually near Rakvere, so near Tallinn, basically. Doug Still 30:50 So people today can still visit these ancient sacred groves? Aliide Naylor 30:56 Yeah, I mean, they're very publicly accessible woodland in general, like the green spaces in Estonia are generally accessible to the public. Doug Still 31:04 They're marked out. You know when you’re in one. Aliide Naylor 31:08 Depends, but the larger ones, yes. Doug Still 31:12 Are there any specific stories or folk tales that involve trees that hold particular importance? Aliide Naylor 31:19 So in Estonia's national epic poem, the Kalevipoeg, is about a man who travels the earth. You know, he's your typical kind of epic national hero, strong and brave, and it covers his adventures and his dedication to his land and people. Doug Still And what's his name? Aliide Naylor Kalevipoeg. It's like son of Kalev, basically. Doug Still 31:39 The story of Kalevipoeg, spelled K-a-l-e-v-i-p-o-e-g, served as a symbol for the Estonians who were resisting the rule of invaders. Kalevipoeg was not a king or royal knight, but a simple farmer who fought to protect his land. The epic was compiled and published by Friedrich Reinhold Kreutzwald around 1860, and was part of Estonia’s national awakening. It is full of life and magic and fantasy, which makes for an entertaining tale. Aliide Naylor 32:12 There's one part where he summons his troops to an oak forest and delivers a speech there, as he encourages them to go fight. But trees are also very present in several other folk tales. I've got one book of Estonian folk stories, one of which is about a sacred tree that grants favors only for the man it granted them too. And I think this is a common trope in folk tales to become overly demanding, at which point the tree tells him you'll never be content. Your pride will drive you crazy, and the tree turns him and his wife into a bear. But there are lots and lots of tales which feature trees. Of course, that was just a favorite. Doug Still 32:46 Great one. So animism is still a part of the lives of Estonians today in some respect. Aliide Naylor 32:54 It's hard to say how serious it is. You know, Estonia is a highly educated and modern country, and Estonians are pretty realistic and practical people, but there is a widespread desire to celebrate nature and ancient customs and connection to the land. Doug Still 33:10 Are there any specific folk legends about Saaremaa in particular that take place on the island? Aliide Naylor 33:17 So the big local myth in Saaremaa is that of Suur Töll, which is a giant who liked to eat cabbages and protect the people from foreign enemies. So obviously, very large, very strong. Doug Still 33:27 It was easy to be fed if it was just cabbages. Aliide Naylor 33:34 Exactly.I think he did eat fish too. You know, there's a statue on the island of him and his wife carrying a huge crate of fish. Doug Still 33:41 He needs protein. Aliide Naylor 33:42 Of course, the muscles. Yeah, I thought maybe this legend was connected to the reputation of people from Saaremaa - fierce warriors in medieval times, especially against Crusaders. Doug Still 33:53 Like an underwater current, Estonia’s sense of its own culture and identity has continued despite being subsumed by occupying forces for a millenia. Led on by the Northern Crusades, the land we now know as Estonia has been ruled by wave after wave of foreign invaders, including Danes, Swedes, Poles, and Germans. Estonia was part of the Russian Empire for two hundred years, from 1710 to 1917. During my trip I stayed for four nights in the “Old Town” section of Estonia’s capital city of Tallinn. The Old Town is an exceptionally intact historic center dating to the medieval period, and it is absolutely charming by the way. It is completely surrounded by a wall up to 52 feet high and 3 feet thick, and still has 26 of the original 46 defensive towers and lots of gates. The fortification museum is extensive and a really cool place to visit. According to one sign I read, by the 16th century Tallinn could be considered one of the most fortified towns in Northern Europe. They needed it. Defense was a constant concern, though it doesn’t seem to have been very successful. Early in the 20th century, Estonia achieved its first independence in 1918 after fighting a bloody war against Soviet Russia and German forces, with aid from Britain, Finland, and Denmark. A period of national prosperity, it lasted only 22 years, as World War II consumed the small country as it had the rest of Europe. The Soviet Union was deeply concerned with the threat of Germany’s expansion eastward. After the Nazi invasion of Poland in 1939, Germany and the Soviets signed a non-aggression treaty called the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact that put Estonia in the “Soviet sphere.” Moscow demanded military bases in Estonia, which was a pretext for a full takeover in June, 1940. The result of this first occupation was severe repression of the Estonian people through arrests, executions, deportations to Soviet prison camps, and a general climate of terror. The small country was perhaps at its lowest, most difficult point in a long history of oppression. I asked Aliide about the particular role of Saaremaa in the war. (to Aliide) What was the strategic importance of Saaremaa during the war and afterward, what happened on the island? Aliide Naylor 36:37 So, I mean, the islands have been battlegrounds and sites of strategic importance for a long time, and even in World War I Saaremaa was instrumental in military campaigns such as Operation Albion. That was when Germany believed that capturing Estonia's western islands would leave what was then Petrograd - St Petersburg - weak and open to attack. But in World War II, it remained important in terms of control of the Baltic Sea region. So a great deal of the fighting was on a long peninsula on the southwest of the island, and that basically guarded the entrance to the Gulf of Riga. So this peninsula was home to some extremely fierce fighting as the Nazis and Soviets wrestled for control over it. So in 1940 to 1941 the Soviets violently occupied Estonia. They deported civilians, and you saw Kuressaare Castle in the courtyard there [beautiful] a medieval castle, really, really beautiful, and the views from the ramparts really over the bay. It's just, [it's stunning] - stunning - a bit of history. So the Soviets executed and tortured Estonians during the first occupation there in the courtyard. And there are some extremely horrifying and very graphic accounts. And the victims, they were overwhelmingly people connected to the local authorities, schools, and governance so that Soviets could basically install their own puppets. It was just part of their efforts, intense efforts, to eradicate Estonian national culture. Doug Still 38:05 When Nazi Germany took control of Estonia in 1941, things got more complicated. Many Estonians first viewed them as liberators, because anything was better than the brutal Soviet occupation. Many Estonians, Latvians, and Lithuanians joined the German army and fought for the Nazis. But as you can guess, the Germans were not about to give Estonia independence, and began their own version of exploitation and brutal repression. They murdered tens of thousands of people, including Soviet prisoners, ethnic Estonians, Romani people, and about 1,000 Estonian Jews. Another 10,000 Jews from other parts of Europe were sent to Estonian labor camps as well, where most perished. Fast forward to September, 1944 when the Soviets retook Estonia from the retreating Nazis. They were back, as ruthless as before. There was a mass exodus of refugees, with tens of thousands of people fleeing by boat, train, or any means necessary. As described in the Occupation Museum in Tallinn which had an example of a boat they would have taken to sea,, many people died trying to escape the Red Army. Many of the refugees who survived made it to Germany and Sweden, some eventually relocating to other countries never to return. Aliide herself had a story about her grandmother. Aliide Naylor 39:33 So my mother's side is from Saaremaa, and my grandmother was born on the island, but she was actually based in Tallinn in the 1940s. She escaped on top of a train and ultimately ended up in an UNRRA, which is the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration camp in the British sector of Germany. And her family, so her siblings and their kids, they took boats from Saaremaa to Sweden, and I remember one talking about how the mast collapsed on her ship during the stormy night crossing, which sounded extremely harrowing. Doug Still 40:05 Thank you for answering that. Aliide Naylor It's okay. Doug Still When the Soviets returned, a chief directive was to root out anyone who had fought against them the last three years, or anyone part of the current resistance. Where were they to hide? A mythic story developed. (to Aliide) Who were the Forest Brothers? Aliide Naylor 40:26 So the second Soviet occupation saw resistance in the form of guerrilla forces, but simultaneous intensifying crackdowns at the Soviet end to assert Moscow's authority over the Baltics. And the Forest Brothers, they were basically these partisan movements that emerged in each Baltic state. So they were essentially called the Forest Brothers in Latvia and in Estonia and in Lithuania. And they were armed resistance movements who were in operation from around 1944 to 1953. In Estonia, they totaled somewhere between 10,000 to 16,000 - the most often cited figure I see is 14,000 to 15,000. And yeah, the forest was historically seen as a place of safety. People hid. Hid in the forest during the crusades too, I understand. Doug Still 41:14 I see, so there's a long history of hiding in the forest. Aliide Naylor 41:17 Yeah, and just knowing the region, knowing the terrain, lots of parts of the Baltics are quite swampy, so knowing which parts of the terrain are dangerous and which parts aren't gives the locals a huge advantage. Doug Still And who were they? Aliide Naylor Well, they were this guerrilla resistance, essentially against the Soviets, who were trying to brutally eradicate them. And they were largely eradicated by the mid 1950s. They were composed of former intellectuals, farmers, policemen, military personnel, and they were aiming to restore the hard won independence of their respective countries. And they had the support of the local population, who usually helped to hide them and ensured they had an ongoing supply of food or information. Doug Still 41:59 So they were local. They were Estonians. Aliide Naylor 42:03 They were just Estonians, right. People who were patriots who didn't want foreign invaders basically taking over their country. And so across the Baltics, they were around 50,000 I believe, in total. Doug Still 42:18 Wow. How did they survive in the forest? Aliide Naylor 42:21 Locals could help them. Maybe they'd bring them food or information. Doug Still 42:25 People were helping them. Aliide Naylor 42:29 Yeah, they were. exactly. And they could maybe dig - they were digging trenches. They were actively fighting against Soviet occupation forces and the Red Army. Maybe there were others who were less active, who would distribute leaflets and raise national flags. But also the myth was just really important as a symbol of hope for people in the Baltic states, and that kind of persisted through the rest of the Soviet occupation too. Doug Still 42:50 The myth of the forest Brothers has had a powerful effect on people of Estonia. Aliide Naylor 42:57 Yeah. It provided hope, and it continues even today. I mean, I think I mentioned this to you in Saaremaa a bit. I was at the Song Festival, which happens every five years in Estonia. It's a big national gathering of people who come together and sing national songs. And in addition to the program songs, in between them, the people would break out into kind of a cappella versions of other songs, one of them being a Forest Brothers song that, I think it captured the spirit of the time. You know, it was quite... it was basically suggesting that they would refuse to live on their knees and serve Russians. And it seemed quite a powerful, quite a powerful sentiment, given the situation today. Doug Still 43:36 Does everybody know the Forest Brothers song? Speaker 2 43:55 Everyone there did. [Music - "Metsavendade laul (sõnadega) - Forest Brothers' Song," Untsakad] Doug Still 44:17 When Aliide and I sat at Heiki Hanso’s kitchen table to interview him, he surprised us with an incredible bit of information. (to Heiki) Now, you mentioned that there's some family history. Heiki Hanso 44:28 My grandfather was one of the forest brothers. [Theme music] Doug Still 44:33 Grab a tissue. When we come back from a short break, he tells the story of his grandfather, the Forest Brother. And then we'll learn what he did to turn the Stadium Oak into a national icon. This is This Old Tree. [Music - "Ma vaatan paadist kiikriga," Boris Lehtlaan] Heiki Hanso 45:12 Yeah, it happened so my grandfather was in.. was it maybe May, 1944… when he heard the group of Soviet soldiers come to his work in Tallinn. He was working in some telegraph, some engineer, something. And he heard in a corridor his name was shouted out. And then he managed to run to the basement and scroll over the coal piles to this small window, and managed to get away through this. And then he walked just under 200 kilometers from Tallinn to Pärnu, where his home was. Then he managed to join some other people who were hiding in the forest for three years. He was captured by a traitor in their village three years later. So he was captured, and he had a hiding spot in the barn, like double walls. But somebody knew where he was hiding, and he was given up. Doug Still 46:32 Word had got ‘round that the Soviet soldiers were not only arresting people but looting all they could. Young and married with two small children, Heike’s grandfather thought of the possession most important to him in that desperate moment. Heiki Hanso 46:47 When he was arrested, he was wearing his golden wedding ring. The Soviets, they robbed all the people and took all the valuables. He was hands behind, tied behind back, he was sitting in the corner of the barn. So he managed to put his hands together and get this ring off his finger. And then he hid in the dirt behind where he was sitting, behind him. Doug Still 47:23 He was sitting, and he just dug a little hole and put the ring there. Heiki Hanso That's correct, yes. Doug Still And what happened to him? Heiki Hanso 47:30 Well, he was arrested and then taken to the most - what it was called - hard labor camp, maybe in Kazakhstan [Kazakhstan] Kazakhstan, yeah. And then he was there, I think, for five, six years. And then, I think after Stalin died, 1953, some of the political prisoners were let out from the prison. But they [had to] serve 25 plus five years, so they was not let to the home country back. So they had to sort of stay there to serve Soviet Union. Doug Still 48:24 When his wife learned that he was out of prison, but not free to leave, she and the children went to be with him in Kazakhstan. Heiki Hanso 48:31 Our grandmother went after he was released from the prison. Our grandmother went with my uncle and aunt - one week by trains and stuff - to stay there in Kazakhstan with my grandfather for, I think, for two years. And then they was released, and they had the permission to go back to Estonia. [wow] So every year, some of them political prisoners, they started to get permission to go back. Doug Still 49:08 So they got away. When did he come back? Heiki Hanso 49:12 I think it was maybe ‘56, yeah. Doug Still 49:16 When he finally got home to Estonia, Heiki’s grandfather went straight to the barn. Heiki Hanso 49:22 So after years he returned, he managed to find his ring and [wow], yeah, it's a great story to remember. Doug Still 49:34 That’s a great story. Heiki's father was born a few years afterward. The story, and the appreciation for freedom, remains in the family. Sixty-five years and two generations later, the Stadium Oak of Orissaare had a contest to win. The drama doesn’t equal the weight of what happened during the war era, but nonetheless it carries a bit of that history with it. Like Heiki’s grandfather, the tree had resisted the Soviets and survived. As an arborist and an Orisaaran, Heiki knew he was the one to share the story with the rest of Estonia and beyond. The European Tree of the Year contest was the opportunity to do that. It’s an annual voting competition organized by the Environmental Partnership Association, an international consortium of six foundations from eastern Europe that support community projects to protect the environment and support local communities and society. Based in the Czech Republic, the nonprofit invites countries to nominate one tree each to pit against others in an annual contest. Mainly, it’s a chance to celebrate trees and share their stories. Heiki Hanso 50:51 Normally, before the candidate goes to the European Tree of the Year contest, inside the country there is also an election. That winner is going to represent the country, then, in the European [contest]. Aliide Naylor 51:05 But in this case, it was different. Heiki Hanso 51:09 Yes, as the timetable of the program was already past that moment that we could have time to do the Estonian competition first. Doug Still 51:23 So luckily, Heiki and his company were allowed to nominate the tree on behalf of Estonia, without a national competition. They were in, but they had work to do. They suddenly had to figure out how to get people to vote for the tree online. It wasn’t easy. Heiki Hanso 51:39 Yeah, me and my buddy, we did it together, Hannes. I want to say thanks to him. Also, he was the IT support those days. Doug Still IT support. Heiki Hanso Well, yeah, definitely. Within the 10 years of this last decade, social media and the IT stuff has obviously made a huge step since 10 years ago. It was different, but possible. So Hannes was reporting with all these… how to get this information around and contacting people and… Doug Still 52:19 Right, because you had to get out the vote. Heiki Hanso Yeah. Doug Still How did you get out the vote? Heiki Hanso 52:25 Well, actually, as you see, looking around, we have many trees in Estonia, and the tree is very common. It was very hard to, sort of, get people attached to the idea. Even the voting is really easy in the European Tree of the Year contest. It maybe takes like, 10 or 15 seconds. But lots of people just won't bother. Doug Still 52:53 Because here they're like, “We have trees everywhere. Why do we care about another tree?” Heiki Hanso 52:57 And obviously the Estonian population is only like 1.3 million. So compared to the huge, large countries - UK, Poland, Germany, Belgium - they have 10s of millions of people instead. Some successful campaign would already make a huge difference, as you see nowadays. Doug Still 53:20 Their social media presence brought some votes, but it wasn’t nearly enough. With one week left, they were behind. Heiki Hanso 53:28 The contest is going one month. You can vote for three weeks. It used to be so that you could see how many votes any tree contestant has, but the last week was blind week. We had it so that you couldn't see anybody's score, which made it really stressful. Of course, nobody knew how is the other doing, and what kind of secret weapons they have in the back pocket, you know, to get the scores up or the initiatives up. Then, obviously, I was also really anxious or in agony. I wanted to obviously do the best. Doug Still 54:14 It didn't help that it was a national holiday. Heiki Hanso 54:20 It was 2015, Estonian Independence Day, the 24th of February. All the buildings, supermarkets, they were closed. So, the end of February was the whole contest. And then I thought, there must be, I must do something. Doug Still 54:39 Then Heike struck upon an idea. Heiki Hanso 54:42 I was in Tallinn in my garage, and then I had some bits and pieces and plywood and paint and some stuff. And I thought, okay, I want to get attention. And then I started. I invited some friends. We built the trolley, which is sort of like a copy of the stadium with the oak on top. Doug Still 55:06 With wood and materials he had on hand at his work place in Tallinn, they built a replica of the Orisaare Stadium on a pull cart. It had a mini oak tree in the middle of it, the Stadium Oak. He wheeled it out into the street. Heiki Hanso 55:20 So I started to walk from Tallinn to Saaremaa to get this oak tree some attention. Doug Still 55:27 How many kilometers is that? Heiki Hanso 55:29 It's about 200. Doug Still 55:31 So you walked 200 kilometers… Heiki Hanso 55:34 …pulling a tree on it two and a half days. And then my ankles were already, like, really swollen up because I never had done such heavy duty hardcore stuff, pulling this trolley behind me. Doug Still 55:52 That is dedication that makes me want to go back and vote for you! People drove by and honked and wanted to know what was going on, but that wasn't all. (to Heiki) Now, you mentioned something that happened that put it over the top and got all the votes to come in, I believe. Heiki Hanso 56:08 During this walk, we made a live broadcast that had a GoPro camera attached to the trolley, which had a battery and live stream to YouTube. So the information starts spreading. We got more viewers, more viewers, and then social media, and then our president, Thomas Hendrik Ilves, noticed this and then he made a post on his Facebook. Doug Still 56:40 Toomas Hendrik Ilves, the President of Estonia in 2015, got involved himself. Heiki Hanso 56:46 And I think that made, that was the decider. After that, all the VIPs and celebrities, they started to share this information, because it was something, like, unique, to be honest. It was a unique thing. Doug Still 57:05 You pulled this trolley. It got on the news and [yeah] the President of Estonia saw it [yeah] and he posted it [yeah]. And suddenly the whole country was behind you. Heiki Hanso 57:16 Not the whole country, but…[laughter] Doug Still 57:21 …the tree loving part of the country [yeah]. That's amazing. And then it won. Heiki Hanso 57:29 It did indeed. 2015 Tree of the Year. Doug Still 57:35 The tree’s story, along with all the history it represented, had struck a chord with modern Estonians. And from people across Europe and around the world. Aliide Naylor 57:44 Do you know if you had any supporters outside of Estonia? Heiki Hanso 57:46 Yes, we had votes from Japan, from New Zealand, from Australia, from all over Canada, the US, yeah. Doug Still 57:55 Heiki and his buddy Hannes accepted the award at a formal ceremony in The Hague with representatives of the EU Parliament and the news media present. Heiki Hanso 58:06 And there was obviously all these countries together who participated in Europe. A very smart evening. Doug Still 58:17 You got dressed up? Heiki Hanso 58:19 Of course. And it was my birthday, the 21st of April. So it was the best birthday present ever, I think, I got in my life. That these kind of emotions and feelings, and heavy, heavy work paid off. Aliide Naylor 58:35 That's great. I remember you saying it was one of the greatest achievements of your life. Like, how did you feel in that moment? Heiki Hanso 58:43 I think it was definitely - I think it still is, and it might be forever - my best achievement, achievement could be. Doug Still 58:54 What does the Stadium Oak mean to you personally? Heiki Hanso 58:58 That's the tree of my life. I think it will be. I've been climbing 1000s and 1000s of trees, I think, but definitely, that's my, that's my tree. Doug Still 59:13 Thank you so much. The award and the news coverage changed things back in Orissaare for a while. Just ask Andla. Andla Rüütel 59:22 But after this competition it was so that, two, three, maybe five years was so, that every summer, we are making some interviews from the BBC or from German newspapers. This big competition was actually quite good to Orissaare tourism. Doug Still 59:55 Andla shared a poignant view of trees and forests. Andla Rüütel 59:59 I love the forest, yeah, and I think most of Estonians really love the forest. We have no fear about it. And when we have mental breakdowns or mental problems, the first place where we are going is the forest. When I have a bad day, then I have to go in the forest. And then I go, I just walk down with my dog, and it's so that it’s the first place where I am going. The head is full of thoughts, and it's like [makes a sound and gesture describing thoughts whooshing out of her head). And I think I am not the only one. It's normal for Estonians. Aliide Naylor Thanks, I think so too. Doug Still 1:00:53 And as for Aliide, meeting and traveling withe her is something I won’t soon forget. She is part of the Estonian diaspora. [Theme music] (to Aliide) Well, so great to see you again. Thanks so much for sharing this story and sharing your research. Aliide Naylor 1:01:10 Thank you for being interested in it. Your enthusiasm was, when we were on the island, it was very infectious. So I really appreciated taking you around, too. Doug Still 1:01:18 Yeah, and I really look forward to the book. Thank you. Aliide Naylor Thanks so much. Doug Still The Stadium Oak still stands today, a hiis that symbolizes strength and perseverance. Its story has a warning to it, but also a trolley full of hope. [music - "Isegi unes," Stig Rästa] Outro 1:01:50 Thank you so much for listening, tree lovers, I hope you enjoyed the story. And thanks to ALL the people I met in Estonia who were so kind, especially Heiki Hanso and Andla Ruutel who spoke about the Stadium Oak and shared their histories. You both were so generous. A special thanks to Aliide Naylor, without whom this episode would never have happened. Links to her book and other references are in the show notes. Martha Douglas-Osmundson provided the voice-over for Andla. Information about the traditional songs we played are in the show notes, and you’re currently listening to music by Stig Rasta. Theme music is by Dee Lee. Visit the show website at thisoldtree.show, transcripts will become available. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram to see photos and get hints about what’s coming next. The podcast is now a sponsored project of the New England Chapter of the International Society of Arboriculture. Visit newenglandisa.org to learn more about this great organization. Thanks again for listening. I’m Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. This Old Tree with Doug Still
The General Sherman Tree: First Encounters - Transcript Season 3, Episode 3 October 27, 2025 Doug Still 00:00 You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still. [sound of feet walking on icy snow] Holy moly. Look at that. Unbelievable…… [guitar music] Doug Still 00:34 Yes, that was me last March, turning the corner on an icy path as the General Sherman tree came into view. It's a giant sequoia in Sequoia National Park in California, and it happens to be the largest tree in the world by volume. A park ranger might tell you it's as high as a 28 story building and as wide as a swimming pool. There are other giant sequoias nearby too, in a magnificent grove called the “Giant Forest.” Possibly two million people visit every year. Seeing the tree in person is an awe inspiring experience, especially the first time. I couldn't help wondering, who were the first people to lay eyes on the Giant Forest? What stories live on about when they turn that proverbial corner into this very special place on Earth? To find the history, I interviewed William C. Tweed, the retired Chief Naturalist who has spent more than 40 years researching, speaking, and writing about the giant sequoias. As he says, the trees and their stories tell us as much about us and how we view nature as they do about the sequoias themselves. We'll get introduced to some giant sequoia biology along the way. [theme music] So come along to hear about the General Sherman tree. I'm Doug still, and this is This Old Tree. [dreamy music] Doug Still 02:35 The drive toward the entrance of Sequoia National Park is kind of like an early scene from the movie King Kong. At least, that was the feeling I had after I left my hotel in the small city of Visalia and motored east across the flat San Joaquin Valley. Miles and miles of orange trees framed my view, their branches sagging with fruit, oranges littering the ground. (It was astonishing really, as an easterner I had to pull over and snap some pictures of the citrus groves). But on the horizon, rising like an insurmountable, green wall with snow on top, was the Sierra Nevada mountain range. I thought, “I’m heading up there, because up there is where the giant sequoias are.” It reminded me of King Kong, when the ship anchors off an island the bad guys want to exploit. The camera scans the imposing landscape from afar, and with anticipation the audience knows there’s a giant ape in there that’s going to astound them, and cause these dudes trouble when they mess with him. My journey was a bit less dramatic, but the feeling was the same, because the star attraction up in the mountains before me was the wonderful old Kong of trees, the General Sherman Tree. The plains gave way to foothills, and a curvy drive around Lake Kaweah. I passed seasonal lodges and tourist stops in the town of Three Rivers, then followed the Kaweah River gradually upward. I eventually pulled alongside the park entrance station to pay my fee. Several hundred yards ahead was a scenic pulloff that contains the iconic wooden Sequoia National Park sign from 1935. It displays the image of a generic American Indian face but not a local one, a stereotype which the park acknowledges. Park history is complicated and not always flattering. But the early history of human interaction with giant sequoias is also inspirational, leading the way toward a national conservation ethic. It’s an American story worth telling. I could think of no one better to talk to about the General Sherman Tree and the giant sequoias than William C. Tweed. Tweed, as he signs his emails, is the author of King Sequoia: The Tree That Inspired a Nation, Created Our National Park System, and Changed the Way We Think of Nature. While with the National Park Service, he also co-wrote the seminal history of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks called Challenge of the Big Trees. Regarding the General Sherman tree itself, perhaps no one has spent more hours standing next to it than William Tweed as a young park ranger, describing it to countless visitors every summer. (to William C. Tweed) William, welcome. Thank you so much for joining me today to talk about the incredible General Sherman tree and Giant Sequoias in general, I've enjoyed reading your books so much, especially King Sequoia. It's full of great and well researched true stories about the discovery of the Giant Sequoias by European settlers. And you also describe how these big trees shift the way Americans think about nature, which is part of the book's title, I'd say, not only in the late 19th and early early 20th century, but even now. So thank you for writing William C. Tweed 06:13 it. Well, every author is happy when his book gets read. So thank you for reading it. There's so much good material about giant sequoias that we have lots to talk about today. Doug Still 06:24 Where does the title King Sequoia come from? William C. Tweed 06:29 King Sequoia? I stole it. All good titles are stolen, right? I stole it from John Muir. Muir wrote a great deal about sequoias. He was quite enamored of sequoia trees, as many have been since. And I saw that in one of his early writings, and I said, “How could I not use that?” That's the key. It's just the perfect phrase to grab attention about giant sequoia trees. He used it, and I stole it, and I happily attribute it to Muir. Doug Still 06:53 Let's start, let's describe the location and setting for listeners around the country and from around the world who have never had the chance to visit Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. Where is this particular grove of giant sequoias? And ecologically, why are they there? William C. Tweed 07:14 That's a big question, and let's try to focus on it in an intelligent way. The giant sequoia trees naturally are found only in the southern Sierra or Sierra Nevada of California. Sierra Nevada is a big mountain range. It rises from almost sea level at the west to over 14,000 feet. The highest point in the 48 states is in the Sierra Nevada. In fact, it's in Sequoia Park - Mount Whitney, 14,500 feet. It has within it, as you'd expect for a mountain range of that height, an enormous variety of environments. The Giant Sequoias occupy a portion of one of those environments. As you go up in the Sierra, it cools off, it gets wetter. The difference between the bottom and the top is astounding. If you're talking sea level, the bottom is in the deserts of the southwest and the north - the top of the Sierras in Alaska - it's tundra. Everything in between is in the Sierra, and the giant sequoias are part of a belt of huge trees besides sequoias that grow between about five and 8000 feet in the Sierra. We tend to call it a mixed conifer forest, because it has a dozen different species of trees. All of them grow big in one way or another, but within that, in certain places, are giant sequoia trees. We call these places groves. There's no single definition. It sort of comes down to the fact that a grove is a place with sequoias surrounded by country where there's not sequoias. And there are, roughly, you could argue about whether you lump or split, about 75 groves. There are about a dozen really big groves, and the giant forest is one of the bigger grows, not the biggest by acreage, not the biggest by the number of sequoia trees, but it is the most significant in terms of what makes sequoias special, which is, of course, size. Giant sequoias are bigger in the Giant Forest than anywhere else, and out of the top 10 trees, half of that top 10 are in the Giant Forest. It's the special place, and the biggest of them all is the General Sherman tree. Why are they there? You asked a big question. I got to give you a couple pieces to this. Why are they there? Sequoias have interesting needs. Every plant has certain needs, and so sequoias are not unique in that at all. But you have to understand a plant. You have to understand what it's looking for. Judging from the limited range of the giant sequoia, you have to assume that it has some rather specific needs, and it certainly does. It needs lots of moisture. It's a water loving tree. Of the Sierra and conifers, it is the most water dependent. Needs more water than any other tree. It also needs lots of sunshine, because that's where the energy comes to grow really big things. And additionally, it doesn't like cold. Now you're going to say you visited the trees in the snow. This is a maritime mountain range. You know, you work out of Rhode Island, and once in a while, the wind blows from the northwest, right? And it gets really cold. The Sierra doesn't do that. The Sierra is a maritime mountain range, and so it snows a lot, but it snows a lot around the freezing point in the range where the trees grow. So it's not a cold place - it may feel cold, but it's not a cold place in the biological sense. So the Sierra is the place for giant sequoia trees. The foothills and the lowlands are too dry, the upper altitudes are too cold, but in between, there's a zone that is use the old cliche just right. Doug Still 11:10 Now they're mainly on the western slopes, right? Or the western side of the mountains. Why is that? William C. Tweed 11:16 The Sierra is a rain shadow, a rain shadow mountain range. The water comes from the west, from the ocean, and it hits the Sierra Nevada. When you have a mountain range as high as the Sierra, it takes an enormous amount of water out of the sky. It's no accident that the 500 miles east of the Sierra Nevada constitute the driest place, the driest state in the United States, Nevada. Nevada is the rain shadow of the Sierra Nevada. Lless than 100 miles due east of Mount Whitney, is Death Valley, the driest place in the United States. [Amazing.] They are perfectly connected in the sense of weather and topography. Doug Still 12:02 So, some basic biology. Why are they so big, and how do they live so long? William C. Tweed 12:09 Why are they so big and old? I'll give you an interpretation I worked out in my many years as a park ranger. Every living organism from the biological point of view, has a goal, and that goal is to have its genes survive. The things, the organisms whose genes do not survive are not here. They're gone, they're dead. They're extinct, if they ever existed at all. Everything has to survive. Every organism has built into it some strategy for survival. I propose that to understand giant sequoia trees, you need to contrast them with mosquitoes, [okay] and my contrast sounds something like this. Among this one strategy for survival is to be small and fragile and no deposit, no return, a throwaway organism that you produce in enormous numbers: mosquitoes. We spent a lot of time trying to get rid of mosquitoes. We’re never fully surprised - how much damage do you do to this mosquito species when you destroy a mosquito? None whatsoever, right? I think you can tell where I am going. The sequoia is the extreme opposite example. It is this huge, is an organism with a huge investment in a single tree. You build it for a couple of 1000 years. It's designed, as we'll explore, to survive all these different challenges. So it's as far from no deposit, no return as you can get in the biological world. It's a highly, long lived, slowly reproducing, heavily armored organism. Doug Still 14:01 But with the same same ultimate goal as a mosquito, which is to reproduce. William C. Tweed 14:06 Yes, to survive. It's all about survival. How does the tree achieve survival? Now we get down to its specific adaptations. The sequoia has a number of adaptations that work very well in its native range. And to understand them, you have to understand what kills trees. Besides people, we look at what naturally kills trees. The biggest flaw with trees in most species is that, as you know so well, in almost all traditional tree species only the couple inches beneath the bark is truly alive in terms of wood, right? I have sapwood and heartwood. And the longer a tree lives, the more dead heartwood it accumulates, because the tree keeps putting on new layers of live wood just beneath the bark. It's putting on new bark, pushing it outward, too at the same time. And so if a tree is going to live a long time, it's going to accumulate a great deal of dead heartwood. And dead heartwood is subject to decay. And when a tree decays enough, it loses its structural integrity and it collapses. So how do you prevent Heartwood from decaying? Giant sequoias have mastered that art. There are only a couple basic solutions. I used to say you could look in your kitchen and come up with most of them, because the challenge of the decay of organic material is what we face every day in our kitchens. We don't want our food to rot, and so we do primarily three different things: we refrigerate it, or we dry it, or we treat it with chemicals, and that's how we prevent organic material from decay. And the giant sequoia has pondered, in its own animate way, all of those options, and settles mostly on, guess what? Chemicals. The chemicals are called tannins. They are strong decay preventatives. They're organic acids. They are found in a number of trees, but in no trees, more obviously than in giant sequoias. And so tannins are found throughout the world. The giant sequoia literally manufactures so much tannin that it pickles its heartwood in tannin interestingly, and it makes the wood very decay resistant. But the primary thing a giant sequoia does is its center does not decay. If the center does not decay, then what about those other things that get trees? Insects get trees, but the sequoia, the tannins the sequoia uses are also pretty good insect repellents. And so sequoias are seldom - not never - but they are seldom killed and even seldom damaged to a significant degree by insects. It's rare. And then, of course, you come to the issue of fire. Giant sequoias grow best in a Mediterranean climate at altitude. Mediterranean means wet winters and dry summers. The second part of the summer is very dry, and there's usually little or no precipitatio, and that leads to fire. And the giant sequoias have long since learned, over a very long period, to live with and survive fire. And they are not fire proof, they're made of wood. But after all, they are highly fire resistant. They have a thick bark with tannin that does not burn very well, and the hardwood is full of tannin, which does not burn very well. We understand from a lot of scientific study that the average giant sequoia tree, including our General Sherman, prior to the arrival of Euro Americans in the groves, probably was exposed to fire every 10, 15, or 20 years over and over and over again. That implies, by the way, that the fires were not terribly intense, because if you burn that often, there's not an enormous amount to burn. Doug Still 18:11 Lower level ground fires. William C. Tweed 18:13 Lower level ground fires usually, and the average mature sequoia tree may have been through 100 fires, 200 fires. We have cross sections that will show fire scars of dozens and dozens and dozens of fires, inspecting a single tree, and the tree goes right on growing. One more piece to this puzzle, the giant sequoia is a sun loving tree. Again, as an arborist, you know very well, some trees, some plants, are shade tolerant, some are not. The giant sequoia is not shade tolerant to any degree at all. It's a huge challenge in its youth, and therefore it has one more critical trait. It grows as tall as it can, as fast as it can when it's young. It often grows, once it gets established, a foot or two every year for a couple centuries. When you grow at that rate, you get pretty tall, pretty fast. There are lots of giant sequoia trees between one and two centuries old that are between 100-200 feet tall. There's no need to be infinitely tall. And there are disadvantages to being infinitely tall after a certain point, it's just trouble. What you do need to do to be a long lived tree is to get above everything else, which - that's exactly what they do. And then here you are. Here's how a giant sequoia tree reaches longevity. And if you are long lived and fast growing, you end up being big. Doug Still 19:50 Right, right, but you have to have the right conditions in order to meet all of those requirements. William C. Tweed 19:55 Exactly. All those are reflected, are adaptations to a particular environment, and so the sequoia does very well in its home setting. Doug Still 20:05 The last Ice Age drastically reduced the range of the giant sequoias. But in this perfect location, high up on the western side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the General Sherman tree has thrived for an estimated 2,200 years, not an easy place for people to get to or to live. We're going to take a short break. When we come back, we'll look at what we know about the first peoples to know the biggest tree in the world and the Giant Grove: two indigenous tribes called the Monache and the Yokuts. Then we'll meet the first recorded white settler to venture into the Giant Grove. Not a forester, trapper or prospector, but strangely enough, a rancher. What was he doing up there? [theme music] You're listening to This Old Tree. Doug Still 21:02 I asked William about the earliest human interactions with the giant sequoias, and he made it clear that their “discovery” depends entirely on who you are talking about. William C. Tweed 21:15 Of course, we have to say the obvious. When we're talking “discovery,” we're talking about discovery by Euro Americans, not the people who had lived there in and amongst the trees for 1,000s of years. We wish we knew more. Those people still exist. But we don't have good sequoia trees from the local Native American - good sequoia stories, I should say, from the local Native American peoples. We know that the Yokuts and Monache people who lived there saw all and still see all the different life forms as animate objects, fellow occupants on this earth, an attitude we could do well to understand more completely, I think, and maybe absorb a little more completely. Doug Still 21:55 While indigenous stories about sequoias are few, William includes an excellent chapter about Native Americans living in the lower Sierra Nevada mountains prior to Euro-American arrival in his book Challenge of the Big Trees. So, the following summary is entirely from his book and is his work. I find it so interesting and important. Archaeological evidence is limited, by the early 1800s it’s clear that two distinct groups inhabited this region, which he mentioned. The Monache, or Western Mono, occupied territory from the high mountains down to the western foothills. Below them lived the Yokuts, who made their home in the lower foothills and across the entire Central Valley. They spoke very different languages. Today, descendents of these tribes live on the federally recognized Tule River Reservation in Tulare County, made up of Yokuts, Yowlumne, Wukchumni, Western Mono, and Tübatulabal. And forgive my pronunciations. Here's where it gets interesting: the Monache language closely resembles that of the Owens Valley Paiute, also called Eastern Mono, who are from the desert east of the Sierra Nevada. These desert dwellers survived on gathered seeds, fish, and game. They ventured into the eastern slopes of the Sierra to find one particularly crucial food, pinyon pine nuts. The mountains also provided an escape from the brutal desert heat. A few Eastern Mono groups eventually began wintering on the west side of the mountains. The exact reason is lost to history, but they maintained their traditional pattern—encamping at lower elevations during winter, but venturing into higher altitudes during summer when the snow melted. Importantly, they didn't displace the more numerous Yokuts. Instead, they established a line of winter villages along the middle slopes, some within the current area of Sequoia National Park. This westward move brought dietary changes. Acorn meal from various oak species, especially black oak, replaced pinyon nuts as the staple food. By the time Europeans arrived, the Western Mono had organized into about six bands, three of which—the Wobonuch, Wuksachi, and Potwisha—lived in what's now Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park. The Potwisha became the best-known band in the region. Their largest village was Hospital Rock, situated at 2,700 feet along the Kaweah River's middle fork. It was ideally positioned among oaks and rivers. A natural cave beneath a boulder provided additional shelter. Trade flourished up in the mountains along traditional foot paths connecting East and West Mono. They traded goods with the Yokuts as well. Perhaps most significantly for our understanding of wilderness, these peoples actively altered the landscape through burning. They used fire to encourage game forage, promote valuable plant growth, and increase visibility. Ironically, these frequent fires benefitted the giant sequoias themselves. William astutely writes that when Europeans first arrived, they assumed they saw a virgin, primeval landscape. What they were actually viewing was an ecosystem influenced by humans, people who considered themselves inseparable from the natural world. I’m projecting, but I don’t think it’s out of reach to picture the East and West Monache meeting in summer, high up in the Sierra within the shade of the great giant sequoia groves. At the very least, the big trees would be waypoints for their journey. And what a journey it is, here’s more of what I found. [dreamy music] Doug Still 25:59 The drive up into the mountains from the Foothills Visitors Center was spectacular. Luckily the main road - General’s Highway - was open despite the snow up at higher elevation. Only a couple major trails were open. I picked an iffy time to visit. The park ranger suggested hikers wear cleats on their shoes, which I laughed off. There was no snow where we were. I shouldn’t have, more on that later. Starting at 1,700 feet, the road soon became a series of curves and switchbacks. With wonder at the surroundings, I took the steep climb slowly. In the off-season not too many cars stacked up behind me. Generally, I drive like a grandpa anyway, I’m told. Western redbuds were blooming, and I pulled over at a couple scenic overlooks to take pictures of the dramatic landscape. Green forested valleys with intermittent meadows foregrounded rising mountain tops and granite domes. It was worth the price of admission right there, and I was only just entering the vast, 1,300 square miles that make up Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks, the largest contiguous wilderness in the lower 48 states. By the time I approached 5,000 feet, things began to change. There was snow on the ground. The composition of the forest shifted to conifers. No sequoias yet, but I started seeing swaths of burned trees. Acres and acres of dead trees on both sides of the road. This was a result of the 2021 KNP Complex Fire, when two separate fires - the Paradise and Colony fires - combined to burn 88,000 acres over a three month period. It was a severe fire, not a low level ground fire like William Tweed talked about. It was sparked by a lightning strike - yes - but it turned into an inferno as a result of high winds, a year of record-breaking drought, and the buildup of fuel on the forest floor due to 120 years of fire suppression. It reached the western edge of the Giant Grove, but the Grove itself was spared thanks to extra efforts by firefighters. Worried park managers even wrapped the base of the General Sherman tree in protective foil, along with a number of the other largest trees. After driving through the worst of the forest fire zone, I started seeing the giant sequoias. Oh my god, you cannot mistake them. The trunks were massive cylinders among their more pole-like companion species - white fir, sugar pine, incense cedar, red fir, and ponderosa pine. The warm, reddish-brown bark really stood out against the snow. These here on the outskirts of the Giant Grove were affected by the fires. Some were killed. Others lived, but sported black, archway shaped burn marks at their bases. Treacherously, I pulled over and snapped a few photos of these first sequoias. I continued on, past four huge trees all in a row and framing the road. They had singe marks on them too. These were the “Four Guardsmen” sequoias that form a natural entranceway into the Giant Grove. I drove on through. William C. Tweed 29:32 But the story of our own people in these forests begins like so many stories in California, with the gold rush. When California went from being a colonial backwater with a handful of Europeans along the coast to a destination being literally inundated with immigrants from all over the world. You know, in the early 1850s a couple 100,000 people invaded California, looking for immediate, instant wealth. And they wandered all over the landscape seeing what they could find. They were looking for gold, but not only for gold, because the world of gold mining generated a need for foodstuffs and lumber and all the rest of that what we need to live, right? So everybody was trying to make a living in California and get rich as fast as they could. People scattered across the state and explored it very quickly. The region that now is Sequoia National Park, the western half of the park is the watershed of the Kaweah River, and the first Euro American to enter the Kaweah River was a fellow named Hale Tharp. He arrived in the middle 1850s. He quickly connected with the local people, the Yokuts and Monaches of the foothills, particularly the Monaches. They told him about the huge forests up on the mountains above where he settled, and he intended to be and become a cattle rancher. He was growing basically beef to feed the growing cities and mining towns of California, everything from San Francisco to Angels Camp. All the places where the new California was suddenly blossoming out of nowhere, a lot of hungry people. So cattle ranching was how it started. Tharp, however, discovered the truism of the southern Sierra Nevada, that is in the summer the low country gets very hot and dry. And that up in the mountains at altitude - remember, I was talking about life zones and all that - it gets cooler and wetter as you go up. There were summer pastures in the mountains, and that's what took him up. The Native Americans guided him, and he discovered in - this was in 1856 - he was taken for the first time up to, from almost from a couple 100 feet altitude, up to 6000 feet to the Giant Forest. And he discovered big green meadows and around them, incidentally, big red trees. He was curious about the big trees, but he was trying to make a living as a cattle rancher. And he began in the next few years taking cattle up and grazed the area. Well, Tharpe and his descendants were in the Giant Forest up until about 1920, even after the park was established. They took control of the meadows. And so that was how the story starts. And the first use of the giant forest was as cow pasture. Doug Still 32:33 Hale Tharp gave a first person account of his early years in the area to a park ranger named Walter Fry in 1910, who wrote it all down. Fry later became Park Magistrate and published his conversation with Tharp in a park bulletin in 1924 and 25. The words you're about to hear are those of Hale Tharp conveyed by Walter Fry. Hale Tharp reading 33:01 "I made my first trip to the Hospital Rock camp during the summer of 1858. Chief Chappo and I had become the very best of friends and he asked me to come up and stay with him overnight. He sent down two young Indian men to pilot me in, as there were no trails in the country, just Indian foot-paths. I went in on horse-back and it took me about 8 hours to work my way in, the distance being about 18 miles from my Three Rivers ranch. When I arrived at the camp, Chappo and his men extended me a cordial welcome and gave me the best his camp afforded. He called out every individual in the camp and with much dignity and long ceremony introduced me to all. There were over 600 Indians then living at the camp. My arrival at the camp excited the curiosity of most of the Indians, as I was the first white person that had ever visited their camp, and only a few of their leaders had ever seen a white person before. As for myself, I did not attract half so much attention as did my horse and saddle, my weapons, and the clothing that I wore. These were all new to most of the Indians, for they had never seen such things before. "Accompanied by two Indians, I made my first trip into the Giant Forest during the summer of 1858. We went in by the way of the Middle Fork and Moro Rock and camped a few days at Log Meadow, after which we came out by the same route that we went in. I do not remember the dates that we were there, but I carved with my knife on the big hollow redwood log my name and the date on the same day that we got there. These figures and my name should still show. When we arrived at Log Meadow there were a great many deer and a few bear in the meadow, which paid but little attention to us other than through curiosity. The deer came all around our camp and looked at us, and some of the bears sat upright in order to get a good look at us. I shot a small buck for camp meat·. This shot did not seem to' frighten the other deer or any of the bears. I had two objects in making this trip. One was for the purpose of locating a high summer range for my stock; and the other was due to the fact that stories the Indians had told me of the "Big Tree" forest caused me to wonder, so I decided to go and see. “By the spring of 1862 quite a number of whites had settled in the Three Rivers section, and the Indians were gradually forced out. Then, too, the Indians had contracted contagious diseases from the whites, such as measles, scarlet fever and smallpox and they died off by the hundreds. I helped to bury 27 in one day up on the Sam Kelly place. About this time Chief Chappo and some of his men came to see me and asked me to try and stop the whites from coming into their country. When I said that was impossible, they all sat down and cried. They told me that their people loved this country, did not want to leave it , and knew not where to go. A few days later Chappo came to me with tears in his eyes and told me that they had decided not to fight the whites, but would leave the country. From that time on, they moved out bit by bit and from time to time, until all were gone. I think by the summer of 1865 the Indians had left the district. The Hospital Rock camp was the last vacated, and they left it clean as a ribbon. For a few years after they left one or two of the Indians would occasionally drift in for just a short while; but this practice soon ceased, and I gradually lost track of them.” William C. Tweed 36:42 I think we could - another good story about the early days of the Giant Forest. The first person really to look at the Giant Forest from a biological point of view came in 1875 he was a wandering Scot, still fairly new in his time in California. He'd only been in California since 1868 or nine, when he'd come from Wisconsin and born again, as I said, in Scotland, a guy named John Muir. Not the famous John Muir we remember, but a fairly young John Muir, still getting started making his mark in the world. He was living in Yosemite by this time, making a living as a guide and newspaper writer, a correspondent in the sense when newspaper correspondents used to correspond at distance. And he became curious about the giant sequoia trees, the King Sequoia tree. He knew them because some of them grow up as far north as Yosemite. And he set off in the summer of 1875 on a wildly adventuresome hike. He decided he would see how far the sequoias went to the south and where they were located. He's going north to south. He's going up over mountains and down through canyons and up over mountains, trying to find, between the canyons, the groves of big trees, the groves of giant sequoia trees. And in that way, in the fall of 1875 he wanders into Giant Forest, and he describes it at some length in the book Our National Parks. And he discovered the three superlative groves, the Converse Basin, the Giant Forest and the one we now call Mountain Home. They were the biggest groves with the most large trees. But the point is, Muir discovered them and understood for the first time that the southern Sierra was the place for giant sequoia trees. They did better there - grew in larger groves, larger individuals, than any place else in the Sierra. And of course, they grew, at that point, nowhere else in the world at all, except in the Sierra Nevada. Doug Still 38:45 Here's John Muir. John Muir reading 38:47 Hence down into the main Kings River cañon, a mile deep, I led and dragged and shoved my patient, much-enduring mule through miles and miles of gardens and brush, fording innumerable streams, crossing savage rock slopes and taluses, scrambling, sliding through gulches and gorges, then up into the grand Sequoia forests of the south side, cheered by the royal crowns displayed on the narrow horizon. Doug Still 39:17 Eventually, he came across a particular grouping of Giant Sequoias that moved him to wax poetic. He named it the giant grove. When John Muir reading 39:27 When I entered this sublime wilderness the day was nearly done, the trees with rosy, glowing countenances seemed to be hushed and thoughtful, as if waiting in conscious religious dependence on the sun, and one naturally walked softly and awe-stricken among them. I wandered on, meeting nobler trees where all are noble, subdued in the general calm, as if in some vast hall pervaded by the deepest sanctities and solemnities that sway human souls. At sundown the trees seemed to cease their worship and breathe free. I heard . the birds going home. I too sought a home for the night on the edge of a level meadow where there is a long, open view between the evenly ranked trees standing guard along its sides. Then after a good place was found for poor Brownie, who had had a hard, weary day sliding and scrambling across the Marble Canon, I made my bed and supper and lay on my back looking up to the stars through pillared arches finer far than the pious heart of man, telling its love, ever reared. Then I took a walk up the meadow to see the trees in the pale light. They seemed still more marvelously massive and tall than by day, heaving their colossal heads into the depths of the sky, among the stars, some of which appeared to be sparkling on their branches like flowers. I built a big fire that vividly illumined the huge brown boles of the nearest trees and the little plants and cones and fallen leaves at their feet, keeping up the show until I fell asleep to dream of boundless forests and trail-building for Brownie… Doug Still 41:18 And he had a frame of reference from knowing the sequoias up in the northern Sierra Nevada. William C. Tweed 41:23 Because he'd already studied the trees in the north, and so he did have that frame of reference. And he wrote about this and as a correspondent in newspapers. And I think it is a very direct connection that within 15 years of Muir's first writings about these places, we see three national parks created in the Sierra Nevada. They are the second, third and fourth national parks in the United States, some of the earliest in the world. And the third, second and fourth national parks in the United States, all preserve giant sequoia trees. [theme music] Doug Still 42:06 After a short break, the General Sherman Tree - that Kong of trees, the King Sequoia - starts getting all the attention. This is This Old Tree. Doug Still 42:24 How did it receive its name? William C. Tweed 42:26 The question of how the General Sherman tree received the name we call it by today is one that tells us a lot about ourselves. Trees don't care what they're called. Names count for us. We humans love to name things, and the name goes back to the early management of the park. The tree itself probably was not given special notice in the early days that the park was being used by Hale Tharp as a cow pasture. We certainly have no account, no connection directly from Tharp to the Sherman tree. But there is a story that I'll draw some skepticism, I'll draw some question marks around. But the story that was told by the park for many years, and probably is still told by many rangers, goes something like this. On the seventh of August, 1879, a cowboy named James Wolverton, who was in the employ of Hale Tharp, discovered what he obviously recognized to be the largest tree in the grove, and named it after the commanding officer he had served under in the American Civil War in the 1860s, General Sherman. And that Wolverton - the guy was named James Wolverton - had been a lieutenant in his army as he invaded the American South and brought the war to a conclusion. It's a good story. It still shows up in print to this day. It has been poked at seriously by historians including myself, and I have to say, has largely dissolved into myth. Here are the flaws in the story. I was skeptical from the beginning. Why would a cowboy name a tree on a particular date and it be remembered for decades? It's just too good to be true. Here are some facts. James Wolverton was not in the army that… did not serve under General Sherman, did not take part in the Civil War in the east, or with any other general. He actually served briefly in a volunteer regiment in Nevada in the West, and he was a deserter. He served for a year and deserted, which shows up in the historical record. So much for that story. And there is no record of this. This story of James Wolverton naming the tree does not show up anywhere until, well, supposedly it took place in 1879. The story doesn't show in print until about 1920, which is almost 40 years after the event. And there's no mention of the name in the 1870s or 1880s, the General Sherman tree. Doug Still 45:12 William mentioned a fringe community that lived among the Giant Sequoias in the 1880s called the Kaweah Colony. It was a socialist group that established itself in 1886, and its members, motivated by ideals of utopian socialism, lived and worked together until the community was disbanded around 1892 after the creation of Sequoia National Park. They called the tree the Karl Marx tree. William C. Tweed 45:39 So there is a likely second story here, a different way that the Sherman tree got its name. If indeed the first name of the tree was the Karl Marx tree given by the Kaweah colonists - that was the name, and there's no evidence that there's any other use of any other name before the Kaweah colony time or during the Kaweah colony time - then how did it suddenly become General Sherman? And there's a very likely suspect, and that suspect is the United States Army, which began protecting the parks, including Sequoia and General Grant Park next door, in the summer of 1891 and did so for almost a quarter century. When the soldiers arrived, we can imagine that they were not particularly enamored of Karl Marx. Doug Still I imagine not. William C. Tweed But why not name the tree after the man who was not only one of the leading generals of the Civil War, but in the years after the Civil War, was the general of all the armies, the head of the entire war department at that time. And so the name appears without other mention in the 1890s during the first decade of military, I don't say occupation, military protection of the park. That's the key thing. It shows up then. Doug Still 46:56 So that was already a trend. William C. Tweed 47:01 Oh, very much so. For example, the General Grant tree over in Kings Canyon Park had received its name for General Grant in the late 1860s two years after the end of the war. So there was certainly a precedent for this sort of thing. Doug Still 47:14 What do you think the impulse was to name the trees back then? William C. Tweed 47:18 I think giant sequoia trees are individuals. You can actually show people who know the forest pictures of trees, and you'll recognize them. But when you look at a monarch Sequoia, you know which one it is. They're individual. Doug Still 47:32 And how much do you think this matters? William C. Tweed 47:36 Almost none at all. [laughter] Right, the human reaction to the trees is only minimally about the name. The trick to, the other reason to name trees is that it's always been one of the goals of the park to get people out walking the trails. Because we all have always believed in the park that you don't really get to understand the Sequoia forest or appreciate it until you're on foot within the trees, whether you walk, as we used to say, 100 yards or 100 miles, makes no difference. You need to be out of your car and on the ground. And to do that, you need somewhere to go, and therefore it's useful to give you destinations. By naming trees. Doug Still 48:14 You mentioned a story about the fence being built around the Sherman tree. Could you tell that story? William C. Tweed 48:21 Yes, the first attempt to protect the General Shermon tree, versus simply name it or look at it or photograph it or appreciate it, came during the army days in a very interesting summer. As I mentioned already, the park was overseen by cavalry troops from 1891 through the summer of 1913 and those troops were rotated every year or two, and they were only here in the summer, only in the park in the summer. And they tended to, they tended to be sort of a nice duty for Army troops. And in 1903 the set of troops that were sent came from the Ninth US Cavalry, which for those who happen to know history will appreciate, was a Black unit. There were two cavalry units and two infantry units within the late 19th, early 20th century army that were staffed entirely… the enlisted men were entirely of Black or Black Americans. They were called Buffalo Soldiers, a name that was given to them by the American Indians, who they contested with on the Great Plains in the American West during the Indian wars of the late 19th century. And they were well respected troops, by the army at least, but they could only be used in very certain ways because America did not accept Blacks in many different settings. Most of the Buffalo Soldier companies were overseen by White officers. But one in particular was not. That's the one that came to Sequoia and General Grant in the summer in 1903 overcome by a man named Captain Young, Captain Charles Young. He was an amazing person. He was determined to be a model to prove what his race was capable of doing in an America that really did not want the message, and pushed him back in every way. He got himself into West Point, a pretty astounding thing for the 19th century. Was one of the very few Black Americans to make it through West Point at that time, and was commissioned an officer, and rose from Second Lieutenant to First Lieutenant, finally, to captain. But of course, could only be sent out to oversee black troops, because it was unthinkable that he would give orders to White people. And so in the summer of 1903 he arrived in the park with his company, and he was just, in a way that he was throughout his career, was just a whirlwind of energy and accomplishment. He completed the road to Giant Forest, a project that had been underway for several previous years and had been a year or two, and he built another five or six miles that summer. He built a trail to the top of Mount Whitney that wasn't even in the park yet, but it was a military reservation set aside for meteorological studies. But he couldn't resist it. It's in the park today, of course. He got options on all the private lands in the park because he thought they all ought to belong to the government. He just was an amazingly active guy. And while he was at it, he looked at the biggest trees that were perceived at the time, and turned out to be true, the General Grant and the General Sherman over at Grant Park. And he built a fence around each with a sign that says, “Respect the tree. Keep out, please.” So up into that time, people had been carving their names in the trees and pounding their…the habit was to paint your name on a shingle and nail it to the tree. Doug Still Right. William C. Tweed He cleaned them up and fenced them. Doug Still Show some respect. William C. Tweed Show some respect. Which was exactly what he was trying to show the world about himself, show some respect. And so one of the many things he accomplished, but sort of a model today, of course, the tree is fenced. It's been fenced in one regard or another since that time, consistently, since the late 1920s. Doug Still 52:13 That's a great story. Is he recognized at the park in any way? Or is there a, I don't know, a display about him, or anything written? William C. Tweed 52:20 There are displays. There actually, now is a very nice thing. There is a Charles Young tree. Doug Still Fantastic. William C. Tweed His troopers proposed that there should be a tree named after him, and he said, “No.” I'd rather name a tree after other people. His attempt to recognize the kind of work he did was to name a tree after Booker T Washington. And he named a Booker T Washington tree. He recorded that in his annual report. He took a picture of it with a sign on it. Doug Still 52:55 Here are the words of Captain Charles Young, Acting Superintendent of Sequoia and General Grant National Parks, in his 1903 report to the Secretary of the Interior. Charles Young 53:07 The trees of the park consist of pines and cedars and firs in general, and of the giant redwoods, or sequoias in particular, all of which are well worth protecting. It has been previously remarked that the Sequoia National Park is the Giant Forest, but is believed by many that even without the grandeur of the Giant Forest, which is matchless anywhere else in the world, there are enough beautiful mountain views, delightful camping sites and watercourses stocked with fish to constitute a National Park where the overworked and weary citizens of the country can find rest, coolness, and quiet for a few weeks during the hot summer months, and where both large and small game can have a refuge and be allowed to increase. Indeed, a journey through this park and the Sierra Forest Reserve to the Mount Whitney country will convince even the least thoughtful man of the needfulness of preserving these mountains just as they are, with their clothing of trees, shrubs, rocks and vines, and of their importance of the valleys below as reservoirs for the storage of water for agricultural and domestic purposes. In this, then, lies the necessity of forest preservation. It is recommended that the naming of giant trees by irresponsible parties be stopped. So far I know of no names placed upon trees that would not be acceptable to the entire nation. It should be so. I permitted the naming of three trees in Sequoia park this season. One, GAR tree in honor of the Grand Army of the Republic. Another, from its peculiar growth of three large trees from one big trunk, was named I, O, O, F, for the Odd Fellows of the Country, and the third, after repeated requests from visitors and the wishes of the workmen who finished the Giant Forest Road, was named for that great and good American, Booker T. Washington. To protect the General Grant and General Sherman trees, I had redwood fences made around them and notices duly posted against trespassing within their enclosures. This was necessary to prevent theft of bark and standing upon their roots by photographic parties. In conclusion, I would fail in my duty toward the officers and men if I did not commend the hearty cooperation and efficiency of the former, and the faithfulness to duty and good conduct of the latter, a fact that was commented upon by both visitors of the park and the residents in the neighborhoods of the camp. Respectfully submitted, Charles Young, Captain, Ninth Cavalry, Acting Superintendent. Doug Still 56:02 Charles Young has been increasingly recognized for his achievements in recent times. In 2013, President Obama designated Young’s house the 401st unit of the National Park System, the Charles Young Buffalo Soldiers National Monument. He was posthumously promoted to Brigadier General. There’s a long list of honors. William Tweed states that Young was the first American to do anything to protect, administer, and oversee a national park, and he’s sort of a founding father of that particular tradition. In this day and age, that government report he wrote is surprisingly moving. ‘Cause, that’s how you do it. A leader appreciates and acknowledges the hard work that the rank and file do every day, the extra effort. Especially when the work is important, and they care, as most government workers do. We need our National Parks Service and US Forest Service employees, with their critical skills and institutional knowledge. William Tweed served the Park Service for nearly 40 years, pouring his life into understanding the park he loves so much. He’s still telling the stories. We need more Charles Youngs, and we need more William C. Tweeds. [music] Doug Still 57:28 With the threats of climate change, drought, increased fire potential, and now the Sequoia Bark Beetle, the future longevity of giant sequoias is a serious concern. One source of hope is active, passionate involvement from nonprofits, and from researchers from both universities and the private sector, ready to work in collaboration with the National Park Service and the Forest Service. The big example is the Giant Sequoia Lands Coalition, which brings together many organizations like the Sequoia Parks Conservancy, Save the Redwoods League, the Ancient Forest Society, and the Tule River Tribe. There are others. Visit their websites to learn more about their research and the management actions they are taking. One particularly fascinating activity concerns “cultural burns” led by experts from local tribes. It’s a piece of the larger effort to manage prescribed low-intensity fires for the health of the forest since the 1960s, and prevent catastrophic fires that kill giant sequoias. Cultural burn demonstrations have been initiated by Tule River, North Fork Mono, and Tübatulabal tribes, a practice banned more than 100 years ago when fire was misunderstood. They are often tied to spiritual beliefs and rituals, and a celebration of culture. When it comes to the land, listening more to indigenous wisdom benefits everyone. Back to William Tweed, who put our understanding of giant sequoias in perspective. William C. Tweed 59:04 A concept I stumbled on in my trying to explain giant sequoia trees is what I call “Sequoia Time.” We all know human time. 100 years is a long time. Those of us who read and care about such stuff know about geologic time. A million years is a short moment, right? Well, in between is Sequoia Time. We spend all this time talking about how to manage and protect organisms that live 20 to 30 centuries as individual organisms. We have been paying attention to them, really, for a century and a half. My comparison is, say a Martian lands on the earth and studies human beings for six months and then explains everything you need to know about how human beings work. We would guess that Martian might miss a few things? That's how much we know about giant sequoia trees and time. We haven’t been here very long. Doug Still 59:59 In terms of culture and inspiration, and due to its size and perhaps its sheer celebrity, the General Sherman tree seems different. We talked about that a little bit, and you've thought about the General Sherman tree more than anyone else, and you saw its effect on people. How does experiencing an entity of such vast proportions alter our perception of ourselves and change us? William C. Tweed 1:00:31 The answers vary enormously, depending on the human mind that's looking at the tree. It's very hard for me to give you an answer of, “This is what a big giant sequoia tree does to people.” If there's anything that is universal, it is simply surprise. Which is not a very profound reaction, but it's a very common human reaction. We live in a world where everything almost has been photographed. I call it the National Geographic world. There's nothing we can't imagine, because we've seen a picture of everything. We're so accustomed to it we never even think about that. One hundred years ago, most of what's on this planet, nobody could imagine because nobody had ever seen it, or most people had not seen it. Now we can see everything. I mean, how many things are on television and on the streaming services every night? And so, but, saying that, still, when you arrive at a giant sequoia tree, you discover something - particularly the General Sherman or the General Grant and the other very large trees - you discover that the photographs really do not do them justice. Doug Still Impossible. William C. Tweed You've been there, you, I think you see, you probably had this reaction. You said, “Oh!” Or some elaborate, some better expressed version of that. Doug Still 1:01:59 The photographs don't translate to how it actually feels to stand next to it in person. William C. Tweed 1:02:04 Yes. And so there, I think, is the closest I can come to a universal reaction is, “There it is.” And it's so much bigger than anybody can imagine. Doug Still 1:02:15 William, thank you very much for sharing your knowledge and for your entire career in studying and writing about giant sequoias. It's highly enlightening, and I think it means a lot to the world. So thanks, it's been very inspiring, and I'm glad you've joined This Old Tree today. William C. Tweed 1:02:38 Well, it's been a great pleasure to be with you today. I've had the very rare privilege, as you've been hearing, to spend much of my life trying to understand these trees, and I can't imagine a better life. They teach us each something. I have learned so much about the natural world through hanging out with giant sequoia trees that I could talk for days about them, as you probably fear I would like to. Doug Still 1:03:07 [chuckles] Thank you so much. William C. Tweed Been my pleasure. Doug Still Now to finish my own story. [dreamy music] Parking near the General Sherman tree was a challenge, even in March. The parking lot is tiny - and it’s a good thing not to turn our national park into a large parking lot - but it was full. I swung around and parked aways downhill along the road against a snow bank. As I carefully walked back to the entrance of the trail, I passed groups of people. I felt the buzz in the air, the excitement. The path to the tree was a sheet of ice, compacted from the foot traffic. It was no joke. A woman guided by her husband walked by, her face and coat covered in blood. I heard she face-planted on the ice and broke her nose. The cleats seemed like a great idea now. I clung to the fence and made small steps - no rush, but no turning back now. Coming around a bend, the tree appeared through the other trees like an adult among children. It was unbelievable, a massive presence rising up out of the snow, with snow covered branches like off a holiday card. Out in front of it, the space widens into a reverential viewing area. People stood in pairs and family groups, just staring up at the tree, snapping endless photos. Besides the tree’s immensity, what struck me most was how pristine it looks from the ground. The trunk is perfect - cinnamon brown and smooth. Any past wounds from fallen branches had long ago been swallowed up by the thick bark. Hardly any dead branches were to be seen, way high up. In fact, almost all the giant sequoias have this trait, a sort of glowing perfection. The tree has a fence around it. In front of the fence on the ground is a wooden sign with white lettering that simply says, “General Sherman.” We tree viewers took turns posing behind the sign in front of the tree, and took pictures for each other. This felt like a communal event, with strangers sharing in the thrill and the joy. And not just for Americans, but for people all over the world. Just standing there I overheard Russian, Japanese, Spanish, Hindi, and German. I asked a young family to snap my picture in front of the tree, and then we chatted. (to some fellow visitors) So what are your names? Tom Allen 1:05:41 I’m Tom. Alex Allen Alex. Emmy Riley and I'm Emmy. Doug Still 1:05:43 Nice to meet you. Where are you from? Tom and Alex Australia, Melbourne. Doug Still Did you come just to see the General Sherman tree? Tom Allen I absolutely did. [laughter] We also brought the little one to see Disneyland. Emmy Riley 1:05:54 Yeah, she saw Disneyland. And yeah, he wanted to come and see the big trees. Doug Still 1:05:58 So, what are your thoughts on visiting and seeing this enormous tree standing behind me. Tom Allen 1:06:03 Oh I'm in absolute awe of this thing, it's gigantic. Alex Allen I got shocked. Doug Still You were surprised! Emmy Riley (to Alex) You were surprised, yeah. [laughter] Doug Still 1:06:11 Do you know how old it is? Tom Allen 1:06:14 Couple 1000 years, I think, is it? Alex Allen I think it's 6,000 years! Emmy Riley Oh, I think 21,000 is what it said on the website. Sorry, 2,100. Doug Still 1:06:26 Yeah, I think maybe 2,100. Emmy Riley 2,100 that's it. Doug Still Why did you want to come see this tree? Tom Allen Who wouldn't want to see the biggest tree in the world? Doug Still Absolutely. [laughter] Do you have trees this big in Australia? Tom Allen Tasmania? Absolutely. A giant ash. Doug Still A giant ash in Tasmania. Tom Allen Yeah, they're the second, the biggest, I think, maybe, or around there? Doug Still Well, it looks like I'm gonna have to go there now to visit that tree. Emmy Riley Oh, yeah, absolutely! Tom Allen It’s crazy, yeah. Alex Allen Yeah, it's humongous! Doug Still 1:06:55 You see, trees bring people together. There’s no better example of that than the General Sherman Tree, and let’s not forget all its named brethren in the Giant Forest of Sequoia National Park. If you haven’t already, make sure you get there one day to see them in person. [guitar music] Thank you tree lovers, for joining me today to talk about the General Sherman Tree. My heartfelt thanks once again to William C. Tweed for spending a tiny bit of sequoia time to share his thoughts about these magnificent trees. There’s so much more to talk about. Links to his books are in the show notes. Thanks also to Josh Abrams for reading Hale Tharp, Ewan Eadie for playing John Muir, and Jeff Taliaferro for reading Charles Young. You guys were terrific. Original music was written for this episode by Justin Peters, inspired by what it might be like to visit a giant sequoia grove. As usual, the theme music is by Dee Lee, and artwork by Dahn Hiuni. Visit the show website at thisoldtree.show, transcripts are available. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram to see photos and get hints about what’s coming next. The podcast is now a sponsored project of the New England Chapter of the International Society of Arboriculture. Visit newenglandisa.org to learn more about this great organization. Thanks again for listening. I’m Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. This Old Tree with Doug Still
S’Ozzastru and the Ancient Olive Trees of Sardinia - Transcript Season 3, Episode 2 August 24, 2025 Doug Still 00:00 You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still. Doug Still 00:07 Some trees we've met on this show are old. And then, there's S'Ozzastru. [Sardinian Launeddas music] S'Ozzastru is the name locals call a 4000 year old olive tree near Luras, Sardinia off the west coast of Italy. It is one of dozens of ancient wild olive trees still thriving in groves around the island and perhaps the oldest throughout the Mediterranean. It was a sapling about 1500 years before the Parthenon was built on the Acropolis of Athens, and 2000 years before the Colosseum in Rome. How could this tree survive for so long? What civilizations has it seen come and go? Who has sat beneath it? Doug Still 01:04 To find out, I toured Sardinia with my traveling companion, Ed Nardell, this past April. I spoke with Anna Maria Corda, tour guide and spokesperson for S'Ozzastru, which is now a promoted tourist attraction. I also met with four agronomists from AGRIS, the Regional Agricultural Research Agency of Sardinia, whose mission, in part, is to protect and enhance oliviculture, the practice of growing olives. We visited the site of a devastating wildfire that destroyed another 1000 year old olive tree - a tragedy that kicked off an effort to preserve the genetic heritage of wild olives. As drought and destructive wildfires become more common with climate change, will the ancient olive trees of Sardinia continue to survive? Come along with me to learn about the fantastic S'Ozzastru and the ancient olive trees of Sardinia. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. [This Old Tree theme song] Doug Still 02:24 Ed and I rented a car in Cagliari, the charming capital city on the southeast coast of Sardinia, and headed north. It was hard to contain my excitement. We were on our way to see one of the oldest trees in the world. In order to get there, the highway took us inland away from the coastal resorts and renowned beaches with clear aquamarine water that most visitors to the island come for. It got rural fast as we drove through rolling fields of green and yellow. After a few hours, we found ourselves heading up steep, craggy mountains. The road narrowed and began to snake in an endless series of curves, up one mountain side and down the next. Every turn brought stunning views across forested valleys. Higher elevations caused the trees to disperse into groupings surrounded by grassland with wildflowers in full bloom. Rocky outcrops capped each mountain, although cliff drop-offs could occur anywhere, traversed by narrow bridges. Periodically, a small town would come into view across the valley, its clustered houses in pastel hues clinging to the side of a mountain. It was incredibly picturesque. Within 10 minutes, the road would wind its way through the very same town we'd seen from a distance, usually a single, narrow, horizontal street edged with old buildings. Driving often required slow, coordinated maneuvering with oncoming cars and strolling townspeople. Even smaller streets ascended steeply off the main street to one side and descended precipitously down the other. There were many towns like this. They felt truly authentic, unspoiled by tourism. We could have been peering back through time. We learned that most of the people who lived there - those who hadn't moved away, that is - had lived in their community their whole lives, their ancestors extending back generations. We stayed one night in a town called Seulo, famous for having the highest concentration of centenarians in the world outside of Okinawa, Japan. This is one of the world's “blue zones,” characterized by low rates of chronic disease and a lifestyle that promotes long lives. Some credit Sardinian longevity to the red wine they drink called Cannonau. Maybe some of its powers will rub off on me - I had a glass or more every night with dinner. As a prelude to visiting the famous olive tree, I was beginning to get a sense of the island's dreamy, unchanging nature. Doug Still 05:05 We made our way to Luras in the north where S’Ozzastru is located. It is a rural commune that contains the stunning Lake Liscia, set among craggy mountains. Purple thistle and rosemary were blooming along the roadside next to yellow scotch broom. We drove through groves of olive trees, holly oak, myrtle and cork oak. It turns out, this area is a major producer of cork used by Italy's wine industry. We visited a museum that described how cork has been harvested over the centuries. Many of these oak trees were stripped of old bark up to about 10 feet in height or more, but we learned that new bark was growing in a continual, time tested process that didn't harm the trees. We arrived at Olivastri Millenari di Luras, directly translated as the “Millennial Olive Trees of Luras.” It is a sanctuary that cares for a grove of 1000 year old trees and regulates guided tours. A group of bikers dressed in leather was just leaving, otherwise there was no one else to be seen. We walked up a hill to the bar that served as a small visitors center to buy tickets. It overlooks a sweeping view of the lake. I was scheduled to meet with an experienced tour guide named Anna Maria Corda who speaks fluent English, but she was down in the grove with a group of local school children. We ordered a cappuccino as we waited for her, but then I heard the sound of bells. [bells tinkling] I stepped around back and peered over a fence to see a flock of sheep in a sunny field herded by a few dogs. The sheep were wearing the bells. I didn't know it yet, but a clue to S’Ozzastru’s secret of longevity was grazing in front of me about 30 yards away. Eventually, Anna Maria came back, and we were surrounded by school children, which was great fun. We met over the din, and as we headed down to the grove, we started chatting. Doug Still How do you pronounce your name? Anna Maria Corda 07:17 My name is Anna Maria Corda. Doug Still 07:26 This tree is called S’Ozzast…… Anna Maria Corda 07:29 S’Ozzastru, yes, it's a Sardinian to say the wild olive tree. Because for us, it is, yeah, the only one. It's like it is the only one. Ozzastru with a big O. It is our tree. We consider it our tree. Doug Still 07:49 Is it sometimes called the Great Patriarch? Anna Maria Corda 07:51 Yeah, exactly. It was called the Great Patriarch when he was.. when they started considering it as a natural monument. So in 1991, about. But for us, it is always our S’Ozzastro, our olivastro in Italian. Wild olive tree. Doug Still 08:18 We walked through a rustic gate and down a sloped path of wooden planks, and immediately it was there, directly before us. It appeared to hold court in the landscape, a strong presence that, on first impression, inspired reverence rather than awe. From where we stood, it was more like a large mound of light green vegetation than a tree, its horizontal branches spreading wide and sweeping to the ground. The tree's canopy is about 45 feet tall and 75 feet wide, a picture of health. It sat in a meadow and was surrounded by a wooden rail fence placed outside the drip line so you couldn't walk underneath it. The fence protected the roots from likely thousands of visitors eager to touch the trunk. (to Anna Maria) And this is a national monument? Anna Maria Corda 09:06 Yes, it's a national monument, a national natural monument. So it's been safeguarded since then. Doug Still 09:17 A national list of monumental trees has been kept by the Ministry of Agriculture, Food and Forestry Policies in Rome since a Ministerial Decree was announced in 2013. Local municipalities and regions throughout Italy are tasked with inventorying trees and submitting potential candidates for consideration as monumental trees. Criteria to be considered are longevity, size, rarity and cultural value. Local authorities are also responsible for protecting these recognized trees. The unauthorized damage or killing of a monumental tree is against the law, with steep fines of up to 100,000 euros. (to Anna Maria) Who's the owner of the property? Who manages the property? Anna Maria Corda 10:03 The property is managed now by a society who is in charge to, well, you know, protect him, to guide the visits to this tree and to explain the history of the place where it is. And give some, you know, some curiosities, some information about it. Because it's not only history, it's also legends sometimes that people say, you know. People say a lot of things. [absolutely] And I work with a few other guides and people, well, people from Luras. We all are from Luras, the people who work here, and so we’ve known this big tree since we were kids. Doug Still 10:58 Wonderful. And you're an English teacher? Anna Maria Corda 11:01 Yeah, I'm also an English teacher and a translator. Well, I've translated some books also, you know, some novels, but I like to work as a guide here. Doug Still 11:17 Is S’Ozzastru the oldest olive tree in Sardinia? Anna Maria Corda 11:21 Yes, actually it's the oldest wild olive tree in Italy. In Italy it is also the oldest tree in general. Doug Still 11:33 It’s the oldest tree in Italy. [Yes] And is it the oldest olive tree in the Mediterranean? Anna Maria Corda 11:38 It's the oldest olive tree in all Europe and in the Mediterranean, yeah, the oldest wild olive tree. Doug Still 11:45 Anna Maria made the important distinction between the wild olive trees growing in Luras and the cultivated olive tree, whose origins, according to the International Olive Council, have been lost in time. Theories abound, but both types are ancient. The Phoenicians disseminated the cultivated olive throughout the Mediterranean during the 2nd millenia B.C., including Sardinia most likely. Evidence of the wild olive dates thousands of years before that. The Latin names are confusing even to me, but I looked it up and I’ll give it a shot. The species is Olea europaea, which is divided into six subspecies. The subspecies in question here is also called europaea, so Olea europea, subspecies europaea. It, in turn, is divided into two varieties. The first variety is - you guessed it - europaea (ugh) which is the cultivated olive. So Olea europaea, subs europaea, var. europaea. You’ve got to be kidding me. It used to be called Olea sativa, but the botanists changed the name based on good reasons, I’m assuming. The variety for the wild olive is sylvestris, so it is Olea europaea subs. europaea var. sylvestris. If I got this wrong, let’s start a thread for sticklers on social media. The point is that Anna Maria claims S’Ozzastru is the oldest wild olive. Other claims for having the world’s oldest olive tree like in Crete or elsewhere, are dealing with a different variety. It’s apples and oranges. Anna Maria Corda 13:29 We have some information. I know there is. There should be some old common olive trees in the Mediterranean. I guess it's the territory, maybe Israel, Palestine, but it's a common olive tree. It's not wild. It's not like this one that grew spontaneously here. [I see] Doug Still 13:49 In Sardinia, olive trees are a deep part of the culture. Like the visiting school group we met earlier, children are taught about olives from a very young age. So the difference between the wild olive tree and the cultivated olive - or common olive, as Anna Maria called it - is very clear, including where they grow on the island. Anna Maria Corda 14:10 Here and in Sardinia, we have, well, a lot of wild olive trees, Europea olea actually, in this area, in this part of Sardinia. We don't cultivate common olive trees. It's not the right climate or the right conditions. In Sardinia, you find cultivation of olive trees in other areas, like the Alghero area or Ogliastra. The same name says l’olio ogliastra. It's a place where there is a lot of cultivation of oil and everything. You see the difference when you see it from, also from a bit far. It looks like a big bush, because the branches go all the way to the ground. So the common olive tree grows in eight [sic] and also the branches go up… Doug Still 15:03 Like a “v.” Anna Maria Corda 15:07 Yeah, up and out. This one. Now the wild olive tree grows like a bush, so the branches grow horizontally and down. Doug Still 15:19 The overall habit, I can see around us, they're round. Does it produce olives? Anna Maria Corda 15:26 It still produces olives. So they are very, very small, very small. Doug Still Are they tasty? Anna Maria Corda Actually, they are bitter. They are very bitter. Doug Still 15:37 Even after curing them? Anna Maria Corda 15:39 Well, someone has tried to produce oil or to put it, you know, under salt pickles like pickled olives. But, well, maybe they are not so suitable to eat. You can eat them, and maybe someone likes them… Doug Still 16:04 [laughter]…but not you?, Anna Maria Corda 16:06 Well no, actually, they are very bitter. Also, since they are so small, so small, a great quantity is needed to produce oil. So it would cost a lot. And well, if you would like to purchase some oil, yeah, it would be very expensive I guess, because of these reasons. Doug Still 16:28 And you already have so much great olive oil in Sardinia. Anna Maria Corda 16:34 Yeah, exactly. Yeah, maybe that is the reason - in Sardinia we have great olive oil. So if we had needed the olive oil, maybe we would have used it. Another difference with the common olive tree is - besides the way it grows, are also the leaves. They are very small. They are smaller than the common olive tree. And they are different colors. And also, you will see the branches, the twigs that are knotty, very knotty. Doug Still 17:15 That's knotty, k-n-o-t-t-y, not the other kind of “naughty.” We walked up as close to the tree as possible without hopping the fence, and peered into an opening in the canopy to see the trunk. It was unbelievable, and knotty only begins to describe it. How about gnarled, contorted, pulsing, scarred, hollowed. If I were to describe it in anthropomorphic terms, I would use the words elderly, wise, weary, grounded, wrinkled, alive - and indomitable. Here and there, dead branches fell out of the center, their dry tips leaning on the ground. But most notably, the trunk is very, very thick. The trunk is over 3.5 meters or 11 feet in diameter at breast height, and then widens out at ground level to a whopping 6 meters or 18 feet in diameter. You can feel the mass of it all. Its surface alternates between live wood and decay, a tangle of life and death. The trunks, edges and hollows undulate in and out, making it hard to discern the tree's actual shape. How could someone possibly determine how old it is? (to Anna Maria) How have experts been able to estimate its age? Anna Maria Corda 18:34 Yeah, that's one of the most asked questions. [theme music] Doug Still 18:40 With that question hanging, we're going to take a short break. When we come back, you'll hear Anna Maria's answer. We'll also get into how S’Ozzastru has lived for so long. The answer is more than just biological. You're listening to This Old Tree. Break Announcement 19:03 I'm excited to share some big news! 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Thank you to all the faithful listeners of this show, and thank you to New England ISA for helping This Old Tree grow. Now back to the show. [Sardinian Launeddas music] Anna Maria Corda 20:26 That's one of the most asked questions, because of course we could not cut the trunk and count the famous rings. That is the science called dendrochronology. Doug Still 20:43 Coring the trunk to count the annual rings was not an option because it might damage the historic tree. Besides, it wouldn't work even if researchers wanted to do that due to the trunk’s irregular shape, filled with hollows. So how did they do it? Anna Maria Corda 20:58 They established it actually, by a comparison. There is, in this area that is Karana. Karana is the place where, this country, this area, there are a lot of wild olive trees. Also old wild olive trees, like centuries old, and they were already maybe sick or dying. So they made studies upon those trees so they wouldn't damage it, damage them. Doug Still 21:30 They could count those rings. Anna Maria Corda 21:34 Okay, yeah. They found out that this type of tree grows very slowly. Very, very slowly, only two millimeters per year in the first 20 years of life. So it's very slow. It's already slow, but it grows even slower as time goes by. So up to half a millimeter per year. Doug Still 22:00 Is that how it's able to survive so long - slow growth, slow metabolism, so to speak? Anna Maria Corda 22:07 Yeah, yeah. I guess it could be one of the reasons, also, because, you know, as rings are so small, are so thin, maybe the trunk became thicker, stronger. It could be one of the reasons why, actually. They are still studying it. I guess though, there is a big amount of luck, a great amount of luck to be so old, to have resisted all calamities or parasites and everything. Doug Still 22:42 Or just agriculture. Nobody ever cut the tree down or took over the spot. Anna Maria Corda 22:50 But you know, since it is about 4000 years old, 4000 years old means it is about the age of the pyramids. So we had Nuragic culture here. [Yes] So it means that, you know, for Christians, when Christ was born in the year zero, it was already old, already 2000 years old. Doug Still 23:14 Anna Maria mentioned Nuragic culture. And so what does that mean? It refers to the mysterious Bronze Age civilization that inhabited Sardinia for about 1500 years prior to Roman arrival, but possibly longer. Evidence for the Nuragi people dates back to about 1800 BC, although their emergence is not totally clear. Coincidentally, this is about the same time S’Ozzastru was a young, slow growing sapling. The Nuragi left no writing or records of any sort, although various Greek and Roman authors describe them in a way some say is more mythic than historical. We know very little about them, except for found artifacts like bronze figurines and pottery. What we also have, and any visitor to Sardinia can tell you are numerous stone, tower-like monuments spread across the island. Thousands of them. As a matter of fact, these rustic structures are also called Nuraghe, and over 7,000 of them can be found standing on a lone ridge here, or a mountain top there. Some are extensive and require admission and a tour guide to enter, while others are just standing on their own, randomly waiting to be discovered on a hike. It's amazing that these incredibly old monuments still stand after all this time. Like Ed said, traveling through Sardinia is akin to stepping back into the Bronze Age. Sardinia is not just a Blue Zone for human longevity. Add to the list these wonderful Nuraghe and - oh yes - the wild olive trees. Anna Maria Corda 24:51 So maybe the old inhabitants of the area, we imagine that they, maybe it was, you know, worshiped as a great plant, a big plant. I guess it could be an hypothesis, because they were, the old inhabitants had the natural religions. It was where they worshiped in nature. So a big tree like this. I guess it's… Doug Still 25:21 Sort of like a holy tree. Anna Maria Corda 25:26 Yeah, like a holy tree. I don't know, we actually don't have many monuments like nuraghes, much nuragic sites here. Maybe they were destroyed in the course of the years. But, well, it's just an hypothesis, Nuragic or other people who lived here. Doug Still 25:45 Due to its key position in the western Mediterranean, Sardinia saw many, many foreign invaders come and go, each group leaving their mark. Here’s a simplistic, lightning-round run-down. Prior to 1,800 B.C. there were stone age peoples that we know even less about than Nuragic Civilization. But when the Nuraghi appeared, they thrived throughout the island for nearly 900 years until the Phoenicians made landfall sometime in the 9th or 8th century B.C. The Phoenicians were seafaring people originally emanating from current day Lebanon. They were traders who explored the Mediterranean and created settlements, mostly peacefully. For the most part they did not fight with the Nuraghe they encountered, but mixed with them, genetically and culturally. The Phoenician period led to more trade with the outside world, and more interest from foreigners. The Greeks settled for a short time, but left after 60 years. The warlike Carthaginians, ancestrally related to the Phoenicians, took hold of southern Sardinia in 535 B.C. as they began to expand across the region from current day Libya. They fought with the Nuraghi, but were not successful in taking the inner mountainous areas or the northern part of the island. The Carthaginians were eventually repulsed in 238 B.C. by the Romans during the First Punic War. Hence, the arrival of the Romans. The Romans stayed for nearly 600 years, building coastal towns, roads, and other infrastructure. The southwestern town of Tharros is one example. I visited the ruins of the site during my trip to Sardinia. It overlooks the sea on a beautiful peninsula. It is just stunning. Like the Carthaginians, the Romans kept mainly to the coast, and were not able to adequately tame the wild tribes of the inner mountains. Their main interests were trading, fishing, and farming in the low plains. They had fits trying to control the desolate mountains that were home to scrappy natives. After Rome fell, there was a brief invasion by the Vandals, but then the island became part of the Byzantine Empire. In the 8th century there was a series of coastal Arab-led invasions, more like pirate raids than a full occupation. They were expelled in the middle ages by armies controlled by rulers in Pisa and Genoa. The island was divided into four entities known as Judicates. S’Ozzastru stood in the Judicate of Gallura. The region is called Gallura to this day. The Aragonese from Spain touched down in Northwestern Sardinia to rule the region where the City of Sassari is. Spanish influence can still be felt there, a proud part of their heritage. Eventually, the whole island was incorporated into Italy during its unification in 1861 led in part by Giuseppe Garibaldi, the famous general and revolutionary. Garibaldi absolutely loved Sardinia. He had a country house on the island of Caprera, the house is now a museum. Like him, the rich and famous inhabit today’s coastal Sardinia. The area is invaded by hordes of tourists, especially mainland Italians. They revel in summer resort towns in order to soak up the sun, drink Sardinian Vermentino and Myrto, and bathe in the crystal clear water. By now, one thing might be obvious to you. Since ancient times there has been a marked difference in culture and way of life between Sardinia’s more worldly coastal communities and the interior mountains and rural countryside. There, little changes from year to year, century to century, and perhaps from one millennium to the next. THIS is where S’Ozzastru lives. Anna Maria Corda 29:41 One of the reasons why it grew so old, it could be also the place where it grew. Where it was born. Doug Still 29:50 Why is this valley a special place for growing all old olive trees? Anna Maria Corda 29:56 I guess he found the right habitat. Maybe, because we don't have only this one that is a 1000 year old tree, but also another tree that is 2,500 years old. Doug Still 30:13 Right? And we're not giving that one any attention. Well, you do… Anna Maria Corda 30:16 Actually, also, because, well, it is protected. This is a kind of a valley, you know, there's a hill that protects it, and it's kind of a shelter. Maybe it's sheltered by everything. Doug Still 30:34 We're on the south side of this mountain… I can tell from the sun [laughter]. Anna Maria Corda 30:39 Oh, wow, yeah, you're better than me. Doug Still 30:43 And if the landscape has been a factor in the olive tree’s long term survival, then by extension, so have the people who have made use of it and fended off change since time immemorial. Not anyone rich or famous, I discovered, but people who could be considered the heart and soul of Sardinia. Shepherds. (to Anna Maria) Do you know of famous historical people that have visited this tree? Any stories? Anna Maria Corda 31:09 Any stories? Well, the stories are mostly legends about, well, the animals who found shelter under this, under the tree. Also, we had a lot of shepherds here. It's a place where shepherds have lived for centuries. So they brought their sheep, their flocks, to stay here. And also there's a sign of fire in the trunk. Maybe on one of those cold, cold evenings, cold nights in winter, maybe some shepherds they are to light a fire. Doug Still 32:08 Archeological evidence suggests that sheep have been on the island for at least 6,000 years. Domesticated sheep farming is deeply engrained in Sardinian culture. The image of the shepherd guiding his flock around ancient ruins in the windswept landscape is at the same time mythic and still an everyday occurrence. While driving one day in the countryside, we had to stop our car to allow a massive group of sheep pass by. Among the flock were tiny lambs that were adorable as they struggled to keep up with their ambling elders. They were guided by several young men who nodded to us as we watched out the car window. They were modern day shepherds. S’Ozzastru’s own shepherd story made me search high and low for folk legends about them, but they’re difficult for an English speaking person to find. I did find a novel called Elias Portolu written in 1903 by a Sardinian author named Grazia Deledda. She is famous in Italy, but relatively passed over elsewhere. In fact, she is the only Italian woman ever to win the Nobel prize for literature. The novel was translated by American Kevan Houser, who gave me permission to read a passage from the book. Elias Portolu is the name of the main character, a shepherd, who has tragically fallen in love with his brother’s fiancee. His turmoil and inner dialogue is expressed while he is out in the desolate, dramatic landscape tending to his duties. There’s a Sardinian word you should know, which is tanca, t-a-n-c-a. Kevan Houser defines a tanca as a large holding of land - some of it cleared, some in a natural state, with woods, streams, boulders, and other elements - surrounded by a low wall for agricultural purposes, like grazing sheep. Here’s a taste of the passage in Italian, and then in English. Elias Portolu reading 34:03 Now, Elias was finally back in the boundless solitude of the tanca, where the only signs of life were the cries and whistles of a shepherd, the tinkling bells of sheep and the bellowing of bulls. Thick woods of cork oak trees silhouetted the horizon framing the serene backdrop of the sky. The Portolu’s tanca had been mostly cleared of trees here earlier and now stretched out in the vast open sunbeaten expanse. Only the occasional Cork Tree rose up here and then amidst the green grasses, shrubs and brambles. Tender, delicate vegetation scented with mint and thyme graced the damp expanses. Only under the trees and in damp stretches did the grass remain green and cool. Although flat and unwooded, the tanca has secret recesses, rocks and bushes. At night, the scent of the Russian mint was almost irritating. The Portolus’ reasonably large flock pastured in the tanca. The sheep were plump with their long, thick fleeces. Elias felt physically well in the solitary and primitively beautiful place where he’d grown up, where he spent his early childhood. Day after day, he revisited and became reacquainted with every nook and cranny of the tanca. Meanwhile, perched unmoving on his rock, eyes glassy, Elias stared as if captivated by the moon’s sheer splendor, immersed in nebulous visions. It was the same bewilderment, buzzing, and vague dizziness he’d felt that first night of his return, in the little courtyard at home. The soft breeze rustling in the woods, far away, sounded to him like an indistinct voice, sweet one moment, frightening the next. What was it saying? What was the wind saying? What was the forest whispering? Doug Still 36:22 Elias sought answers about what to do about his secret passion from the primal voices of his natural world. You’ll have to read the book to find out how he emerges from his dilemma. But in a general sense, shepherds are emblematic of that part of Sardinia that remains timeless. Tancas have been passed down from generation to generation. Anna Maria informed me that S’Ozzastru and its companion wild olive trees stand in a tanca as well, although this one is now owned by the local municipality. The trees have given shelter to shepherds who fiercely protect the landscape and their way of life. In turn, S’Ozzastru has been protected too. [sound of sheep bells] Time for another short break. [This Old Tree theme music] When we return the question is, will the ancient wild olives survive a new, more insidious threat: the effects of climate change? You’re listening to This Old Tree. Doug Still 37:40 I was going to ask you, have there been any fires through here, low level ground fires? And how does the ground, you know, the field around the trees stay open? Anna Maria Corda 38:08 Well, there haven't been fires here. Well, not to my memory, nor to the memories of people who live here. So I guess I don't know why. How can it be possible? Because in Sardinia, every year has a lot of problem with fires. So maybe, I guess, a bit of luck. Doug Still 38:39 Well, S’Ozzastru and the Millennial Olive Trees of Luras may have been lucky, but the summer of 2021 was not so lucky for a 1,000 yr-old olive tree on the west coast of the island. A dramatic wildfire broke out in the Montiferru area of Oristano Province, forcing inhabitants of the towns of Cuglieri and Scano di Montiferru to flee their homes. 7,500 people from across Sardinia were employed to extinguish the fires, bolstered by planes and helicopters. Over 20,000 hectares burned, causing extensive damage. One of the biggest apparent losses, at least symbolically, was the Millennial Olive Tree of Sa Tanca Manna, a symbol of nearby Cuglieri. We decided to visit the site of the fire, and we were joined by three agronomists from AGRIS, the Agricultural Research Agency of Sardinia. Their names were Marco Campus, Fabio Piras, and Gianluigi Pili. Marco did the interpreting for us. Their jobs as researchers are to provide science and technological innovation to support the farming and forestry sectors. In particular, they are experts on oliviculture. They were kind enough to show us where the famous olive tree stood and talk about what happened. Despite the talk of drought and fires, it was absolutely pouring when we met. The sound you hear is the rain on the umbrellas we squeezed under. (to the AGRIS researchers) We are at the Olivastro di Tanca Manna, the Olive Tree of Tanca Manna, and I am with - could you state your names? Marco Campus 40:19 Yeah, Marco Campus from AGRIS Sardinia. Fabio Piras 40:23 Fabio Piras, AGRIS Sardinia. Gianluigi Pili Gianluigi Pili, AGRIS Sardinia. Doug Still 40:27 Thank you so much for taking us out here today, and unfortunately, we are standing next to a burned tree. You had said that this tree was a becoming a tourist attraction? Marco Campus 40:43 Yeah, the municipality of Cuglieri was trying to use it as a tourist attraction because of the importance of this specimen. It was one of the largest in Sardinia and one of the most visited sites. Here, it was a “topos” in Latin, an important location. Doug Still 41:07 How old do you estimate this tree is? Marco Campus 41:13 Because of the hollow trunk, it's not easy to estimate the actual age, because you can’t count the rings, the growth rings. The circumference was about 10 meters, so it was 16 meters high. Doug Still 41:38 Do you have an estimate? Gianliugi Pili 41:41 (speaking in Italian) Marco Campus 41:44 1000 years old. Maybe millennial, yeah, 1000 years old. Unfortunately, in 2021 there was a huge fire that destroyed 13,000 hectares, mostly olive orchards. And unfortunately, the Olivastro di Tanca Manna, was lost in this fire. Doug Still 42:09 Incredible. It must have been a gorgeous tree, because we can see the remnants of the large branches that fell in a circle all around the center of it. And I will share pictures of it on Instagram. Marco Campus 42:24 Yeah, you can see the original tree, where it was in its full glory. Doug Still 42:28 How did the fire start? Do we know? Marco Campus 42:31 Yeah, the fire started a week before the main fire. It was a fire that was extinguished, but not completely. So the fire restarted. They started from Santo Lussurgio. Doug Still 42:56 And all of these fields must have been on fire. Was it in the summer? Marco Campus 42:59 Yeah, in August. It started in August. (discussion in Italian) No, July, July 2021. Doug Still 43:03 Conditions were dry and hot? Marco Campus Was dry, hot, yeah. Doug Still According to many different climate models, the Mediterranean is considered a climate change “hotspot.” A researcher at MIT says the region will experience “the greatest decline of projected rainfall of any landmass on Earth.” Temperatures have already risen 1.6 degrees Celsius compared to pre-industrial levels, and a rise of 2-3 degrees celsius is predicted by the year 2050. This will mean more extremes in storm-related precipitation as well as the increase of frequency and intensity of drought. The summer of 2021 saw a heatwave that was particularly bad, with record-breaking temperatures in Italy and Spain. Dry conditions caused numerous wildfires, particularly in Italy, Greece, and Turkey. Over 800,000 hectares burned that summer around the Mediterranean, equivalent to 2 million acres or 3,000 square miles. Sardinia was primed for an outbreak. Marco Campus 44:17 There was also strong wind, so it propagated very quickly and in four or five days, all damage was done. Ed Nardell Was life lost? Marco Campus (discussion in Italian) No, no, fortunately, no life lost. Animals, of course, olive orchards and also vineyards and forest trees. The fire reached near the municipality of Cuglieri, and some houses were burned or severely damaged. Doug Still 44:58 Were fires common in Sardinia in the past, historically? Marco Campus 45:04 Yeah, almost every year we have problems with fire. Mainly human… Doug Still 45:11 Okay. Marco Campus 45:16 This particular fire started maybe from a car. It was parked, and the exhaust was very hot, so the straws burnt. Doug Still 45:32 Are olive trees resistant to fire? Marco Campus 45:36 Not all olives are resistant, but in particular ancient specimens, because of the hollow trunk. It's very dry, so they burn easily. So much wide is the tree, and easily it burns. Doug Still 45:59 So there's - there are spaces for the fire to get into the center of the tree where it's dry and old. Marco Campus 46:07 As a natural consequence of the growth of the olive, when the olive becomes very old, though the peripheral parts of the plants survive, it grows bigger and bigger, but the center remains. This is dry, so it burns easily. As you can see, the external parts are all quite, quite, not damaged. But the inside of the trunk was all burned. Doug Still 46:44 It's like a shell. [yeah] So what's being done to save this tree? Marco Campus 46:55 To save the tree, they put a lot of water. They maybe saved the plant, because some sprouts grow from the ground, and.. Doug Still 47:07 You checked for the first sprouts and protected them? Marco Campus 47:10 Yeah, they protect them from weather, from other agents that could potentially damage it. Doug Still Because the root system is still alive. Marco Campus The roots are still alive, yeah, of course, yes. Doug Still 47:22 I've grown a lot of trees from stump sprouts, and they grow fast, actually, once they get going. Marco Campus 47:30 The direct connection with the roots are extensive, and you can see that the dimensions of the higher part of the tree there, it corresponds to the roots. Doug Still 47:47 After the fire, botanists from the University of Caglieri looked closely at the remains of Olivastro di Tanca Manna, and discovered there was still photosynthetic activity below the bark of the stump remains. Botanists from the University of Sassari also got involved, along with volunteers from local villages, and the researchers from AGRIS. A series of measures were taken, including installing drip irrigation, mulch, and shading for the tender new shoots. They are also highly protected. Once signs of life appeared in earnest, they shared the good news with the public. In addition, the various organizations coalesced into a group called the Montiferru Association. Its goal is to support local farmers, restore the olive groves, raise money, and publicize the effort. Marco Campus 48:40 There are two projects going on. One is Olivastri Secolari, the catalog and the maintenance of ancient trees. And the other is Montiferru. That is the recovery of local germ plasma propagation through grafting and rain plantation [sic]. Yeah. It's an initiative from the government of Sardinia, and its main aim was to propagate the local germplasm to make plants fundamentally by grafting, and give these plants to the growers so they can replace the trees they've lost during the fire. [Very nice] Doug Still 49:21 The project “Olivastri Secolari,” which means “ancient olive trees,” blends botany and archaeology to study the history of both millennial cultivated and wild olive trees, including S’Ozzastru and the trees in Luras. More on their work in a bit. But the Montiferru Association is largely involved, of course, with the Progetto di Olivi Montiferru. Marco described it as a way to preserve the germplasm of local olive trees in the Montiferru region. In other words, they aim to perpetuate the genetic legacy of local olive varieties in the wake of this fire, and in preparation for future fires. They carefully track and propagate local varieties through grafting, and then distribute young trees to farmers. These free tree giveaways kicked off in 2025, and farmers had to apply. AGRIS provides technical and administrative support in addition to managing several long term studies. The new groves will be developed for the production of extra virgin olive oil and/or table olives. Ed Nardell How is the market for olives in Sardinia? Marco Campus 50:29 Now it's a small market. But we produce very high quality extra virgin olive oils. You know, the main producer in the Mediterranean basin is Spain, but the quality is not quite the same. Doug Still Better here. Marco Campus Let's say it's easier to make quality when you have small quantities, because you can take care of every aspect of the processing. So we can plan all the spaces and produce very high quality. And we are producing very high quality. They took prizes all over the world. Doug Still 51:14 Marco, Fabio, and Gianluigi wanted to show us their tree nursery and local office, so we decided to get out of the rain and head to their facility in Oristano. There, we met Emanuele Cauli, the horticulturalist who manages the nursery. He brought us inside a giant covered staging area with row upon row of baby olive trees growing in small containers. Some were wild olives. Others were cultivated olives separated by variety, many of them grafted onto the root stock of wild olives to create trees more resilient to drought and diseases. It was really cool to be surrounded by all of these olive trees, and see the results of their hard work. We then sat down in the office to talk more about olive tree research. Emanuele Cauli 52:00 L’olea sylvatico, the old, the wild, olive in Sardinia is an ancient presence. (in Italian…) Marco Campus 52:26 Emanuele is saying that olive is an ancient presence in Sardinia. And as Fabio said, archeological evidence dates back at least 10,000 years, maybe starting from the wild variety. Man has made a selection of the most favorable traits - larger fruits, resistant trees - and so the domestication happened. Specifically, the domestication of olive is “polycentric.” It means that it happened in different locations simultaneously. So maybe some varieties specific to Sardinia were selected locally. Doug Still 53:22 Question for Fabio. There was an article, a paper you published with other co-authors recently about an archeological investigation in Sardinia, where you found and identified ancient fruit stones from olives. Could you describe that study and what some of your findings were? Marco Campus 53:53 (for Fabio Piras) This work deals with some findings in archeological sites where archeologists found ancient olive seeds, and this material was interesting because of the ancient origin. So AGRIS, with University of Cagliari, carried out research on this to find out if there were proximities with local varieties, for example. Fabio Piras 54:27 (in Italian) Marco Campus 54:32 Using image analysis techniques, they put together the morphological data coming from this material and known varieties, in order to find if there were correlations between this ancient material from an archeological point of view, but also for historical studies about domestication. Doug Still 55:04 What was the period that you were studying? Marco Campus Nuragic. Doug Still 55:14 How many varieties of olive trees do you think there are? Marco Campus 55:19 There is a line of research which is carried out specifically by Gianluigi. We are trying to select varieties that spontaneously have grown in the wild, that are potentially new varieties because of this crossing between varieties with wild types. All the genetic work is still to be done. Doug Still 55:57 (to Gianluigi) So should we name it after you? [laughter] Marco Campus 56:03 Yes, “Gianluigi” is the first variety that will be certified. These varieties have been selected by nature. It is very interesting, because potentially they could incorporate genes that are very interesting in the matter of climate change. Also in future scenarios of diseases or pests. Doug Still 56:27 As natives of the island, can you all tell the difference between olive oil made from the different varieties or the wild olive and the grown olives? Marco Campus 56:40 We can say that the same variety grown in different areas gives a different oil. This is because obviously of different soil characteristics, different climates, different rain fed - all these characteristics and microclimates give a different oil. In Montiferru, there are mainly three varieties cultivated. They are the Bosana, the most widespread in all Sardinia that gives a very strong oil with a very spicy, very bitter flavor. Another variety is the Semidana, which gives more equilibrated oil. And another variety that is used both for oil or for table olives, that is Manca, which has different names depending on the size. Doug Still 57:45 In addition to Bosana, Semidana, and Manca - which I believe refers to the producer Domenico Manca that has won multiple awards at the World Olive Oil Competition - Fabio and Gianluigi stated their favorite variety is Nera di Villacidro, which they described as fruity, bitter, and spicy, truly unique. It is an award winning oil too. It turns out, Marco, Fabio, and Gianluigi are official olive oil tasters. They make sure that olive oil produced locally meets the standards of Sardinia’s unique PDO designation, an acronym from the EU meaning “Protected Designation of Origin.” We found this out when they took us out to lunch after our site meeting. Marco demonstrated how to properly taste olive oil using the bottle on the table before us. I wish I had recorded it, but at the time my hands were warming a paper cup of the oil before sipping it into my mouth loudly, with the proper aeration. Marco described the flavor as a combination of artichoke, with notes of tomato plant leaves. I’m not sure I ever would have come up with that, but once he said it I realized he had hit the flavor on the nose. After the wonderful lunch and buzzing on Vermentino, we thanked them profusely for their warm hospitality and conversation. The topic of olive history fills books, and the history is still being written. But, as they say, “All history is local.” So that brings me back to the tanca in Luras with S’Ozzastru and Anna Maria Corda. (to Anna Maria) This tree was the tree of the year in Italy, wasn't it? Anna Maria Corda 59:31 Yes, yeah, it was a competition last year… Doug Still 59:35 …and then it was nominated for the European Tree of the Year, but didn't win. Anna Maria Corda 59:39 It didn't win, no. I guess it was third, I don't remember how it came. Doug Still 59:46 Yeah, and that's how I learned about it. Thankfully, the tree is being looked after by multiple groups, especially people from the University of Sassari. Anna Maria Corda 59:56 Of course, and since the University of Sassari, it's the agronomists, they are always checking that it's in good health. Doug Still 1:00:07 It was they who put in the fence. Anna Maria Corda 1:00:11 Since we started protecting it, well, I have never seen it so beautiful. The foliage is really, really beautiful now. Doug Still 1:00:20 You really saw a response to the fence being built. Anna Maria Corda 1:00:25 Well, yeah, I saw a difference because I was, well, I grew up here. I grew up in this area. I grew up in Luras, so I saw it earlier, before it was fenced. I was one of the kids who approached it and played under it. But maybe it was a problem to grow new branches, new twigs. And there's a big difference - from here, you could see the trunk. You see, now, you cannot see it. Doug Still 1:01:00 So when you were growing up, you could see the trunk from here?! Because now we can't see anything. Anna Maria Corda 1:01:05 Exactly. When I was growing up, when I was a kid, we could approach this tree, we could play under it, and you could see the trunk. Yes, of course. Because maybe for the presence of men, the presence of human people inhibited the growth of other branches. Doug Still 1:01:30 And probably the soil, too, is now protected. Anna Maria Corda Yeah, yeah, exactly. Doug Still What do you love most about it? Anna Maria Corda 1:01:38 Well, I love the country. When I was a little kid, I was often in the country. I played a lot in the country, and I've always known it as a big tree. I had no idea how it could be so old. I like that. You know, some people say trees have some energy, and gives you energy as a gift. So you breathe, breathe good! Oxygen is good here. I've worked in an office before. I work now also as a translator, and I worked with a computer. Doug Still So this is way better. Anna Maria Corda Yeah, I like it so much to be here to talk to people, to talk about the country and the little animals. And I also love caterpillars, though I don't love them… [laughs] Doug Still 1:02:39 …yes, the caterpillars on our arms right now. Well, grazie mille for meeting with me today to talk about S’Ozzastru, the great, the wild olive tree Anna Maria Corda Wild, yeah. [This Old Tree theme music] Doug Still It's absolutely beautiful. Thank you for your time. Anna Maria Corda 1:02:55 And thank you for being here and for choosing to know, to get to know the story, the history. Thank you. Doug Still 1:03:10 Will the olive trees survive? With the efforts being taken, I’m optimistic they will. There’s a saying in Sardu about olive tree longevity. “Su olivu vivit cantu su padronu morit.” The olive tree lives as long as its owner dies. I’ve come up with another saying. “As the olive tree endures, so the Sardinian lives.” [launeddas music] Thank you tree lovers, for joining me to learn about S’Ozzastru - The Great Patriarch Olive Tree of Luras, The Patriarch of Nature, or simply the Wild Olive. I hope all of my Italian and Sardinian pronunciations weren’t too painful for native speakers. I’d like to offer a very warm thank you to Anna Maria Corda for hosting us at Olivastri Millenari di Luras and teaching us all about the famous tree. Also, the dedicated researchers at AGRIS were incredibly generous with their time as well. It was an honor to meet Marco Campus, Fabio Piras, Gianlugi Pili, and Emanuele Cauli on location in Montiferru and Oristano. The unusual and resonant music we’ve been listening to is played by Luigi Lai on the launeddas, an ancient Sardinian reed instrument consisting of three pipes. The Nuraghi played them, as evidenced by a small bronze statuette of a man playing the launeddas found in the archaeological museum in Cagliari. Luigi Lai is a 93 yr-old musician who has dedicated his life to playing this fascinating music and passing it on to later generations. I emailed with him, and he kindly gave permission to use his recordings for this episode. The vocals are contributed by a group called “Su Dillu,” whose pastoral songs in the “Cantu a tenore” tradition constitute some of the most ancient polyvocal music in the Mediterranean area. Thank you Luigi and Su Dillu, for sharing your music. The sensitive reading from the novel Elias Portolu was contributed by Manuela Buonanno, and thanks to Kevan Houser for sharing his translation. The show’s theme music is by Dee Lee. I’ll post pictures of S’Ozzatru, the Olivastro di Tanca Manna, and our guests on Facebook and Instagram in the coming weeks. The show website is thisoldtree.show, where you can find more information and the show transcript. I’m Doug Still, and you’ve been listening to This Old Tree. Until next time! This Old Tree with Doug Still
The Ginkgo at Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple - Transcript Season 3, Episode 1 May 19, 2025 Doug Still 00:00 You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still. You may already be familiar with photos online of one particular, astonishing ginkgo tree. Every fall, images of this tree go viral, likely captured by a drone. It stands alone in a courtyard, towering over a compound of one story structures like a dyed stick of rock candy. The ginkgo’s upright shape blazes yellow against the green hillside behind it. The ground below is just as eye-catching. A carpet of golden leaves sprays outward from the tree, dusting the earth with pure heavenly light. It's a stunning annual display from this 1,400 year old organism, now shared around the world through the internet. [Tang Dynasty folk music] Arguably, the tree has become the most famous Ginkgo biloba in the world, and yet most of us outside of China know absolutely nothing about it, except its image. Yes, it's in China. And here are some basic, easily searchable facts. The tree is housed within the Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple located in the mountains on the outskirts of the city of Xi’an in the country's Northwest interior. The temple was built in the year 628, at the beginning of the reign of Li Shimin, otherwise known as Emperor Taizong of Tang. It was the beginning of the Tang Dynasty, considered to be a golden age in Chinese history. Legend has it that the tree was planted within the temple by Emperor Taizong himself, one of the country's most revered leaders. Who was he and could it be true? Why a ginkgo tree? To find the answers to these questions, I interviewed a professor from Xi’an, Dr Ruihong Di of Northwest University. She is an expert on the early Tang Dynasty and Buddhism in China. I also learned about some of the remarkable history of Ginkgo biloba from botanist Peter Del Tredici, former senior research scientist at the Arnold Arboretum in Boston. Ginkgo is one of the oldest surviving tree species in the world, dating back almost 250 million years. But it was nearly lost. Did Buddhist monasteries in China preserve this ancient species from extinction? And one last treat for you. There are different takes on this ginkgo tree’s legend. We'll hear a related Chinese tale that includes Emperor Taizong, a fortune telling sorcerer, and a dragon. So join me to investigate the legend of the Ginkgo at Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. This Old Tree song - Dee Lee 02:58 Doug Still 03:17 The Traditional Folk Tale of Gu Guanyin Temple, part one. [Tang Dynasty folk music] Traditional Tale of Gu Guanyin Temple 03:25 Rich farmland surrounded the great City of Chang’an, from the Jinghe River down to the Zhongnan mountains. However, a terrible drought had stricken the land, causing great concern among farmers and the people of the region. Propitiously, a local deity had the power to change the weather and the fortunes of the people. He was known as the Dragon King of the Jinghe River. He had command over bodies of water, and was the dispenser of rain. However, he could not act without imperial decree from the Jade Emperor, the greatest of primordial gods. But the Dragon King of the Jinghe River had other concerns. He had heard from his spies that a certain sorcerer named Yuan Tiangang was tipping off local fishermen about where the fish were in the Jinghe River, threatening the stability of life in the river. The Dragon King transformed himself into a human and walked into the center of Chang’an to find Yuan Tiangan and confront him. The Dragon King found the sorcerer Yuan Tiangan, who was fortune-telling in the streets. He could have easily killed him, but instead tried to find out if he could be of more use to the Dragon King. In disguise, he offered the sorcerer a bet. He could reap great rewards if he could predict the Jade Emperor’s decree regarding the arrival of much needed rain, but punishment if he could not. As the rain was actually controlled by the Dragon King, he felt he could discredit him if it came to that. Yuan Tiangan accepted the bet and made his rain prediction. Later, the Dragon King received the Jade Emperor's official rain decree, and to his surprise and dismay it exactly matched the sorcerer’s prediction. The Dragon King didn’t want to lose, and took a chance. Thinking the Jade Emperor wouldn’t notice, the Dragon King secretly changed the amount and timing of the rain. He then went back to Chang’an to tell the sorcerer he was wrong. Unfortunately for the Dragon King, Yuan Tiangan saw through the Dragon King’s human disguise and knew it was him all along. He had tricked him. He informed the Dragon King that he had violated the Jade Emperor’s decree, and that he would soon be arrested and killed. Defeated, the Dragon King threw himself at the sorcerer’s mercy. Yuan Tiangan was moved, and foretold that his arrest was going to be made by Wei Zheng, the Prime Minister to Li Shimin, the new Emperor Taizong of Tang. He told him that he must appeal to Emperor Taizong himself. Doug Still 06:51 The Ginkgo at Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple is a tourist magnet. Tens of thousands of tree lovers make their way to see it during peak foliage season each year, sometimes as many as 3,000 per day. People might wait in the queue for three hours, the line forming outside before it snakes through the temple. Eventually, visitors enter a courtyard with the golden ginkgo tree, moving slowly and reverently around a rectangular fence installed to protect the tree from the crowds. It's worth it, not only for the visual drama, but to share a few moments with something very, very old, but still living, associated with the great emperor Taizong. Who was Li Shimin, and what do we know about him? It turns out a lot. To get a look back 1,400 years to the beginning of the Tang Dynasty and just before it, I spoke with Professor Ruihong Di who teaches locally in Xi’an, China. Although she understands English, she wished to speak in Mandarin, so her answers are translated via Google Translate and overdubbed here. Apologies in advance for any inexact pronunciations. We did our best. Thank you so much for joining me for an interview on This Old Tree. Ruihong Di 08:16 Very happy, very happy. I'm happy to answer your questions. Doug Still 08:19 How long have you been studying Buddhism in the time of the Tang Dynasty, and what are your specific interests? Ruihong Di 08:30 I started studying Buddhist history about 11 years ago, and I started researching Tang Dynasty Buddhism eight years ago. Doug Still 08:42 And now you're teaching at the University of Arizona for one year? Ruihong Di 08:48 Yes, I am going to do research in the religious studies department at the University of Arizona. Doug Still 08:57 How long had Buddhism been in China? When was it first introduced? Ruihong Di 09:06 According to current academic research, when did Buddhism enter China? It was probably during the Eastern Han Dynasty and the Western Han dynasty, which is more than 2,000 years ago. My research mainly focuses on the belief in Buddhism among the city and government officials in the Tang Dynasty. Did they believe in Buddhism? What influence did Buddhism have on them? Because this group of people held power, they would greatly influence the culture of the society at that time and the formulation of policies, and they would also have a deep influence on the Buddhist community. So I mainly studied Buddhist teaching and its influence on this group of civil servants and government officials. Doug Still 09:51 I asked about the origins of the Tang Dynasty and how Li Shimin came to power. Ruihong Di 10:00 The first ruler of the Tang Dynasty was Li Yuan, who overthrew the rule of the Sui Dynasty. Then he established the Tang Dynasty. He was known as Emperor Gaozu of Tang. Li Yuan was the father of Li Shimin, yes, yes, yes, yes. It was Li Yuan who supervised them in Xi’an, it was called Chang'an at that time, that is the ancient name of Xi’an. Doug Still 10:28 For context later, here's some background about China just prior to the Tang Dynasty. The Sui Dynasty, ruled by Emperor Yang, was disintegrating under the weight of heavy taxation and other trials. There were costly wars, like one waged on the Korean peninsula. The burden was compounded by the need to fund overly ambitious construction projects. Emperor Yang moved the capital from Xi’an, then known as Chang'an, to another city called Luoyang, over 200 miles away based on the advice of a fortune teller. In order to connect the two cities, they undertook the construction of the Grand Canal, an extension of the Great Wall. This had a human toll, as masses groaned under the work, and thus a political one as well. With multiple pressures, the Emperor's administration splintered, culminating with the Emperor's assassination in 618 by one of his ministers. Open conflict broke out between factions vying for the throne. One faction was the house of Tang, led by Li Yuan. Li Yuan was an aristocrat, and he was Li Shimin’s father. Li Shimin, only in his early 20s, became his father's chief general due to his talent and ambition. After three years of bloody turmoil, Li Shimin led his father's army to victory, and Li Yuan became the emperor - Emperor Gaozu he was called. But this wasn't over. The Emperor's power hungry sons battled each other to be first in line. Li Shimin outmaneuvered them too, ultimately killing his two brothers. The ruthless fratricide would come to weigh on him greatly later in life. Soon after, his father Li Yuan abdicated and Li Shimin became emperor Taizong of Tang. Much of this history I'm sharing I credit to The Ruler's Guide: China's Greatest Emperor and His Timeless Secrets of Success by Chinghua Tang. But what kind of an emperor would Li Shimin be? Was Emperor Taizong considered a good ruler? What is he most known for? Ruihong Di 12:45 Yes, Li Shimin is currently considered to be a very great emperor and ruler in Chinese history. The main reason is that he implemented a very enlightened governance policy which gave the Tang Dynasty a very good start. The development of the Tang Dynasty after the initial founding was closely related to these policies implemented by Li Shimin, the Emperor Taizong of Tang. Therefore, he laid the foundation for the cultural inclusiveness of the entire Tang Dynasty, its economic, cultural and political prosperity and development. He was also the most important reason why the tang Empire became a great empire that attracted the attention of the whole world. The Zhenguan Reign was the era in which Li Shimin was in power. The era name is what we Chinese use to refer to the period of time when an emperor was in power. The reign title at that time was Zhenguan, and it lasted for nearly 30 years, or 29 years, if I remember correctly. The Zhenguan Reign is considered to be the period in the Tang Dynasty when the economy developed most rapidly, and the politics were most enlightened. Doug Still 14:05 But in the early years of his reign, it was unclear how Li Shimin would respond after the violence and turmoil of his ascension to the throne. The inexperienced, young emperor grappled with his newfound power. Imperial historians wrote that he wished for peace and stability for the Chinese people and perhaps some redemption for himself. He sought answers to questions like, what makes a good emperor? What did good government look like? How could he avoid the mistakes of the previous rulers? Who could he trust? Very early on, Li Shimin assembled a team of advisors. To this day, he is famous for his philosophy surrounding the guidance from his gifted ministers. In contrast to the Sui rulers, Emperor Taizong knew that in order to receive the best advice, those close to him must speak their minds and contradict him when necessary. This frank openness brought humility and self knowledge. A court historian was charged with recording the conversations between the Emperor and his ministers, which became known as the “Zhenghuang Executive Guide,” a classic text on leadership and statecraft throughout the following millennia, and to this day. The most important confidant of all was a man named Wei Zheng, a figure in the folktale we are listening to. Ruihong Di 15:35 Wei Zhang was one of the people appointed by Li Shimin at that time. According to today's understanding, he should be called the Prime Minister, which means that his official position is very, very high. He is also considered by us to be a very great politician and thinker in Chinese history. He was a writer and historian, but his main contribution is in politics. Then, what about him? We Chinese attach great importance to the writing of history. So in the early days of Li Shimin's reign, Wei Zheng was appointed to be in charge of writing the history of the previous generation. So at that time, Wei Zheng was in charge of compiling historical books such as Sui Shu, or the book of Sui, the previous dynasty. So while he was primarily a politician, he was also a historian. He had a huge influence on Taizong, because he was quite direct in his speech. He was able to give Taizong some suggestions which were quite skillful, and Taizong would listen to him. He would also correct some of Taizong’s inappropriate practices. Then what? This allowed Tang Taizong to have a more clear political policy. Doug Still 16:55 An entire episode could be devoted to Wei Zheng. His approach, and that of the emperor, was largely Taoist in philosophy, or at least the histories painted it as such. Emperor Taizong was not Buddhist. Buddhism was a religion from India that had grown within all social classes for centuries in China by this time. So if our famous ginkgo tree was planted in a Buddhist temple, how does Buddhism fit into the legend of Emperor Taizong and a ginkgo tree? What were Tang Taizong’s views on Buddhism as a young emperor? Ruihong Di 17:36 Emperor Taizong’s policy toward Buddhism in his early years was relatively positive. However, in the early days of his reign, his policy towards Buddhism was to approach it very cautiously. To maintain his rule the state strictly controlled the religion. There is a lot of research in the academic community that proves that Emperor Taizong of Tang’s policy toward Buddhism had two sides. On the one hand, he wanted to take advantage of the status of Buddhism in the whole society, because Buddhism has many believers and followers. Embracing Buddhism helped stabilize the entire society. But he was also afraid that Buddhism would become too powerful and affect his rule, so he had to restrict the development of Buddhism. This is what Li Shimin did in the early days. For example, if an ordinary person wanted to become a monk, he needed to get a permit from the government. At that time, the government had to give him a policy so he can become a monk, or bhikkhu or bhikkhuni. This limited the number of monks in a temple in each state to a certain number, which was a very strict policy. Doug Still 18:54 Despite its popularity, Emperor Taizong did not view Buddhism as truly Chinese. Within the context of Chinese history, Emperor Taizong was not alone in his distrust of Buddhism and its power over the people. Periods of peaceful acceptance through the centuries were interrupted with periodic purging and destruction of Buddhist temples, including a severe crackdown 300 years later at the end of the Tang Dynasty. Even while researching this story, I found that history repeats itself. I learned that the Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple that stands today is not the original. It was rebuilt in the 1990s and had been serving as a school prior to its restoration by Buddhist monks. I searched everywhere online about what had happened to the temple previously, but could find nothing in print. I later learned from Professor Di that the temple had been destroyed in 1949 during the Chinese Revolution. Apparently, the carnage did not include the ancient ginkgo tree. Could anyone soften Emperor Taizong's wary and strict view of Buddhism? Enter Xuanzang, possibly the most famous Buddhist in Chinese history. But you'll find out what happened later in the episode. First, I'd like to take a close look at a different part of the story, the ginkgo tree itself. I'll share my conversation with Peter Del Tredici of Arnold Arboretum, who has spent his life studying Ginkgo biloba. He sheds some light on the ecological history of this remarkable tree species and its existence, both inside and outside of temples in China. What is it about a ginkgo that makes it a special tree for important places? [This Old Tree theme music] Coming up after the break. You're listening to This Old Tree. The Traditional Folk Tale of Gu Guanyin Temple, part two. [Tang Dynasty folk music] Traditional Tale of Gu Guanyin Temple 21:05 At the time, Emperor Taizong, Li Shimin, led Prime Minister Wei Zheng and 18 guards to hunt in the Zhongnan mountains. One night he had a dream. In the dream, the Dragon King of Jinghe River begged him for his life. Li Shimin was moved, and promised to spare his life. He promised not to let Wei Zheng proceed to the Southern Heavenly Gate, the gateway connecting the mortal world to the heavenly realm. This way, Wei Zheng would not receive his instructions from the Jade Emperor to arrest and kill the Dragon King. After waking up, he saw clouds and mist in the mountains, and also a fresh spring gushing out of a stone cave. He drank water from the spring which he thought was very sweet. He named it “the divine spring.” That same night, Prime Minister Wei Zheng got drunk and dreamed that he went to the Southern Heavenly Gate. where he received orders from the Jade Emperor. Acting on them, he beheaded the Dragon King of Jinghe River. The dragon’s head was thrown to the north of Chang’an City, and it turned into what became known as “Dragon Head Plain". The dragon tail, which was 18 feet long, was abandoned to the west of Chang’an City and became the “18 Foot Ditch.” After this dream of beheading and killing the Dragon King, Wei Zheng was so frightened that he broke out in a cold sweat. He reported this to Emperor Taizong. Emperor Taizong was also shocked and said, “I too dreamt of a green dragon. He begged me for help the other day, and I promised to stop you from going to the Southern Heavenly Gate. I secretly ordered the 18 guards not to let you leave. Now I have broken my promise to the green dragon. What should I do?” Doug Still 23:22 Peter Del Tredici is a horticulturalist and a botanist who has worked for Harvard University since 1972 both at the Harvard forest and at Arnold Arboretum in Boston. At the arboretum, he worked his way through multiple roles as the assistant plant propagator; curator of the Lars Anderson Bonsai Collection; editor of Arnoldia, the Arboretum's distinguished journal; Director of Living Collections; and Senior Research Scientist. Over the past 15 years, his work has focused on urban ecology and the important role that plants play in making cities more livable. To wide acclaim, he's published two editions of his book, Wild Urban Plants of the Northeast: A Field Guide. And in 2013, Peter was awarded the prestigious Veatch Gold Medal by the Royal Horticultural Society in the UK in recognition of services given in the advancement of the science and practice of horticulture. Peter, thanks for joining me today on This Old Tree. Peter Del Tredici My pleasure. Doug Still How were you first drawn to the study of ginkgo trees, and is there a word for that? Peter Del Tredici 24:31 Ginkologist? I don't know… Doug Still Are you a Ginkologist? Peter Del Tredici …or Ginkgo ologist? I'm not sure exactly. [laughter] I don't refer to that. But I am, you know, when I first started working at the Arnold Arboretum, I wrote my first article about Ginkgo biloba in 1981 and the history of its introduction into the United States, to North America. I should say, then - when I went to graduate school - I took an evolution course. I had to write a paper from for the evolution course. And I decided, well, I'm going to write something about Ginkgo biloba. And then one thing led to another, and it became the subject of my PhD research. And the topic that I selected was I wanted to look at Ginkgo biloba growing as a wild plant in China, to study ginkgo in Asia. It was in 1989. Doug Still 25:28 That sounds so exciting. Peter Del Tredici 25:30 It was pretty exciting because it happened right after, you know, just about two or three months after the Tiananmen Square demonstrations. And so there weren't a lot of tourists going to China then, but I needed to go to finish my PhD, so I talked to my collaborator. He said, “Absolutely, we want you to come. We don't want people to be boycotting us, because then the government can do whatever they want. We want people to come to China, and that would be good for us.” So that was enough. Doug Still 26:01 What was your main research question? Peter Del Tredici 26:03 Well, my main research question - one of the debates was - is ginkgo, does it still exist as a wild tree, or does it only exist in cultivation? And a lot of the early scientists at the Arnold Arboretum, the Director Sargent and the collector E.H. Wilson said it was preserved from extinction by being cultivated in temples in Asia. And that didn't quite make a lot of sense to me, and there really wasn't any literature about it. There were some mentions of areas where ginkgo might be wild, but nothing was published about it, at least not in English. And so I got a grant to go to China and to actually visit one of these sites which, supposedly, was one of the areas where ginkgo grows as a wild tree. Doug Still 26:54 How did you hear about that area? Peter Del Tredici 26:55 Well, that area, there was a Chinese botanist who was a director of the Morris Arboretum in Philadelphia, and he had grown up in China, and he had access to the Chinese literature. And he mentioned that this was one of the sites that the Chinese had identified as a possible homeland for Ginkgo biloba. Doug Still 27:17 I see, that makes sense. Was it also near a temple? Or, probably, everything is near a temple. Peter Del Tredici 27:24 Yes, there's a temple right there, and it's a little bit of a chicken and or the egg question, because, you know, did they put the temple there because there was a forest that was in good shape there, or did the fact that the temple was there, is that act to preserve the forest? So it's hard to say exactly which came first, the forest or the temple. Doug Still 27:45 Exciting research, and can it be found? You know, did you publish from that? Peter Del Tredici 27:51 I did. I published my, you know, an article. I had two Chinese collaborators with me who helped me with the research. And you know, help me make 1989 it was hard for foreigners to get around China without having a collaborator, so we published an article in conservation biology in 1992 describing what we found in the forest surrounding on this mountain called Tian Musan. Doug Still 28:20 So what is it about ginkgo taxonomy that makes it unique? And how would you describe it? Peter Del Tredici 28:28 Well, ginkgo is one of these amazing trees that dates back to, you know, even before the dinosaurs. There are the ancestors of ginkgo. And there's, it has no living relatives. It's sort of, it's related to conifers from an evolutionary point of view, and it's related to another group of plants called cycads. But it's sort of in-between the conifers and the cycads, and all of its relatives went extinct as it happens with so many organisms from that era. But ginkgo, for some reason, managed to survive, and that became, you know, what is it about ginkgo that allowed it to survive when all of its relatives went extinct? Doug Still 29:12 Amazing. What do you think the answer is? Peter Del Tredici 29:16 Well, that was one of the most interesting things about my research, is that when I actually visited this forest, we found almost 200 trees growing in the woodlands. There were some near the temple, growing not too far from where the temple was. But then in the woods quite away from the temple, there were quite a few ginkgos growing in association with a lot of very old trees. So as far as I was concerned, it was pretty much a remnant of a wild forest. And that quite a number of the trees - I forget the actual number - a lot of them were single stem trees, pretty big, tall, growing on Steam. Deep slopes where nobody would have planted them, but a lot of were multi stemmed, and maybe somebody had cut them down, or maybe there'd been some damage from landslides or something like that. But they have that they had sprouted from the base, which is not something that I had seen much of when looking at the tree as a cultivated plant in North America. I'm used to seeing it as a single stem tree. And so, because I'm a plant morphologist, I was interested in, what's the morphological origin of these stems? And I came to realize that ginkgo, when you grow it as a seedling, it has this capacity to form a swollen base. It's called a lignotuber, and if you damage the main trunk, it sends up new shoots from the base. So this ability to re sprout, which is there aren't a lot of conifers that can do that, so it's one of the things that allows ginkgo to survive traumatic disturbance, and I suspect that ginkgo invented this strategy of being able to sprout and which allowed it to persist once it got established. And the longer a tree lives, the greater the chances of it being able to reproduce from seed eventually. So from an evolutionary point of view, if you expand the lifespan of the individual, you increase the chances of successful reproduction from seed. Doug Still 31:25 Also, the fact that it was on a slope. You know, a lot of old growth remnants are on slopes because they just weren't cut down for agriculture or anything like that. So that makes sense. Peter Del Tredici 31:36 Yes, and it was steep slopes. They weren't just, you know. And ginkgo was growing in areas where there'd been some land disturbance, and they were clearly not planted by anybody there. Doug Still 31:50 So you mentioned ginkgo as a conifer. I know it's a gymnosperm. It's a gymnosperm, right? Peter Del Tredici Exactly. Doug Still Is it a conifer? Peter Del Tredici 32:01 No, it's in between the cycads and the conifers. So, it has, the wood is very similar to the wood of conifers, but its reproductive system is totally - it's like the cycad reproductive system. So it has attributes of both of these groups. Doug Still 32:17 Right, which is a naked seed, not a covered seed. Peter Del Tredici 32:20 Well, it's not really a naked seed. That's what the word gymnosperm means. It just doesn't mean it has a fruit. If you call it the ginkgo nuts that are, you know, those are - that's the whole seed, the thing that falls from the tree. It's got a fleshy covering, but that's not technically naked. Doug Still 32:40 Got it. It gets confusing. Peter Del Tredici It is confusing. (chuckling) Doug Still Yes, so how far back in time are ginkgos found in the fossil record? Peter Del Tredici 32:53 Well, the distant ancestors of ginkgo go back 170 million years or so. The genus ginkgo, that is related to which, you could say, are the closest relatives of the modern Ginkgo biloba, that goes back about 120 million years ago. [Wow] You know, that's when you could say, oh, this is when the genus ginkgo, as we know it today, first made its appearance. And the leaves were very similar to the modern ginkgo, but the fruits were much smaller, and they were not - they had two ovules per peduncle, it's called - so the arrangement of the seeds, that's when that evolved, 120 million years ago. But they were much smaller than the seeds that are produced by the modern Ginkgo biloba. Doug Still 33:49 Were ginkgoes spread across the northern hemisphere? Peter Del Tredici 33:53 Absolutely, there were quite a few. There's a ginkgo petrified forest in Central Washington, Vantage Washington, and it's an amazing place. You have all these big old ginkgo logs that are petrified on the ground. And it was not on the east coast of North America, but it was definitely in the west coast and central North America, and then in Europe as well. Doug Still 34:19 Well, they're here now. [laughter] Where do ginkgos naturally thrive? How do we know what a ginkgo forest might have looked like? Peter Del Tredici 34:31 Well, I visited three different locations in China where there are these remnant ginkgo forests. And you can see that ginkgo is growing next to the massive yew trees. And, you know, the trees in the surrounding forests are huge, and they're very diverse. They're not planted forests or anything like that. They're wild forests, but they're surrounded by agriculture, and they're just these little remnant patches of, you know, 10 or 20 acres, because all the land in China is on these steep slopes, it's terraced. But then there are certain areas that are, they just didn't bother terracing them. They're too steep. And the forests were preserved. So you can see ginkgo growing as part of these remnant forests there, along with Liquidambar and some amazing trees. But they're tiny little patches, [yeah] and there are no temples around them necessarily, in these areas in central China where I've also visited. Doug Still 35:31 It must be really cool to see it in the wild. I would love that. Peter Del Tredici 35:35 It is. These are known as ethnic minority areas. They're not settled by the Han, the people that make up the majority of the Chinese population. They were settled by people from Southeast Asia more, and so they had no tradition of using ginkgo. So when they settled the area, they just left the ginkgo there. That's kind of amazing to see that. So there's a big cultural aspect to this too. Doug Still I have a question regarding pests and diseases, because there really aren't any that we know of that drastically affect ginkgo trees. Peter Del Tredici Well, there are a few, actually. When you grow up to 10 million of them in South Carolina, you find some of the - a few insects spread from the cotton and the soybeans. Doug Still 36:21 If you've got a monoculture, things develop. Peter Del Tredici 36:25 Yeah, and in China, there are a few pests and diseases, but none of them are very serious. So generally in the literature, people say, well, ginkgo just outlasted all of its pests and pathogens. And the ginkgo compounds that are, you know, make it a useful medicinal plant also inhibit insect feeding. So the production of these medicinal compounds is probably associated with a form of protection against pests and pathogens. Doug Still I see, I was going to ask you about that. Peter Del Tredici They don't just do it to protect people. Doug Still 37:03 Right, right, to sell on health food store shelves and things like that. I wanted to ask you about monasteries, because the subject, obviously of this story, features a ginkgo tree in a monastery [okay] or a Buddhist temple. Why were ginkgo trees planted in monasteries and in temples? Peter Del Tredici 37:23 Well, you know, as I said earlier, early American and European scientists who visited Asia - Japan, Korea and China - the biggest ginkgo trees they saw were in temples. And so they said, “Well, this is how ginkgo was saved.” They didn't visit any of these remnant forests that I talked about. And so, one thing that's really interesting is inside the smelly seed. Ginkgo seeds don't smell very good, as a lot of people know, but inside is an edible nut. And the earliest references to ginkgo are about its seeds. And the fact is, that that way, it was an important food plant. And so it was probably preserved because it was a food plant, but the Chinese recognized that it was an unusual tree. There's something special about it. It had a very limited distribution in China. It was not common - now it is, because it's planted everywhere - but these remnant forests are scattered along the valley of the Yangtze River. But they're scattered over a long distance, and for whatever reason, and I can't answer your question of why they chose to plant that in association with the temples, but they nevertheless did that. First in China, and then when the Chinese, you know, when Buddhism moved to - and Taoism - moved to other parts of Asia, Korea and Japan, the monks from China - who are responsible for bringing those religions to those countries - they brought the gingko tree with them. And so, associated with the building of the temples was the planting of the ginkgo trees. Now it's hard, there's no evidence for this, but that's the speculation. Doug Still 39:21 So, a food source. But also there's something special and unique about it that made people feel something. Peter Del Tredici 39:27 Yes, and it's a special tree, and it became associated with the establishment of these temples. Particularly in Japan, when Buddhism spread in Japan, the temple planting with the ginkgo trees. And Korea as well, Doug Still 39:44 and also, probably just their shape is conducive to being inside a structure because they're tall. They’re tall and narrow. Peter Del Tredici 39:52 And they're tolerant of all sorts of conditions, and they live for… a lot of the oldest ginkgos in - and certainly in Japan and Korea - are associated with temples. Doug Still 40:02 So people do eat the nuts? Peter Del Tredici 40:07 Absolutely, that's a big business in Asia producing ginkgo nuts. Doug Still 40:11 Do you know what some of the delicacies are? What do they make from it? Peter Del Tredici 40:15 Oh you can, well, you sort of pan fry them, and you can mix them with rice. They're a little bit toxic, so you're not supposed to ever eat more than five at one time. Or some people say seven at one time. Doug Still 40:30 More than seven and you're feeling it. [laughter] Peter Del Tredici 40:34 Well, it's a special thing. So in Japan, they boil them in sugar, so they're a little bit sweet. They have the texture of a chestnut. But you take them, they serve you after dinner, and it counteracts the effects of drinking too much alcohol. So that's the tradition in Japan. Doug Still 40:54 I see, oh, I didn't know that. Thank you. When was the tree named? Peter Del Tredici 40:58 That was named by Linnaeus. And they, the British, changed it because they didn't like the fact that it was not an English word. And they called it the Maidenhair Tree. I can't remember the Latin name that they use for it, but it took a long time to settle it. Ginkgo was the appropriate name for it. Doug Still 41:21 Yeah, nobody really calls it the Maidenhair tree. Well, sometimes, sometimes. Peter Del Tredici 41:26 Well, that’s because the shape of the leaf is like the leaf produced by the maidenhair fern. Doug Still 41:32 Nice try. Nice try. It is hard to remember, though, does the “K” come before the “G” or the “G” before the “K”? I sometimes make typos. Speaker 2 41:41 Yeah, “Gink-go.” Doug Still 41:45 I think that ginkgo trees are one of the most popular trees. You know, you could just be a casual tree advocate, and people just love ginkgo trees and the shape of the leaves and decorative items from ginkgos. What do you think it is about ginkgos that captures the imagination? Peter Del Tredici 42:03 Well, for one thing, you know, they're easy to recognize. There's nothing else that looks like a ginkgo tree. It's not like a cherry tree or an oak tree that you know, there's a lot of different kinds of oak trees, and telling them apart is a challenge for most people. But the ginkgo, there's only one species. So even the most botanically illiterate person in New York City, where ginkgo is very common, everybody recognizes the ginkgo. And when they turn that bright yellow in the fall, it's hard to miss them. And so you're completely right. It is. It's a tree that everybody recognizes, and it's become super popular, I'd say, over the last 20 years, because it's not invasive. It doesn't spread and take over. And if you plant it, and it's tolerant of a wide range of ecological conditions, it will survive. So if conditions are really bad, it grows very slowly, but if conditions are good, it will grow very quickly so it can adapt to the resources that are available on the sites where it is planted. And it's amazingly tolerant of urban conditions, absolutely. Doug Still 43:13 And I think people secretly love to hate the smelly fruit. You know, people always bring that up with me, but they're smiling and seem happy. It's a contradiction. Now, for the most part, because of the seeds, male ginkgos are primarily what you can get from nurseries. You buy the male so that the fruit doesn't drop on sidewalks. But occasionally I'll get someone that asks for a female ginkgo tree, and that makes me happy for some reason, that somebody values that. Peter Del Tredici 43:48 Well, in Asia, what's interesting is they selectively plant the female trees. They don't selectively plant the male trees because they want the nuts. And people, if you have a female tree that's shedding its seeds, people will always come and pick them up and harvest them. Doug Still 44:04 What is it about ginkgo trees that fascinates you the most and has kept you going all these years studying Ginkgo biloba? Peter Del Tredici 44:12 Well, everything, because ginkgo doesn't have any relatives from a botanical point of view, everything about it is unique. And so every time I do any research project on Ginko biloba, I discover something unusual. So it's just a totally fascinating tree. And this whole question of, “Why does it still exist when all of its relatives have gone extinct?” is a really interesting question. And because I've been working on ginkgo so long, I keep learning stuff about the tree that I never realized. Doug Still 44:50 Well, it's fascinating. I'll include links to some of your work in the show notes so people can read more. Thank you so much for joining me. I learned a lot about ginkgos, and it was such an enjoyable talk. Peter Del Tredici 45:04 Well, it's a pleasure. I'm glad I can be of service to you in this, but it's an amazing tree, and the more I study it, the more fascinating it becomes. Doug Still 45:16 We’re going to take another short break. When we come back, I'll continue my conversation with Professor Ruihong Di about Buddhism in the early Tang Dynasty. A monk shifts Emperor Taizong’s view of this gentle religion. Could this have led to the planting of a ginkgo tree at Gu Guanyin Temple in the Zhongnan Mountains near Chang'an, aka Xian? [This Old Tree theme music] This is, This Old Tree. [Tang Dynasty folk music] Here is part three of the Traditional Folk Tale of Gu Guanyin Temple. We left off with both Wei Zheng and Emperor Taizong in a fright. Both had very real sounding dreams. Wei Zheng had killed the green dragon of the Jinghe River due to its misdeeds, but the emperor had broken his promise to the dragon to save it, a source of shame and anxiety. He asked what he should do. Traditional Tale of Gu Guanyin Temple 46:14 Minister Xu Maogong, a trusted general, said to him, “Guanyin Bodhisattva specializes in helping the poor and the needy and saving all living beings. As long as you make sincere offerings to Guanyin Bodhisattva, you can resolve your problems.” Emperor Taizong took Xu Magong’s advice. He remembered the “divine spring” and thought it was auspicious because it came out of the Zhongnan mountain. So he built a Guanyin Hall in honor of Guanyin Bodhisattva and to dispel the hatred from the affair. After the Guanyin Hall was built, Guanyin Bodhisattva appeared in Taizong’s dream and said, “I have sprinkled nectar on the body of the Green Dragon to revive it, but it has committed a crime against the Heavenly Power. Therefore I have shrunk its body to 3 feet and put it in the Shenquan Cave on Zhongnan Mountain.” The eighteen guards of Emperor Taizong were required to become monks to guard the Shenquan Cave to prevent the Green Dragon from coming out of the cave and cause trouble again. Later, the eighteen monks guarding the cave achieved the status of Arhats, which means they achieved enlightenment. Additionally, two generals, Qin Shubao and Yuchi Gong, were selected to guard the palace gate in Chang’an. The two generals guarding the palace gate became folk gods of doors, and the emperor ordered their images to be installed permanently at the imperial gate. And soon after, a ginkgo tree grew over the Shenquan Cave, where Guanyin blesses people with longevity and happiness to this day. Doug Still 48:23 In our talk together, Professor D spoke about Emperor Taizong's concerns toward the end of his life. Certainly, a priority was promoting the safety of the Empire and its long term survival. But his thoughts also contemplated his own mortality. The teachings of Buddhism started to look more appealing. He became curious about the rising star of a contemporary figure named Xuanzang. Ruihong Di 48:50 But in the later part of his life, his attitude toward Buddhism changed drastically. In the later period of his reign, he made certain adjustments to this policy after being influenced by Tang Xuanzang, a great monk in Chinese history who went to India to seek Buddhist scriptures. Doug Still 49:10 Xuanzang was born in 602 near Luoyang. Throughout his young life, he read religious texts and studied Buddhism. In his mid 20s, the scholarly young monk found his way to Chang'an, where the new emperor Taizong ruled after bringing the capital back from Luoyang. Xuanzang was very concerned about the Buddhist scriptures that were currently in China at the time, which were often translated poorly and were sometimes contradictory. He developed the idea to journey to India to seek out original texts in Sanskrit to find a better understanding of Buddhist teachings. However, Emperor Taizong forbade Xuanzang's proposed visit to India on the grounds of national security. Most foreign travel was not allowed. The passionate Xuanzang left anyway. He hid in the Gobi Desert for a while, eventually making his way to the western frontier, where the Silk Road continued west towards Central Asia. He exited through the famed Yangguan Pass and made the long, dangerous journey to India. Myths and legends surround his adventures during the 17 year journey to India and back. Xuanzang dictated an account of his time in India to a disciple, and that narrative still exists. Nine centuries later, in the 16th century, a famous novel called Journey to the West was written by Wu Cheng’en that further immortalized Xuanzang in Chinese history. He traveled throughout India and stayed at Buddhist monasteries and met important people. He absorbed the culture and learned from Indian monks firsthand. He returned to China in 645, with hundreds of Indian texts in Sanskrit to be translated. They were to have a large influence on Buddhism in China. Not only that, but the story of Xuanzang pilgrimage spread across the realm. He returned somewhat of a celebrity. His law breaking departure had been forgotten. And Emperor Taizong wanted to see him. Ruihong Di 51:23 At the beginning, we know that as an emperor and ruler, Emperor Taizong of Tang had to govern the entire country. At that time, he also hoped to expand his power and expand the scope of governance in the country. What Li Shimin wanted was to achieve a certain degree of stability in the rule of the Empire. So what? Xinjiang, at that time, China's western region is what we now call the western regions. Xinjiang, Gansu, and Ningxia were in the Western Regions in Chinese history. Then, how were the Western Regions governed? They would pose a certain threat to the Tang Empire. This place had so many of what we now call “ethnic minorities.” It was a transitional zone bordering the entire Central Asian region where culture and Buddhism were introduced. For the Emperor, the first thing was to stabilize it. Doug Still 52:22 So, Xuanzang knew these regions very well. He traveled through them. He knew the culture. Emperor Taizong intended to put him to use. He wanted him to govern. Ruihong Di 52:33 In the eyes of Emperor Taizong of Tang, he was not just a high monk in the simple sense, but a monk who could help renew the empire with his talents. So the relationship between him and Xuanzang was originally a political relationship. After Xuanzang returned to Chang'an from India, Emperor Taizong was in Luoyang at the time. He asked someone from Chang'an to invite Xuanzang to Luoyang to meet him. Emperor Taizong met him in person and told him, “You want to serve politics. You want to be an official. I will give you an official position, and you will come to help me govern the country.” But Tang Xuanzang refused. He said to the Tang faction, “I don't want to be an official. What is my mission?” As a result, there was a disagreement between him and Taizong. It was because Xuanzang himself, as a monk, had no political goals. He did not want to become an official to participate in state governance. He was a very devout believer in Buddhism. Doug Still 53:45 If speaking truth to power was a virtue, then Li Shimin was impressed. Ruihong Di 53:49 However, Taizong still respected him very much because he was a determined monk with his own beliefs, and he wanted to use him to cultivate his own virtues. He regarded him as a high ranking monk, very close to the royal family, and arranged a position for him as the manager of a very important temple. Doug Still 54:12 Meanwhile, Emperor Taizong was feeling a loss. Just two years prior, in 643, Prime Minister Wei Zheng died. Emperor Taizong no longer had his senior advisor and confidant. He gave Wei Zheng a formal funeral, a very rare honor. He commissioned a stone monument and personally wrote the inscription, which went: “Using copper as a mirror allows one to keep his clothes neat. Using history as a mirror allows one to see the future trends. Using a person as a mirror allows one to see what is right and what is wrong. When Wei Zheng died, I lost a mirror.” To this day, Wei Zheng is venerated in some Taoist temples as a door God. Wars and plots to upend his reign continued over the next few years, and Li Shimin often wondered what Wei Zheng would do or say. He was aging, and the histories demonstrate that he was reflecting back on his reign and legacy. The world was brutal, and he regretted some of the things he had to do for power and self preservation. The killing of his brothers was a blight on his legacy, but he insisted that his historians should not hold back the facts, a lesson learned from Wei Zheng. Then, in 649, the Emperor himself got sick. Ruihong Di 55:41 But one year, Taizong fell ill and went to a place north of Chang'an to educate Chinese workers and to avoid the summer heat, which we call summer vacation. When sick and faced with some ultimate questions, he needed a great monk like Tang Xuanzang to answer them, for him to answer his doubts at this time. Doug Still 56:05 He called on Xuanzang to fill the void. Ruihong Di 56:08 The relationship between him and Tang Xuanzang underwent another change, that is from the original political relationship. Then it slowly became a friendship. It was only because of him that Emperor Taizong of Tang dynasty had a positive attitude toward Buddhism, or an attitude that was free from political exploitation, and he truly saw the value of Buddhism to national governance and the liberation of personal life. Doug Still 56:39 Xuanzang helped him find life's meaning when he needed it most. Could it be, that to demonstrate his late in life embrace of Buddhism, as well as his newfound friendship with Xuanzang, that Emperor Taizong planted a ginkgo tree at a new Buddhist temple on the outskirts of his city, a temple in the Zhongnan Mountains with a Divine Spring? It sure is tempting to think that he did. Professor Di explained a relationship between ginkgo trees and the Bodhi tree of India under which Buddha achieved enlightenment. Xuanzang would have seen this tree, and she said, the ginkgo is viewed as a holy tree in China. Ruihong Di 57:21 Then, what about Buddhism? What influences came from India? Shikyamuni was in Bodhi. It represents a kind of enlightenment. And our ginkgo tree actually has some similarities with the Bodhi tree in some places, such as its appearance, etc. When the leaves turn yellow in autumn, it looks like an umbrella. It is tall and magnificent. In short, it is visually loved by Buddhists. In addition, it can produce edible ginkgo fruits. It has a long lifespan, so it is also loved for these auspicious characteristics. Doug Still 58:00 But Professor Di threw some cold water on the notion that the Taizong legend is true. She sticks to the facts, sort of. Ruihong Di 58:10 In China, these records are extremely rare in what we call the official history books. Basically, very, very few. So as for the record of Emperor Taizong of Tang and trees, if there are records they only exist in some individual historical allusions, such as story books. In the history books, we have confirmed that there is very little content related to this subject. It is not part of serious historical research. It can only exist as a legend or a folk story. Therefore, it is difficult for us to say that this ginkgo tree - what the relationship between it and Emperor Taizong of Tang is. But on the other hand, we cannot just think that this kind of legend is false. Legend is not equal to false. Behind this kind of legend, in fact, is people's expectation of an emperor in the whole process of storytelling. It is a real emotion that exists in real history and culture. It exists as an expectation of rulers. This expectation must be true. Therefore, it does not mean that we have a back story with a false legend. Whether the legend is true or false is not important. It is about the history of generations entrusted with this ginkgo tree and the expectations of people for the rulers. Is this ginkgo tree important to Li Shimin? It is important in people's minds. We truly hope that the ruling party can do something like this to acknowledge the status of Buddhism in Chinese history, and hope that citizens can face up to the role that Buddhism, which is believed by the majority of people, has put in Chinese history and in shaping Chinese culture. Doug Still 1:00:03 Great answer. Ruihong Di 1:00:06 Thank you. Doug Still Have you visited Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple? Ruihong Di 1:00:13 Yes, yes. I went there many years ago, and I also paid close attention to the ancient Guanyin Temple and some of the articles and photos they released to the public. There are many meditation classes. I also talked with their Abbot at the time, who was also a very powerful monk. Therefore, regarding the entire history of China and its current impact on the entire Chinese society, we should look at the tree within the whole Chinese culture represented behind its popularity, legend and technology merged together into a ginkgo tree, an unknown tree in China that attracted worldwide attention. This is a very interesting communication phenomenon and a cultural phenomenon. It is actually worthy of our attention and thinking about the background. There are many beautiful photos of this tree, and if we talk about communication, these photos have played a role. Those who cared about the Zen temple at that time were the monks who took pictures of the Zen temple more than 10 years ago. These photos of people meditating under a ginkgo tree, these photos bring great spiritual resonance to people, and also represent people's yearning for this kind of spiritual tranquility. Through this tree, we can learn about the Chinese history of Emperor Taizong of Tang, Xuanzang, Wei Zhang, etc. It is very interesting. So the spread of culture is a very interesting phenomenon which allows us to let our American friends understand Chinese culture, and can also make Chinese people reflect on their own culture, look back at their own history, and then face up to the environment we are in now and everyone's inner yearning. Why do we pay attention to this tree? Because we have expectations for it in our hearts. We also hope that such beautiful things will be associated with our own lives. Doug Still 1:02:13 Well, that's why I'm here. It's all because of this tree. And I got to learn all of, you know, this period in your history, and I got to meet you. Ruihong Di I hope it helps you. Doug Still Thank you so much for joining me. I very much appreciate it. Ruihong Di 1:02:26 You're welcome and thank you. Doug Still 1:02:30 Whether or not Li Shimin, the great emperor Taizong, planted or gifted the ginkgo tree at Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple is difficult to say for sure. If he did, the meaning behind the gesture is unmistakable. That Buddhism belongs in China, symbolized by the quintessential Chinese tree. And certainly to the monks there today celebrating its beauty, the ginkgo is a gift that keeps on giving. Outro Thank you, listeners, for joining me today to hear this story. For all of you ginkgo tree lovers in the U.S., China and around the world, I hope I did it some justice. Many thanks to Dr Ruihong Di for taking the time to talk about the history surrounding a tree in your hometown of Xi’an. Your insight is so much appreciated. And thanks also to Dr Peter Del Tredici for taking us on a botanical journey to the wild stands of Ginkgo biloba in central China. The Traditional Folk Tale of Gu Guanyin Buddhist Temple was read by my friend Wiley Wang, a machine intelligence engineer living in California, but originally from Jilin Province, China. And the wonderful music you've been listening to is actually traditional Chinese folk music from the Tang Dynasty. The piece is called “Farewell at the Yangguan Pass,” not coincidentally the same Silk Road passage through the Chinese western frontier that Xuanzang took on his journey to India. It is played by Wu Xiao-zhong with the former People’s Association Chinese Orchestra in Singapore. I'll be posting photos of Gu Guanyin Temple and its ginkgo tree on Facebook and Instagram. The show website is thisoldtree.show. Once again, thanks for listening. I'm Doug still, and this is This Old Tree. See you next time! This Old Tree with Doug Still
Tree Story Shorts IV - Transcript Season 2, Episode 10 February 24, 2025 Doug Still 00:01 Hi all! Welcome back to This Old Tree, the show that features heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still, and today I'm very pleased to share the fourth edition of “Tree Story Shorts" with you. This is when we play audio stories told by listeners and invited guests about a tree they're thinking about or that holds special meaning for each of them. There's an interesting mix of storytellers today, from artists to writers to social media influencers. One guest is finishing a long illustrious career in urban forestry. Another is an 11 year old girl who named her favorite tree. What all their stories have in common is a reverence for that first tree that truly sparked their interest or was present at an important time early in their life or career. Coming up, “Tree Story Shorts.” This is This Old Tree. [This Old Tree song] 01:03 Doug Still 01:22 Stephanie Carrie is the tree geek behind the very popular account Trees of LA on Instagram. It revels in gorgeous photos of the diverse and unusual species in the urban forest of Los Angeles, with tips along the way on how to identify them. She captures what makes them special. Stephanie's Trees of LA has almost 20,000 followers and was recently featured in the Los Angeles Times as well as The Guardian. By day, and by night and weekend I imagine, she's a screenwriter and comedian and sketch writer. So how did she become an online champion of trees? Stephanie has our first story. Stephanie Carrie 02:02 Eight years ago, right after I had my first son, I was living in an apartment in Westwood, California, near the UCLA campus, and every day I would walk with my baby the same six blocks to a park. And it was getting kind of boring, so I started to look more closely at the world around me. And the birds were too fast, so I started looking at the trees, and I was shocked to discover that there seemed to be over 40 different types of trees just on these six blocks in Los Angeles. And I didn't know what the trees were, but when I looked more closely, I saw there was this magnificent diversity of leaf shape and colors and bark textures and seed architecture. And three of my favorite trees were on my corner, and they kind of looked like weeping willows, but not quite. They were about 15 feet tall with light green, lanceolate leaves. And they would cascade down around a warm brown, fissured, kind of fibrous bark, and they seemed to have like these pink berries on it. And my baby liked it to them too, and he would run his hands along as we passed. And so I started looking for resources to see if I could begin learning what these trees were on my street. And I was in my early 30’s at the time, so obviously I looked at Instagram and I didn't find a lot of resources for LA trees. And so eventually I found some lists online and some books, and I began to build my knowledge. But it struck me that Instagram would be this great place to build community and share this visual knowledge. So as I started to learn to identify these trees on my street, I would post about them on this new account, Trees of LA. And I still remember the day when I was reading a book about tree botany, still very new to it all, and I came across the incredible fact that some species of trees have both male and female parts on one tree, while the other species some have separate male and female trees. That's a pretty basic thing, but it was new to me. Who should be in the explanation of the male and female parts, but my favorite tree outside, which I now know is Schinus molle, the Peruvian pepper tree. And so I ran out of my house, I was so filled with delight that I had a name to put these trees, and also this opportunity to observe this newfound discovery of nature right outside my door. And I knew it was such a basic thing, but I never looked to see if they were male or female. And that's the thing about trees and learning about trees. To me, they feel like it's an ever unfolding kaleidoscope of beauty where you don't even know how to unlock the next incredible layer until you've solved the first one, and you know what questions to ask. And it turned out now that I was finally looking at these three trees, that two of the pepper trees were male and one was female. I was standing outside in front of my apartment laughing about the salacious tree activity that had been going on right under my nose. And the flowers of the male and female on Schinus molle are quite small, which is part of why I had not noticed or thought to look. But sure enough, they're extremely different. You know, the male flowers have these 10 or so stamen sticking out with their pollen balls kind of jauntily and lamely, while the female flowers have slightly brighter white petals, but they're very green inside, and they're kind of spreading themselves open, waiting for this final ingredient to perform the miracle of them becoming the pink peppercorns. We moved away from this apartment which we were in for about 10 years during the pandemic, but I often drive by it, and every time I see those three beautiful Peruvian pepper trees, it makes me so happy. And Trees of LA has grown into a thriving community with a pretty big following, and I know a lot more about trees. I even lead tree walks these days, which has become a wonderful way to share that joy I found from those pepper trees so long ago, with a much larger community, Doug Still 06:29 Great tree lover’s awakening story Stephanie! Now we'll all be looking for Peruvian pepper trees whenever in Los Angeles, because we know what they've been up to. Everyone, definitely follow Trees of LA on Instagram, and I've included the link to Stephanie's website in the show notes so you can follow more of her work. [tones] Next up is Denise Lewis. I met Denise last fall when we started chatting at a lunch table at the annual conference for the New England Chapter of the International Society of Arboriculture, or ISA. She told me she's studying for a master's degree in Urban Forestry at UMass. But little did I know she was about to stand up and receive a scholarship in front of this large crowd of arborists. I also learned she was recognized in City Trees magazine of the Urban & Community Forestry Society as a young and emerging professional to take note of. She did some remarkable work for the Legacy Tree Program in Massachusetts, researching trees with profound historical and cultural value. Which leads to her story about a particular set of trees that left an impression on her, called The Waverly Oaks. Denise Lewis 07:44 Hello, I'm Denise, and today I want to take you to a special place in Belmont, Massachusetts, The Beaver Brook Reservation. The spot is home to a truly remarkable tree known as the Waverly Oak. Well, to be precise, a descendent of the legendary Waverly Oaks, but its story is just as inspiring. So let me set the scene for you. The Beaver Brook Reservation is more than just a park. It's a cultural and historical treasure. Imagine walking through a landscape where history whispers to you with every step. They're surrounded by lush woodlands, open summit lawns and trails making their way through serene space, offering a perfect blend of recreation and reflection. And in the midst of all this natural beauty, stands the Waverly Oak, a majestic white oak that almost feels alive with the weight of its history. The Waverly Oaks were once a cluster of 22 magnificent white oak trees, some of which were estimated to have lived for over 600 years. So just think about that - these trees were alive before the Pilgrims set foot on Plymouth Rock. They stood as silent witnesses to centuries of change, embodying resilience and strength. Back in 1893 when these iconic oaks faced the threat of destruction, a landscape architect named Charles Elliot stepped in, and his deep love for nature and his determination to protect these trees led to the creation of the Beaver Brook Reservation, which is the very first park in the Metropolitan Park System. Although the original Waverley oaks eventually succumbed to old age around the 1920’s, the tree standing there today is believed to be a descendant. When I first saw this tree, I couldn't help but pause and take it all in. There is something almost reverent about standing beneath its sprawling branches. You can feel the history embedded in its bark and its branches reaching out like an elder, offering quiet wisdom to me. It's not just a tree, it's a living legacy, a reminder of the importance of preserving the natural world for future generations. It holds a special place in my heart, because it embodies everything I love about trees. It's resilient, majestic, and it's deeply rooted in history. Working on the Legacy Tree Project allowed me to capture its beauty and share its incredible story. For me, it's not just about documenting the tree, but it's about connecting with its spirits and the lessons it carries, a symbol of how one's person's passion - in this case, Charles Elliot - could ignite change and leave a lasting impact. Every time I visit there, I feel renewed, and I just feel like a really great sense of wonder standing beneath its canopy. I'm reminded that trees like this aren't just part of the landscape, but they're part of our collective memory. They teach us about resilience, patience and the importance of nurturing what we hold dear. This oak has survived storms, changing seasons and the passing of time. It inspires me to keep advocating for trees and green spaces, not just for their beauty, but for the stories they hold in the future they promise. So if you ever find yourself in Belmont, Massachusetts, I can't recommend visiting Beaver Brook Reservation enough. Just take a moment, sit under the shade of this remarkable tree, look up into its branches, and think about the centuries of history it represents. I promise you'll walk away with a new appreciation for the quiet strength of nature. Well, thank you so much for listening to this story about the Waverly Oaks, and it's been a joy sharing this with you. Doug Still 11:22 Although no longer with us, the Waverly Oaks seem like symbols with multiple layers. They hearken back to the pre-colonial era, but also served as catalysts for landscape preservation, centering Belmont's contribution to the 19th century American parks movement. I love that a budding urban forester tells this story. Claiming the torch, Denise connects directly with the descendant of the Waverly Oaks, as well as the inspiration the trees have stirred for centuries. [tones] Sometimes naming a tree gives it extra significance. That's what Devi Lakhia did. She's a young tree lover from the west coast of India, and I had the pleasure of meeting her and her parents, Abhi and Leslie, during Diwali, the national holiday. Thus the sound of fireworks and music in the neighborhood surrounding us. She goes to school at the Learning Center in Goa, but we were on the roof of her grandmother's house in the city of Ahmedabad. I peppered her with questions about her favorite tree, and she told me about Loki. To Devi Lakhia Okay, what's your name? Devi Lakhia 12:28 My name is Devi. Full name, or just first name? Doug Still Full name. Devi Lakhia Devi Brooklyn Lakhia. Doug Still 12:34 Ah. Where are we right now? Devi Lakhia 12:37 We are in Ahmedabad, in the Old City. In the Old City, the pol. Doug Still 12:44 And you have a favorite tree? You live in Goa, right? Devi Lakhia Yes. Doug Still So tell me about your favorite tree in Goa, where you live. Devi Lakhia 12:51 It was a banyan tree, and we used to keep it - we used to have it on like, a long road near where we were moving. And it was this really big banyan tree that was, like, you couldn't - it was so big that you couldn't finish the hug if you hugged it. So, like, it was really big. And I used to climb it and collect the dried up leaves and then press it in books and then look at the patterns, and then put a paper over it and color over it with the crayons and stuff. And one time we were driving back, when we would drive past it, me and my dad, we would always have a little bit of fun. And we could just say, like, “Hey, that's our Loki tree!” And it was called the Loki tree. Doug Still And who's Loki? Devi Lakhia Loki was the tree, and his name was Loki, and he was a banyan. A banyan tree, that was also a peepal tree, I think… Doug Still 13:49 But where did you get the name Loki? Devi Lakhia 13:52 um, from Marvel. [both laugh] Doug Still 13:56 So, who was he in Marvel? Devi Lakhia 13:58 He was the god of mischief, Thor’s brother. Doug Still 14:01 So why'd you name this tree, Loki? Devi Lakhia 14:04 It was a really fragile tree, like the leaves are really fragile. And, I don't know exactly, but like the descriptive way of thinking of it, as I used to think of it, like the fragile leaves are, like - Loki is kind of fragile, and has a lot of anxiety, but he looks strong. So it looks like it's a big, magnificent, really strong tree that if you cut it with, like, one shot, it wouldn't break. But I think it's more than that, and it's more fragile. Doug Still 14:33 Why do you think it was fragile? Was it the location it was in? Devi Lakhia 14:38 No, I just think it's about the tree. Doug Still 14:40 Yeah. What does it look like? Devi Lakhia 14:44 It was very tall and very magnificent, but like the way that it was, the shape of it was like a typical looking tree that you would draw on a notebook. But it was like a spirit. It was different, and it was kind of more magnificent than most trees. Yeah. Doug Still It really stood out. Devi Lakhia It really stood out. Doug Still 15:12 Any fond memories about the tree? Devi Lakhia 15:13 Yeah, climbing in it. Doug Still 15:17 You climbed this tree? Devi Lakhia 15:19 Yes, with the stool we bought - there were all these little stools. It was right next to a temple, so there were these stools that they would leave out, and you could bring them and put them out, actually to the tree, and I would climb it. Doug Still 15:30 Why do you think Loki is important? Devi Lakhia 15:34 Because it's a peepal tree. It's like something that just like, it has properties that just make it pop and like, it's important to me. I don't know if it would be important to other people, but it's important to me. That's why I think it's important. Doug Still 15:53 Thank you so much. Devi Lakhia You’re welcome. Bye-bye! Doug Still Known as the peepall tree - that's p-e-e-p-a-l - it's of course a type of fig tree, Ficus religiosa. It's sacred in India. In fact, the story is that Buddha found enlightenment under a peepal tree. But this one, this one is Loki. Thanks Devi, that was so much fun. And thanks for pointing out that trees are fragile. That's so true. We need to protect them. [This Old Tree theme music] We're going to take a short break. When we come back, we hear from a “big tree hunter.” In fact, the biggest big tree hunter, Fred Breglia. This is Tree Story Shorts, and you're listening to This Old Tree. If you're like me, and your social media algorithms send you lots of tree stuff, you've likely seen photos of huge, magnificent trees posted by Fred Breglia, or perhaps other members of the Facebook or Instagram groups he curates. With a massive following, he's tapped into something primal. He's now the Executive Director of the Landis Arboretum in upstate New York. But long ago, how did it all start? Fred Breglia 17:15 Gonna tell you a tree story today. A big tree story. It's also a story on how I got involved with environmentalism and also how my passion for big tree hunting came to be. It dates back to my early childhood. When I was three or four years old, my mom told us the story about this giant oak tree that was growing high up on a ridge overlooking Beards Hollow in Richmondville, New York, which was the site of my childhood home. It was surrounded by 1000’s of acres of land, a creek flowing behind our house - it was the perfect place to have grown up. Couldn't have picked a better spot. She described this tree to be really big, and my three siblings and her would hike up there, and they would hold hands and reach around the trunk and try to connect their fingers, which they never have been able to do. It was that big a trunk. It was that giant. So the story left me very intrigued. I wanted to see this tree pretty bad. At the time, I was only three or four years old, so I was a little too young to make the pretty long hike up to that ridge. But when I was five or six years old, my mom thought I could make that trip, and took me on a hike to see the tree. We took the hike together. We saw this mighty oak tree. It's a white oak, Quercus alba. In my mind, I had expected to see this tree, and I had kind of a vision of what I thought, you know, I was going to see, and how big it was going to be. But when I actually saw the tree it was much bigger than I had imagined. It was just gigantic. Over the years, I've taken many people up there to see the tree. Back in high school, I took friends, and when I got older, in college, I took friends, and you can see the expression on their faces when they first saw this mighty oak wood. It's a giant trunk. It's just really wide, spreading branches that nearly touch the ground. The canopy spread on this tree was over 115 feet with its branch spread, so just just huge. I took my wife up there many years later to see the tree, and together we marvel at its beauty. I’m over 51 years old now. I've got two boys of my own, ages nine and age 14. They both have admired this tree and were inspired by just its magnificent size and near perfect growth form. The tree was a remnant of a huge forest of old growth that was removed many years ago. My mom explained that to me on many of our trips over the years to see the tree, and somehow this tree managed to escape the ax. Whether it was intentionally saved or whether it was unintentionally saved, we’ll probably never know. But this encounter with the tree, and the fact that the forest was removed, and virtually almost all of it was cut perhaps several times over the years, really left an impression on my young brain. And the fact that this happened really led me to focus on environmentalism, and it later led me to pursue careers in college and plant science and horticulture. Later I went on to become a certified arborist. It opened up career opportunities for me. I am employed at the Landis Arboretum, where I've worked for the past 28 years, the past 15 years as the Executive Director of the Arboretum. For most of my life, I've dedicated an incredible amount of time looking for big trees and old growth forests, and always wanted to share that passion with other people. It led me to start social media accounts. One account is called Ancient Forests and Champion Trees - it's a page on Facebook - and also Big Tree Hunters on Instagram. And those two accounts alone have attracted over 600,000 followers combined. Additionally, I started the public group, public groups I should say, one called Big Tree Seekers and one called Ancient Forests, both on Facebook. These groups allow people to post their big trees and their old growth forests from different parts of the world. The combined audience of these two groups is over one and a half million members worldwide as of today. We share on these platforms, you know, many trees that I find, and also other big tree hunters from around the globe, and the result is not much different from what I've seen as a young kid. People continue to be amazed by these giants. The magnificence is just how big these trees can be. I've always felt that if you can get someone to like a tree, they'd be more likely to protect the tree, and big trees are just a really good way to achieve that goal. It's proven so for me, it's proven so for others. As I continue to do this daily with posts on Facebook, Instagram and through outreach, the mission of the arboretum is to foster the appreciation of trees and other plants and their importance in our environment. It's an education driven organization, and we do a lot of outreach. I work on a radio station for NPR here in upstate New York. It broadcasts out to five states, I think. And if you have an internet connection, you can listen to it virtually worldwide. The website for the Landis Arboretum is landisarboretum.org. In conclusion, I can remember that original hike with my mom some 45 years ago when I first saw the old oak. And from my memory, the ancient oak seems to have not aged but a day. I certainly can't say the same. For me, trees are the answer. Doug Still 22:50 I've got links to all Fred's platforms in the show notes, if you want to see some of the stunning gems that have been found around the world and to meet the people who found them. Behind it all is not only awe of big trees, but appreciation for the last vestiges of old growth forests. [tones] The best college campuses are renowned for gorgeous shade trees. They kind of go hand in hand, as many of them are literally arboreta with amazing collections. College is also such a formative time for many of us. So it's no surprise that the next story from writer Ellen Cliggott features a class reunion with time spent below a beloved beech tree. Ellen Cliggott 23:36 On Thursday, July 19, 2024 a difficult decision had to be made. One of the massive summer storms that have become all too typical in Western Massachusetts caused severe damage to a revered copper beech tree on the campus of Mount Holyoke College in South Hadley. The tree was planted in 1904 by a botany professor in honor of his baby daughter, who would later graduate from the college with the class of 1924. The most well known tree on a campus of over 1,200 planted trees made up of more than 175 species, the copper beech grew to be over 80 feet tall. It was described on the College website as having elephantine branches and burgundy leaves. The school bills its gorgeous campus as a living laboratory with students in biology, environmental science and art, among other disciplines, studying the plants and trees. The Campus features a three acre botanical garden where tree saplings are nurtured. I had most recently admired the copper beach while at my 35th college reunion in May. The trees stood between Mount Holyoke’s famously beautiful library and Dwight Hall, where the college's archives are located. My friends and I, scarcely able to believe that we are not still 22 years old and just about to graduate, wanted to visit the archives, which are a treasure trove of photos, maps, programs and yearbooks from the 187 years since Mount Holyoke was founded. As we walked through the center of campus, remembering which classes we went to in the various buildings, we saw the enormous copper beach up ahead. We gathered around it in admiration. Some of us touched the trunk. I climbed the steps to the door into Dwight Hall and looked back at my friends under the deep red leaves of the tree, chatting and laughing as they enjoyed its shade and their memories. Less than two months later, according to an article in the Mount Holyoke news, the trunk of the copper beech split and the tree suffered multiple stress fractures at the base. The next morning, the college's arborists and a tree consultant company attempted to trim the tree, but by 1pm they realized it could not safely continue to stand. Members of the campus community watched as the process of removing the 120 year old tree began. The College reports that every attempt was made to save as much of the copper beech as possible, and the tree will be memorialized in future. Over 1,000 people reacted to Mount Holyoke College's post about the removal of the tree on Facebook, and in the following few days and weeks, hundreds of former students commented with their memories of the copper beech. Some remembered sitting under the tree during their student years to study or relax. Some had enjoyed birthday cake at the tree centennial celebration in 2004. And some, like me, associated the copper beech with the lifelong friends we made. Doug Still 26:56 A sad but wonderful collective story, Ellen. And I'll have listeners know that Ellen was my neighbor growing up, and we spent many days climbing the maple trees dotted around our yards. It's really nice to reconnect over a story about a tree. [tones] I find this next guest so fascinating. Her name is Magali Duzant, and she's an artist and writer based in New York and Zurich. In addition to her time based installations, she uses photography, writing and design to create artist books that describe how we share the world we inhabit. One book is called A Tree Grows in Queens, and I'll paraphrase from her website. It reflects on the many ways in which trees manifest into other things, from memorials and myths to memes, markers and meeting points. It was inspired by trees found in old growth forests and on city streets. She shared a copy by PDF. It's gorgeous and meaningful. Here, she shares a piece about an old city, tulip poplar. Magali Duzant 28:04 My name is Magali Duzant. I am an artist and writer based in Zurich and Queens, New York, where I'm originally from. My tree story is about the Queens Giant, which I had known about for a while, but only first visited whilst researching for a book called A Tree Grows in Queens. Coincidentally, I write about a number of trees across the New York City area and their connections to the wider world of mythology, memorials, meeting places, and the like. The Queen's Giant is a tulip poplar, neither a tulip nor a poplar, but rather a Liriodendron tulipifera, which means the no less confusing “lily tree that carries tulips.” The Queen's Giant is also called the Alley Pond Park Giant for its location. The name of the tree in the Miami-Illinois dialect is “oonsentia.” English colonizers called it the canoe tree, inspired by one of the ways its wood was used. The Queens Giant is rooted on Matinecock land, nestled between two parkways, down a ravine and through some poison ivy. It's the tallest and oldest tree in New York City, ranging from yellow-green to orange. The tree's flowers could easily be mistaken for the ones that caused the tulip mania that ripped across the Dutch Republic in the 17th century, when the tree might have even been a sapling. The Queen's giant stands in some of the last old growth forest of the city. It's roughly 134 feet tall with a 19 foot circumference. It's believed to be between 350 and 450 years old, meaning that it has existed since this sliver of land was first colonized by the British. In fact, the tulip poplar was one of the first trees imported from the US to England, spurring the start of a furious export of plants from the Americas that transformed English gardens. You can't ask the tree “What is your earliest memory?” Nor can it tell us what it was like when colonizers moved in and the Matinecock were pushed from their land, or when war broke out and George Washington supposedly passed through the forest, or when houses started being built, or when tar was poured and cars started streaming through, belching exhaust, creating a consistent low hum of traffic. But in visiting the tree, you might start to ask yourself those questions, or imagine those scenarios, because down in the ravine, away from the traffic, you realize that time stands still. To get to the tree, you first need to get to the park. There's no subway that's anywhere near, so a bus, a bike, or a car is your best bet. The trail to get there runs along the expressway, a sparse line of trees separating the path from cars. At some point it turns inward, and the foliage becomes lusher, weedier, more thickened. I first visited the giant during the early days of the COVID lockdowns, dragging my mother along. In spring, the Wisteria had started to bloom, splashes of pale lilac and green neon against the tall white of the sky. It's easy to miss the giant as at first it looks like any other tree. We passed the overgrown trail, retraced our steps, looked for a marker, but found nothing. And then it was suddenly obvious. The tree did not appear to be much bigger than those surrounding it, and yet it somehow stood apart like it had an aura. The trunk seemed to stretch for ages, a silvery gray and the myriad greens. To get to the base of the tree, we slid down a path through what we thought was a path, the forest floor soft from the rotting leaves. Standing in front of the tree, I hoped to feel some kind of immediate awe, but the tulip poplar doesn't necessarily hold the same storybook reverence as a giant redwood or a Sequoia. The Queen's Giant was simply another tree, large with a hollow in its face and a rickety, black chain link fence around it. But it's this lack of awe that is most likely why it is as old as it is. The ordinariness of it all becomes a layer of protection. The awe did emerge. It just took a while, but it also lasted. The New York City Department of Parks and Recreation has communicated their policy toward the tree as one of “benign neglect.” If the tree is in a tourist destination, it can grow old in peace, or whatever peace can be found a few 100 yards from an expressway. In that way, it's perhaps a true New York City tree, unflappable. And of course, the Queens giant rates 4.9 out of five stars on Google Maps. No wait time or reservation needed. Just open eyes and some patience. Doug Still 33:01 After living in New York City for 17 years, I'm kicking myself that I never visited the Queen's Giant although I'd heard of it. But that's okay. Like Magali said, the secret to survival for old growth trees is to remain under the radar, and that's how it should be. Definitely visit Magali’s website to see more of her thoughtful work yourself. The link is in the show notes. [This Old Tree theme music] After the break, we finish with stories from two authors who have made their mark on environmentalism and urban forestry. Nadina Galle splits her time between the Netherlands and Canada, and Mark Johnston is from the UK. Both champion the role of trees as critical infrastructure in the urban ecosystem, but each of them shows that a personal connection to trees is just as much a professional motivator. This is This Old Tree. Nadina Galle is an ecological engineer, technologist and podcaster known for her show The Internet of Nature. In 2024 she published a book called The Nature of Our Cities: Harnessing the Power of the Natural World to Survive a Changing Planet. It's getting a lot of attention - a blend of hard data and great storytelling. I got my signed copy at a conference for the Urban and Community Forestry Society where she was the keynote speaker. So cool. And if we want to find that crucial tree canopy in cities, look no further than the backyard. Nadina Galle 34:39 Hi. My name is Nadina, and this is the story of a tree that no longer stands in Amsterdam. It was an ash tree, or an “es” in Dutch, likely a bit over 100 years old. Though no one knows for sure, the ash towered over the courtyard behind my building. From my fourth floor apartment, I could see its branches stretch wide, its leaves vibrant green in summer and golden in autumn. I wrote about this tree in my book The Nature of Our Cities because it wasn't just a tree, it was a daily micro-dose of nature, something studies show can lower stress, boost immune systems and improve focus. It brought calm to my days, provided a home for birds and insects, and its shade cooled our homes during Amsterdam's increasingly hot summers. Then one day, I got a message from our new neighbor on the ground floor, “The tree is coming down tomorrow.” I was half a world away visiting family and felt helpless. The tree wasn't sick, not really. A respected arborist assured me it could have lived another 40 to 50 years, but a permit had already been granted. The objection period had passed, and the chain saws were ready. The next day, the ash was gone. For my downstairs neighbor, a vibrant woman who just turned 100, it was devastating. She had woken up to birdsong from that tree for 75 years. For me, it was a quiet companion that offered moments of solace and connection to nature in the middle of a busy city. For the 200 people who could see it from their windows, it was a piece of urban nature that will never quite know how it touched them. Every time I look up my window now onto a gray expanse, instead of a vibrant canopy, I'm reminded of what that ash meant, not just to me, but to all of us. Urban nature rarely receives the same poetic reverence as wilderness, yet it's the kind of nature most of us encounter every day. These trees are more than scenery. They are lifelines, helping us feel connected, healthier and grounded, and quietly making our cities livable. Losing that ash was a profound loss, but it also deepened my resolve to protect the trees that remain for their beauty, their purpose, and the countless ways they enrich our lives. I hope my story inspires you to notice the trees in your city, their shade, the creatures that call them home and their quiet companionship. Every tree has a story, and it's up to us to ensure those stories don't end too soon. Doug Still 37:19 Thank you for sharing that and recalling that lovely ash tree with us, Nadina. Many trees affect the whole world around them, not just the property owner. That's something to remember. Telling the story helps. [tones] My last guest is Mark Johnston, and I'm very honored that he has shared a story with us. Mark has over 50 years experience as a tree expert in the UK, having worked as, and I'm quoting, "A tree surgery contractor, a tree officer in local government, a private consultant, a government advisor, and a university academic.” That barely begins to tell his story, but a gift to us all is a new book called Planting Ideas in the Urban Forest: Autobiography of a Tree Expert. It's a delightful journey through his career and all that has happened in urban forestry since the 1970’s. He has helped lead the way. He started emailing me after a past episode of this old tree, sharing information that he thought would be helpful, and I continue to hear from him. What a wonderful, curious, generous guy. In my limited friendship with him, I can see how he's impacted so many people. Well, his story is about one of the most impressive trees in London. Mark Johnston 38:43 Hi there. My name is Mark Johnston. The tree I want to tell you about is the chestnut-leaved oak, and that's in the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew in London. The botanic name of this species is Quercus castaneifolia, and it actually originates from the mountainous regions of Eurasia that we commonly know as the Caucasus. The tree was introduced into Britain as seed in 1843 and the tree at Kew was planted out in the gardens a couple of years later in 1846 in a patch of lawn near what is now the water lily house. Well, I first came across this amazing tree when I worked on the tree maintenance crew at Kew Gardens back in 1982. Of all the amazing trees at Kew, this is the one that really had the greatest impact on me. But what's more, I had the pleasure of working on it when we undertook some crown thinning and branch reduction. Today, this chestnut-leaved oak is an impressive and beautiful giant. It measures over 100 feet tall and 100 feet wide. It's the biggest and finest specimen of its type in the world. It's also Kew's fastest growing tree and the largest tree in the gardens. But there are other reasons why it's many people's favorite tree at Kew. Although it's truly massive, it still has a graceful beauty that just takes your breath away. It's that combination of incredible size and graceful beauty that to me, makes it truly exceptional. Now that I live in Ireland, I really get to see this tree only when I occasionally go over to London and go to Kew. However, I'm reminded of it every day. When we were working on it, a colleague of mine took his chainsaw and with a short branch, carved out a small stall for me. Now, 40 years later, this stall acts as a plant stand in my living room, always reminding me of this amazing tree and my wonderful time at Kew Gardens. Doug Still 41:09 Okay, Google chestnut-leaved oak at Kew Gardens. It is unbelievable. Fantastic tree. Or better yet, visit Kew and stand under it yourself. Thank you, Mark Johnston, and thanks to all of the other story contributors today: Stephanie Carrie, Denise Lewis, Devi Lakhia, Fred Breglia, Ellen Cliggott, Magali Duzant, and Nadina Galle. Information on all of them and links to their work can be found in the show notes. Where I can, I'll be sharing photos of the trees talked about during this episode on Facebook and Instagram. Visit the show website at thisoldtree.show. The theme music is by arborist and songwriter Dee Lee. A shout out to Dee. I think I'll play his whole song. Thank you for listening! I hope you've enjoyed Tree Story Shorts. I'm Doug still, and this is This Old Tree. See you next time! This Old Tree song - Dee Lee 42:12 This Old Tree with Doug Still
India’s Kabirvad Banyan Tree - Transcript Season 2, Episode 9 February 5, 2025 Doug Still 00:00 You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still. [sounds of birds and nature] Imagine a tree with a canopy that covers nearly four and a half acres. Its widest spread is 204 meters, or 669 feet, large enough to accommodate two football fields end to end. More like a forest than a single tree, its multiple trunks are like columns supporting a protective dome of waxy, paddle-shaped leaves, 80 feet high. Walk inside and the air changes, cool and comfortable. Your eyes adjust to the shade to see monkeys, birds, fruit, bats, people and a temple. [Raga music] Recently, I visited such a tree in India. Its name is Kabirvad, and it is spectacular. It's a banyan tree, Ficus benghalensis, which is a type of strangler fig. I'll explain later in the episode. I was invited to see it by my friend Srinivas Reddy, who goes by the name Srini. That's him playing the raga music you're listening to now, with two friends on tabla. He's a professor of classical literature and music at the Indian Institute of Technology in Gandhinagar, which is a half day's drive from Kabirvad. The famous tree is located on an island in the Narmada River near the city of Baruch. And I'm going to tell you about our trip and what we saw. But that's only half the story. The name Kabirvad means “Kabir’s banyan” in Gujarati, the language spoken in the state of Gujarat where the tree has stood for at least 500 years, but perhaps much longer. Kabir was a mystic poet and saint from the turn of the 16th century, and if you're from India you not only know who he is, but you can likely recite a few lines from his poetry. But if you're like me and most everyone else outside of India, Kabir, well… he's a cultural icon waiting to be discovered. One legend has it that Kabir lived on the island for a period, used a “datun” or twig as a toothpick which he discarded, and it grew into a grand, enormous tree. Learning about Kabir became a centerpiece of my trip to Gujarat, and I'll share a few of the conversations I had with people who helped me begin to understand his spiritual force in the culture. I also had the great pleasure of interviewing one of the leading experts on Kabir’s poetry and iconoclastic worldview, Linda Hess, an author and professor at Stanford University. [This Old Tree theme song - Dee Lee] So join me on this special, extended episode as I try to find the essence of the great Saint Kabir and what his legacy has to do with the magnificent banyan tree known as Kabirvad. I'm Doug still, and this is This Old Tree. Kabir Poem 03:23 A leaf broke from the branch The wind blew it away Once apart, when will they meet? It falls so far away Doug Still 03:36 A public tree dispute first brought Srini and I together during the COVID epidemic. Virtually anyway. We met when, as City Forester of Providence, Rhode Island, I held a public meeting on Zoom to explain why three beautiful London plane trees along South Main Street needed to be removed for a utility project. The trees stood right next to a community garden and landscape art project known as 10,000 Suns. The community organized a protest, upset about losing these important arboreal members of the neighborhood. People attached ribbons and messages to the trees, and there was a three day sit-in that Srini took part in and played sitar for the demonstrators. The tree lover in me loved their energy and I sympathized, but I was in the middle. Sadly, the trees were planted directly on top of a large electrical conduit located below the sidewalk, rather than the usual location within the street. All alternative options to save them had been explored and exhausted. The public meeting was tough, but at least we announced that 62 replacement shade trees were scheduled. I think everyone would rather have just kept the three mature trees. Fast forward to 2024 when Srini reached out to me regarding another tree matter. We got to chatting, and he invited me over to meet in person. We bonded right away by eating specialty mangoes, playing Beatles music, and especially by talking trees. We went out to South Main Street to remember the three trees that were lost. Srinivas Reddy 05:07 So we’re on South Main Street, and yeah, this is where these three beautiful London plane trees stood. If you took a picture of those trees from this perspective, you'd have these three beautiful trees, and right behind, you'd see the great three smoke stacks of Providence, you know? Doug Still The power plant. Srinivas Reddy The power plant. So it's like, I think it's beautiful. It's a poignant statement. You know, the trees go and power the power… Doug Still 05:32 This is right next to a garden. Yeah, we need to let people know and have input… Srinivas Reddy 05:37 Yes, but that's exactly what happened! The input just falls on deaf ears, you know, but, but, I mean, the trees did come down, but I learned so much personally from that whole experience. I think people that were involved in that learned so much. But, yeah, it was a very personal thing. Doug Still 05:57 He was a visiting professor at Brown University, but he told me he was returning to India the following semester to teach at IIT Gandhinagar. As I tend to do, I asked him, “What's the most famous tree in India?” Unsure, he sent information that led us to Kabirvad, the massive historical banyan tree not too far from IIT. The descriptions were tantalizing to us both. Of course, I wanted to know more about Kabir and the tree’s legend, and began locating source material. I asked Srini what the best references are, and he stopped me right there. “You can't really learn about Kabir in books. You have to experience him.” His words stuck with me. I couldn't quite grasp what he meant, but an invite was extended to visit him in India, to see the tree and find Kabir. "If you can get yourself there,” Srini said, “I'll take care of you.” [sound of an airplane landing] Months later, that happened. After a 20 hour trip, I landed in Ahmedabad, a large city known for its textiles near the IIT campus where Srini was in residence. There are 23 IIT campuses throughout India, but this one was in Gandhinagar, the state capital of Gujarat. Both the city center and campus are relatively young and modern, located opposite each other along the river Sabarmati. The campus had only been completed and open to students since 2015. The landscape is flat and vegetation lush. I saw new construction everywhere along the highway from Ahmedabad, but the campus itself is a green oasis. Langurs, which are large leaf-eating monkeys, roam the campus, as did a big, bulky type of antelope known as a nilgai that shocked me the first time one passed by. Birds are everywhere, including a nest of spotted owlets I found in the hollow of an old tree. The first day I had been out learning how to identify the native trees, which were unknown to me as a foreigner. Funny enough, I was asked to lead a tree walk on campus the following week, so I had a lot of catching up to do. In 12 short years the campus had become an arboretum. I learned about neem trees, the Java plum or jamun tree, the towering burflower, orchid trees, and many more. It was here that I saw a banyan tree in person for the first time, Kabir Poem 08:30 The tree said to the leaf, “Listen, leaf, to what I say. Here's how things are in this house. One comes, another goes.” Doug Still 08:43 This banyan was standing in a courtyard in a paved area. It was a young tree, but it was already bursting out of a pavement opening only about five by five feet wide. The trunk was becoming hard to distinguish among massive “roots” dropping down from the upper branches into the limited soil, and they were becoming trunks themselves. These aerial roots are a growth feature of the banyan which, as I said, is a type of fig tree of the genus Ficus. There are over 800 Ficus species around the world, about 96 of them in India, although the number is disputed. Ten of them are common, and they thrive in wet, subtropical climates. But not all fig trees have aerial roots. That is a feature of strangler figs, a subgroup, of which Ficus benghalensis is a member. A strangler fig has a unique life. It starts as a very small seed. Think of the tiny seeds you crunch on as you bite into a fig bought at the grocery store, about the same size. A sticky seed, if it's lucky, might get discarded and land in the crotch of a branch in the upper canopy of another tree, of any type. There it germinates, and there is enough moisture and organic debris for the seedling to survive, for a while anyway. Very soon, the seedling pushes out thin, hair- like roots that dangle down along the trunk of the host tree, or sometimes just in open air, as far out as the seedlings branches might reach. Eventually, if the seedling lives long enough, an aerial root will reach the ground below, and a power shift occurs. The fig is now able to draw its own water and nutrients from the soil. The flexible roots start to form wood, thickening and hardening into trunks with extra energy. The fig's upper branches start to reach for the sky to access better light, more aerial roots grow and drop in a tangle to vigorously grow around the trunk of the host tree and solidify, forming a network of trunk roots. The process speeds up eventually, you guessed it, the strangler fig expands so much that the trunk of the host tree cannot grow its cambium layer squeezed. The host tree dies and decays over decades to the point where you can't even tell one was there, except for the hollow left within the column of fig tree roots. But the fig isn't done, not by a long shot. As branches spread horizontally, long and strong, they continue to drop aerial roots, new trunks form, and new canopies of waxy leaves reach for the sky. And so on and so on, spreading and repeating. Growing in this way, banyan trees in particular have the largest canopies in the world. The banyan tree is an ecological marvel. A single tree interacts with and supports a huge number of birds, bats, animals, invertebrates and smaller plants of many types. In India, entire villages spring up around them and below them. It's the National Tree of India, and it is sacred in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism. It's important to Muslims as well, especially in Sufi traditions. The stories and mythology around banyan trees are many and varied, and I don't have the space to touch on them here. If interested, let me point you to Michael Shanahan's book, Gods, Wasps and Stranglers: The Secret History and Redemptive Future of Fig Trees. I interviewed Mike for an early episode about the Edison Banyan in Fort Myers, Florida. So you can check that out when you have some time. It's incredible to me that such a minuscule seed holds the right genetic information, the key to something so important and much larger. Metaphors about fig seeds found their way into Indian culture thousands of years ago within the Upanishads. The Upanishads are a collection of Sanskrit texts written between 800 and 100 BC that expand on the earlier ritualistic texts called the Vedas. They contain foundational ideas in Hinduism about philosophy and spiritualism. I learned about them in Illuminating Worlds: An Anthology of Classical Indian Literature that Srini had just published and shared with me, for which he did the translations. I included a link to it in the show notes. Srini includes a passage from the Chandogya Upanishad within his book, which has a conversation between a father and a son that reads as follows - and pardon my pronunciations. “Please, wise father, teach me more,” said Shvetaketu. And Uddalaka Aruni replied, “So be it, my son. Bring a fig over here.” “Here it is, wise father.” “Cut it open.” “It is open, wise father.” “What do you see there?” “Many tiny seeds, wise father.” “Break one of those seeds.” “It is broken, wise father.” “What do you see there?” “Nothing at all, wise father.” Then he said to him, “My son, there is a subtle essence which you cannot see, and truly, my son, it is because of the very essence that this great fig tree stands tall. Trust me, my son. That which is the subtle essence of the true self is the whole world. That is the truth. That is the self. Shvetaketu, you are that!” This was an idea that one can see again and again. To find man's purpose, and sense of self, and God, one needs to look inward, not toward dogma or the grandiose. The nature of the universe can be found in a seed, a drop of water, a flower. As I came to learn, Kabir expressed these same themes 1000 years later. Kabir Poem 14:45 Don't wander in outer gardens Your body is abloom Sit on eight lotuses and behold the countless forms within Doug Still 14:59 Looking at the banyan tree in the paved courtyard at IIT, I thought it was like an elephant in a cage, bucking at its enclosure. Its outer aerial roots fell harmlessly to the pavement outside the tree pit, if they weren’t already pruned away by maintenance staff. But tied up inside it was so much more, an essence that suggested the history of India itself. My thoughts went to Kabirvad, the Ficus benghalensis that we planned to visit the following week. [connecting tones] But that had to wait. It was Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights and a national holiday. It was special to be there at that time. We lit small clay lamps called “deepa” that Indians light outside their homes to symbolize the inner light that protects from spiritual darkness. We visited a classroom of children learning about Diwali, and then dropped in on a campus celebration around a gorgeous “rangoli” on the pavement of a courtyard, which is a design made of colored powders and sand during festivals. Life slows down a bit, and Srini and I were invited to friends’ homes for several dinners and brunches. Friends, and new friends are often welcomed into the home at Diwali to celebrate the holiday and share delicious homemade food. It was also the perfect time for me to ask questions about Kabir, and I brought my mic. We’re going to take a short break. When we return, we’ll listen to what people had to say, off-the-cuff, when asked about Kabir. I also meet with Linda Hess, a leading authority on Kabir, who speaks about experiencing him through music and song. [This Old Tree theme music] This is the story of visiting India’s Kabirvad banyan tree. You’re listening to This Old Tree. [raga music] Doug Still What's your name? Abhia Lakhia Abhia Lakhia Doug Still So who was Kabir to you? Abhi Lakhia 17:19 He was a poet, a kind of a Sufi, kind of basically like an old poet, a romantic in the stories I heard, yes. Also somebody who kind of was not Hindu, Muslim or anything like that. You know, he was revered as a poet. But that's it. Doug Still 17:43 Abhi and his family had invited Srini and I to dinner. We were having drinks up on the roof of his family home, a 400 year-old house in a ”pol,” one of the historic, tightknit neighborhoods of the Old City in Ahmedabad. You can hear the fireworks of Diwali in the background. Everyone I met in India at least knew who Kabir was. To Abhi Do you know any of his songs or poems? Abhi Lakhia 18:10 No, but maybe without knowing them. Because you know all these Hindi songs and stuff, they all actually come from, right? All kinds of old sayings and shayaris and poetry. I guess he was a shire Shayarer? [laughs] Doug Still 18:28 I don't know what that is. Abhi Lakhia 18:30 Yeah, it's like this double saying, you know, it's a thing, shayari, it's a poetry, a public poetry. Doug Still 18:40 Abhi hit on something I learned almost right away. Saint Kabir didn’t associate with any one religion, even though Hindus, Muslims, and Jains all claim him. But he was a spiritual figure nonetheless. Here’s an explanation from a man I met at a garden party named Jayraj Bhatt, a businessman and uncle to Rajiv Bhatt, a friend of Srini and one of the tabla players in the music we’ve heard. Jayraj Bhatt 19:05 The theme about his poems was spirituality, because basically he was a saint, a kind of Saint which was above all the religions. Because Kabir always said that the inner, the inner realization of the truth, is above all the religions. Because he made it so clear - a difference between religion and spirituality. Religion is about all mental beliefs, dogmas, or theories and kind of rules, whereas spirituality is freedom, is the realization, is the vision, is the experience. That is what he always insisted. And so one story is, very famous in India about Kabir, that when he died, when he left his body, the Hindus - Hindu means the religion that is prevailing in India - so the Hindus said that he is a Hindu saint, so we will take him to the cremation ground. But the Muslims, the other faith, they said no, he is a Muslim Saint. Because he talked about everybody, because he was above all the religions. So he always said, be true to your religion - whatever religion, whatever faith you have - but be true, then you will get the truth. But if you are not true inside, if you are not sincere, you will not get anything. Doug Still 20:49 For some Indians, Kabir was the source of a life lesson that comes in the form of a doha - d,o,h,a - which is a two line, rhyming couplet in Hindi verse. Here's one from the wife of Rajeev, after we found a quiet place to talk. To Anuja Okay, could you state your name? Anuja Bhatt My name is Anuja. Doug Still Anuja, and you're going to read a doha. Anuja Bhatt That's right, a Kabir doha. [Kabir Doha, okay] Doha spoken in Hindi. And the meaning is, be slow and everything will be all right. Doug Still 21:26 Wonderful. Thank you. [Thank you.] The next doha is from Sudanshu Sharma, a professor of chemistry at IIT who invited me to meet him in his office. He's also a poet himself. Sudhanshu Sharma 21:38 My memory about Kabir Das, which is his full name, goes back to when we were reading about his birth stories and the couplets that he used to write, which in Hindi are called as dohas. So this goes back to my school days, and we had, you know, usually in schools, you have a prayer ground, and then you assemble, and then prayer happens. So there is one couplet which every day we used to recite. It is (doha in Hindi). It means, “I was looking for the bad things around the world, and I could not find them. But when I looked inside my heart, I found that I was the worst person in this world.” So it means you have to correct first yourself, then only you can see the world. Doug Still Wow. So this was the couplet which you used to recite every day. Sudhanshi Sharma Every day. And this is where I got that. This is Kabir. Doug Still 22:44 It's amazing that you have these memorized, but you've been thinking about them your whole life. Sudhanshu Sharma Yes. Doug Still It's been said that Kabir means different things to different people. Not a lot is known about his actual life. So people find the Kabir they want to find. At another gathering, I actually met a man named Kabeer, so I had to ask him about it. To Kabeer Okay, could you state your name? Kabeer Jesusa 23:08 My name is Kabeer, and my last name is Jesusa. Doug Still 23:12 Wonderful. And could you tell me about how you were named Kabeer? Kabeer Jesusa 23:16 That's very interesting. I was named by my father after the famous Saint Kabir. My father was in post office, and he used to read a lot of books that used to come in the mail. And he had in his mind that when his second child would be born, he would likely name him after the Saint Kabir. If it is a boy. Doug Still 23:39 I see, so you're the second child. Kabeer Jesusa 23:41 Yes. I feel it had an important role to play in how I think and how I developed my character. I remember that when I was in school, people used to ask me, what is the meaning of my name. And my teachers used to tell me that there used to be this famous Saint Kabir, and I used to always be curious and go to the library to see who Kabir was. And it was at that moment of time when I used to read his dohas. I realized how he used to weave complex ideas, spiritual ideas, into simple words. Doug Still 24:15 Could you recite one? Kabeer Jesusa 24:20 Yes, there is this very important one of the first dohas that I remembered learning. The Doha goes as (poem in Hindi verse). The meaning of this doha is that a student is asking that in front of me, I have my teacher and I have my God. So whom should I go to first? Kabir Das says that you should first go to your teacher, because if a right teacher is not there, you would have never met your God. So in Indian tradition, because this most important doha made me realize the importance of finding a right teacher in your spiritual journey. Doug Still 25:03 I met Kabeer’s father and mother at this family gathering, and they had to be the sweetest people in the world. Everyone I met was so friendly and welcoming, down to the person. Srini is part of a wonderful community in Gujarat, I could see why he wanted to return to India after years of being away. Gujarat is a relatively conservative state in India. Alcohol is banned, and there are many traditional norms that are important to practice within Gujarati culture. The state has its own language, and the cuisine has a sweet side to it. Narendra Modi, the conservative Prime Minister of India, was born in Gujarat and rose to power here. He has particular pride for the state, and his government has made considerable investments in modernizing its infrastructure. A long, difficult history of division between Hindus and Muslims exists. It’s a deep-seated conflict that persists strongly in some pockets, but is fought against just as strongly in others. In my limited exposure, I found that the people of Gujarat look out for each other. According to Srini, you must depend on other people in India. Social isolation is not really an option. Everyday existence - food, transportation, information, contacts - is helped greatly if you “know a guy,” or know someone who knows a guy. That’s essential to get things done and make life work. People are highly connected by cell phone via an extensive 5G network that reaches everywhere. And as an urban forester used to managing trees in sidewalks, I couldn’t help but observe the streetscapes during our several visits into the dense urban center of Ahmedabad. India is rough around the edges, and I mean that quite literally along the streets. Curbs are often lacking, and parking areas in front of nice buildings are dusty and unpaved. The transition between building and street is filled randomly with bikes (called cycles), motorcycles (called bikes), parked rickshaws or “tuk-tuks,” cars, and yeah, garbage littered everywhere. Pedestrians just sort of walk along the side of the street around everything, the chaotic traffic flowing around you. I had to learn the unofficial right-of-way rules that all Indians know, get over the fear, and build trust that drivers of moving vehicles saw me and would adjust, horns beeping. Add to that lots of stray dogs, and sometimes cows. And the city trees were remarkable to me. They squeeze into the tightest, most inhospitable places, wherever they can without tree lawns or planned spaces. In holes in the pavement, compacted open soil, against buildings, in very narrow medians, sometimes smack dab in the middle of the street with no “tree pit” to speak of! But there they were, growing nonetheless, astounding to the eye of a western arborist. In particular, Neem trees survive in these tough conditions that would doom a linden, oak, or maple tree. One last observation - and some foreshadowing prior to the visit to Kabirvad - smoke is everywhere. Wherever you go - the center of Ahmedabad, the countryside, the campus of IIT, there is always a little smoke in the air, and sometimes a lot. Said Srini, and this is a direct quote, “There is always something on fire in India - garbage, leaves, incense, or even people.” It adds to the larger smog problem, a serious air quality issue. One morning I got up and looked directly at the sun at sunrise, its rays mediated through smog. But this is not news. For a visitor, it's just part of the experience, and I have to say you just kind of get used to it. Surprisingly, this doesn’t make India smell “bad.” It’s a bit smoky, but incense wafts from homes and concession areas, and the trees, shrubs, and flowers are highly fragrant and make the air sweet. Kabir poem Much thinner than water, subtler than smoke, swifter than wind, Kabir's friend. Mahatma Gandhi was born in Gujarat, in the port town of Porbander. Following his return from South Africa, he established an ashram on the outskirts of Ahmedabad and lived there for twelve years. It was comprised of very simple buildings surrounded by farmland on the banks of the Sabarmati River, although now an urban neighborhood of the expanding city. It became a meeting place and symbol of resistance during the Indian Independence Movement. Today it is a charming little museum that you can visit. Srini took me there, and we chatted about Kabir and his influence on Gandhiji. Doug Still So we're at Gandhi's ashram. Yes, does it go by another name? Srinivas Reddy 30:15 Sabarmati Ashram is a specific name. And then I think Satyagraha Ashram, you know, the insistence on non violence, or insistence on truth was, I think, the other name. But, yeah, this is, this is one of my favorite places to come. It's so peaceful. You like, really feel Gandhiji’s presence. Doug Still 30:36 And the rivers right behind us. Srinivas Reddy 30:39 Yeah, the Sabarmati river is right behind us. Doug Still 30:43 And we just walked by Gandhi's house, and we're sitting underneath a tree next to a small building. Who lived in this building? Srinivas Reddy 30:51 Mirabai lived here, one of Gandhi's British devotees. Doug Still 30:55 Very small rooms, very simple. Srinivas Reddy 30:58 Simple living, high, thinking. Doug Still 31:01 And you used to come here, you said when you lived in Ahmedabad. Srinivas Reddy 31:05 Yeah, regularly. I loved coming here. I mean, we lived closer, so it was fun to just come in the morning, especially in the morning, it's really peaceful. Doug Still 31:12 But we were talking about Kabir. And I have a question about Kabir [sure], and Gandhi, [okay], a very basic question. [yeah] How did the teachings of Kabir, or the songs of Kabir, influence Gandhi? Srinivas Reddy 31:27 I don't know specifically, like there might be some instances we could look up. I'm sure Gandhi quoted Kabir verses from time to time. That's something we could research. But from my knowledge of both of those people, certainly, probably the biggest theme that you could get to was having Hindu-Muslim unity. I mean, Kabir himself belonged to both communities, and kind of always preached a message of communalism. And enjoying in the bliss of, you know, just God, whatever you want to call that force. And I think, as we know from Gandhiji's own life, a very committed Hindu but very much dedicated to harmony between Hindu and Muslim communities. So in that sense, I think they're both very committed to the idea of transcending these, you know, religious or communal boundaries, and just seeing the common humanity and the common land and the common situation and common home that we all share. And celebrating that Kabir - I mean, I'm from South India, but especially in North India, my guru is from North India and actually spent his first job in Ahmedabad. He used to quote Kabir lines to me all the time, because that's how it is. Every part of India has their poets, but, you know, Kabir is kind of one of those that really made its way all across India. It's like folk wisdom. So his doha, these two line couplets. You know, your people's grandmas will say sometimes, or my grandfather used to say one to me all the time, you know, Doug Still 33:05 Passed down from generation to generation. Srinivas Reddy 33:09 Yeah, it's like folk wisdom, you know. And they're very simple, but beautifully put little phrases, you know, yeah, this is the wisdom that gets passed down orally. And they're all contextual for life, you know? Like something happens where you know somebody does somebody wrong, or some trouble happens, and then you know your mom will quote some Kabir or some veda or some whatever, that will explain that situation and make everything okay, or give you the right advice to deal with it. Doug Still 33:39 I love that. I can't remember my grandparents quoting any poetry to me. [both laugh] But you know, there's folk wisdom that gets passed down when you don't even realize where it's from, right? I think of like, people quote Shakespeare all the time, and they don't know it. Srinivas Reddy 33:56 That’s right, that's right, which is interesting, because… so like, in that case, you're quoting Shakespeare, which probably Shakespeare did write. Let's say, but you don't know it's him. Whereas in India, what often happens is people come up with a verse, and it probably wasn't written by Kabir, but they're like, “Oh, well, Kabir said this.” Doug Still 34:19 So it's almost Kabir-like, something he would have said. Srinivas Reddy He would have said, exactly. Doug Still So it's more of a feeling. Srinivas Reddy 34:23 It's more of a feeling, totally. And then there's always a little twist to Kabir poems, you know? Doug Still A turn. Srinivas Reddy Yeah, a turn. And that always, that's what brings the insight, right? Doug Still 34:34 Contrariness. Srinivas Reddy Yes, exactly. Kabir Poem 34:43 If the seed is God’s form, then, pandit, why talk on about knowledge? No body, no mind, no ego, no three qualities. Nectar and poison bloom, countless fruits ripen on one tree. So the Vedas and wise ones say. Kabir says, I agree. Now tell me who gets caught and who goes free. If the seed is God’s form, then, pandit, why talk on about knowledge? Doug Still 35:19 I turned to Linda Hess, a writer, scholar, and Professor Emerita in the Department of Religious Studies at Stanford University. She’s written five books on Kabir and numerous scholarly papers. A specific focus of hers is to understand Kabir’s words as oral tradition, as songs to be performed and listened to live. We had a delightful conversation. To Linda Hess Linda, thanks so much for joining me on This Old Tree. Linda Hess It's fun. Doug Still How long have you been studying Kabir and how would you describe your work and what you do? Linda Hess 35:54 Well, a really, really long time. So well, if you want a really clean number, let's say I started in the mid to late 70’s, although we could say even a little earlier, but let's say that. That's when I worked in India on a PhD dissertation that was all about Kabir. So that's a long time ago, isn't it? Yes, and I've been working not with equal intensity every single decade, but anyway, with a lot of intensity at the present moment, on a very big collection of Kabir poetry. It's going to be published by Harvard University Press in a series of translations of Indian literature from many languages. Doug Still 36:42 When do you expect that out? Linda Hess 36:45 Sometime in the next year. We're just completing, I have a co-author on the book, and we're completing all the last checking right now. Doug Still 36:54 Great. So on the most basic level, who was Kabir? How would you describe him in your words? Linda Hess 37:01 So Kabir lived in the 15th century. Almost nothing can be said with certainty about him, because we don't have documentation. We have a lot of stories. But to understand who he was, even a little, you have to think about authors and kind of cultural situations in India, quite differently than you would here or in Europe. But anyway, he lived around in the 15th century and on until about the early couple of decades of the 16th century, meaning he died around 1518, we believe. He was a weaver, which was a fairly low status community in the still teeming holy city of Varanasi in north India, which is a Hindu pilgrimage center on the Ganges River and has been, some say, it's the longest continuing, existing, ancient city, 1000’s of year old city that has never stopped being alive. So he lived there in a culture that was a mix of Hindus and Muslims. He probably was illiterate, and yet he composed this great poetry, and he didn't write it down. And yet we have so many poems with his name on them. So the reason that we have that, is that so much of Indian literature came alive in an oral tradition, especially this type of literature, meaning vernacular literature, literature in poetry, in the language that people speak and are raised up in, and poetry that's understood by ordinary people, not Sanskrit, not elite Poetry. So it traveled. It was some - it traveled on the oral tradition, and eventually people started writing it down. So anyway, he was this amazing, powerful person, uneducated in a formal way, of a very humble class of people. Didn't write, didn't read, sang, spoke, people gathered around him, and what he composed had an amazing effect on people. But he was part of a tradition of poets who did that, poets and singers. Doug Still I see. Did he have a guru? Linda Hess So everything you might ask will be controversial. The only things we know for sure, he lived in Varanasi. He was a weaver. He lived approximately that time. Everything else is disputed. Most people believe he did have a guru, and the Guru's name was Ramananda, and he was a very famous Brahman who, normally at that time, a Brahmin wouldn't take on a low caste person like Kabir. But there are stories about how it happened, and these are some of the popular stories about Kabir and other poets. Doug Still 40:15 You mentioned that he was born in Varanasi. Did he travel as well throughout his life? Linda Hess 40:21 Your guess is as good as mine. He could well have traveled. But of course, there are places far to the east and far to the west of Varanasi who claim he was there. Far to the east is the city of Puri in Odisha, where there's a kind of pilgrimage spot that says, “This is where Kabir was.” And far to the west, as you know well, in Gujarat, there's this famous tree, and everyone, they say that Kabir was there and did some great things there. I don't know if he traveled. He might have traveled. Doug Still 41:00 So that brings me to a point that different religious traditions claim Kabir as their own. Could you explain that? What's universal in his poetry and ideology? Linda Hess 41:11 He was very remarkable in this regard. Most of the great poets, you know, there's a there's a long tradition of devotional, mystical poets in the different regions of India who composed or wrote depending on whether they were writing in their vernacular language, as opposed to writing in an Elite language like Sanskrit or Persian. So these poets can usually easily be associated with either Hindu traditions or Islamic mystical traditions - Sufi traditions, starting, you know, around the 13th, 14th century, when there were more and more Muslims living in India. But Kabir, Kabir was a person who really transcended those identities, deliberately. He refused those identities. He criticized those identities. And he himself came out of a very mixed culture, family and community. They were identified as Muslims, and yet they still had a lot of Hindu influence in their lives. And you can tell that by what comes up in his poetry and by what we know about the culture of those days. So he was a very sharp observer of society, even though he was also a very deep mystic whose poetry probes the sort of most profound nature of what it is to be a human being. And what it is to understand, you know, our body and our mind and our confusion and our suffering and the possibility of our liberation and what people talk about as God or ultimate reality. All of that he probed in a deeply inward way, but he also observed society, and he had a very sharp critical eye, and he criticized all kinds of foolishness and hypocrisy. And he criticized caste in a very fearless sort of a way. And he relentlessly criticized religious sectarianism and fighting and hatred. So he urged people to get beyond all that. And so that is why different religious communities can claim and identify with him. Sufis, Muslim Sufis, he became important in those communities, and you can still see that, mainly in Pakistan, not as much in India, Sufi singers sing Kabir Hindus definitely claimed Kabir and more and more over the centuries, the stories about him made him look more and more close to the Hindu communities. The Sikhs claimed him and actually wrote him into their sacred book. Their sacred book, which is called the Guru Granth Sahib, has a lot of poetry in it by the Sikh gurus and also by the non Sikhs who they revered. And of those non Sikh mystics, Kabir is the top one, the one that they have the most, the largest collection, so remarkable. Everybody could claim him, but nobody could possess him. If they really read his poetry, if they really listened to those songs, they would see that one of the ironies of a teacher like Kabir, and there have been others. In fact, most of the founders of religions in history have been like that. You know, they'll teach something, and then their followers will form it, will get themselves institutionalized, and then they will turn it around, upside down and pervert the teachings of that teacher. So even though he constantly tried to wake people up to their delusions, including their religious identities and hostilities, the second he was born, the legend says - I'm sorry, the second he died, according to this popular legend, the Hindu and Muslim devotees started fighting over his body, and the Hindus said, we must burn him. We must cremate him and recite, you know, mantras from the Vedas. And the Muslims said, “No, we must bury him and recite verses from the Quran,” and they actually start to fight. They pull out their weapons. And you know, this is a supreme irony when it comes to Kabir, right? Somebody goes and lifts, lifts up the shroud under which the body has been laid, and there's nothing there but a pile of flowers. So the Hindus take half of the flowers, and the Muslims take half of the flowers, and they bury it, or they burn it, and they recite the mantras and verses that they want to recite. Also, I'd like to say that you don't have to be religious to claim him. There, he is popular among secular people too, because of his eye on society and because of his sort of profound, what might call egalitarianism and humanitarianism. I know quite a few people who claim his greatness and who sort of put aside the more mystical and religious stuff, and who really just claim him as a great humanitarian. Doug Still 47:01 How would you describe his poetry? Do you have an example of a particular poem that is essential in his philosophy or the way we think about him? Linda Hess 47:13 I would choose one to represent his sharp, satirical observation of the social world and also of human psychology. You know, he nails us. And I would choose one or two which would be powerful observation. You know, he urges people to wake up, wake up, and so they would be observations about the imminence of death and how that's right in front of us, and how we've refused to look at it. And there would be some very beautiful poems of actual liberation and joy. Kabir is most famous for two types of forms, poetic forms. One is what I would call a song poem, which has, like eight lines or something, that really is sung. That's how it's come through the centuries. And one is a couplet, which is a kind of pithy, proverbial thing that gets quoted everywhere, and also it can be sung. Doug Still 48:26 I’d like to ask you about the songs of Kabir. So you've written this wonderful book, Bodies of Song: Kabir, Oral Traditions and Performative Worlds in North India. In it, you said that to understand Kabir, you need to engage with “learning in the body.” Could you describe what you mean? Linda Hess 48:46 Yes, so very simply, we could just think about the difference between reading a poem on a page and singing. You know, if you think about that for five seconds, then you understand what I mean by “learning in the body.” If you sing, even if you listen to music and you're not singing, your whole body is engaged in a way that it is unlikely to be when you're reading a poem on a page. Of course, if you really, deeply read poetry, it will because it speaks in rhythms and sounds and metaphors. You will be engaged in a bodily way, but it's much more refined. Just sing and see what that means. It engages your breath, your voice. You vibrate, you feel it in different parts of your body. You want to get up, you want to jump, you want to sway. That's the power of music. Doug Still I think we've all felt that. Linda Hess Yes, so when I turned from my work as a writer, scholar, translator, which was mainly based on texts - that's the way I was trained, studying literature - when I turned, and I'd been thinking about doing this for years, before I finally did it to a project where I was living with singers in this vibrant folk music tradition. Doug Still 50:14 …and that's the Kabir Project? Linda Hess 50:16 Well, no, the Kabir Project opened, I mean, began independently of me, and I began my work independently of it, and we met in the field near the beginning of both of our projects. So the Kabir Project was also engaged very much in these living singing traditions. But I came independently to work with the living singing traditions, with my you know, this was in the year 2002 and I had been in the village with this famous - now even more famous - singer, whose picture is on the cover of my book. Doug Still What's his name? Linda Hess His name is Prahlad Singh Tipanya. He's a village man. He lives in Madhya Pradesh in central India, in this Hindi speaking region. And he, by the time I started my project in the beginning of 2002, he was already pretty well known. But today, 22 years later, he's a very famous kind of… and I started my project at the beginning of that year, and Shabnam started her project, which is a filmmaking project, late in that year. And we met in his area, and we said, “Oh, wow. Our projects are very similar.” Doug Still 51:40 A quick aside. Shabnam Virmani is a documentary filmmaker who has made a series of incredible films about Kabir and the contemporary musicians who perform his work for audiences. She just published a book called Burn Down Your House: Provocations From Kabir. I'll include it in the show notes. Linda Hess 52:00 And then we started hanging out together, and we really hit it off, and we loved being together. And so in many ways, our projects intersected. Doug Still 52:09 Was there someone you met through the Kabir project that surprised you, or that also helped deepen your understanding of Kabir? Linda Hess 52:20 Yeah, many people. And you can meet these people in Shabnam's films. The films are really great. Sometimes it would be some old man. Again, I got this from Shabnam. She found some of these people, some old man in a village who is never going to be on an international stage. He's never even going to be on a stage in the local, you know, provincial capital, or in Delhi, like some of these singers are, but he is amazing. You know, he is, I'm thinking of one particular person in one of her films, who was not literate. He was an old man, but the knowledge he had was just amazing. You know, people have internalized this and embody it themselves in the way he could speak about it, the way he could gesture about it, you know. Oh, I should mention that the people for whom Kabir is particularly iconic, are low caste people. Dalits, who - Dalit is the name that is preferred by people who used to be called untouchables, who were the most degraded and oppressed of anybody in the caste system of India. For them, Kabir is a great hero because he was, although not technically, of the Dalit or formerly untouchable class, he was of a very low status in the caste system. And now they feel that his greatness enhances their status and respect in the society, and it does. And each one of these experiences shines in its own right. You know, all of them are there in my memory and in my gratitude. Doug Still 54:15 I’d like to turn now to Kabir and trees. Are there any tree references or metaphors in his poetry, and specifically about banyan trees? Linda Hess 54:25 You know, I don't know any in all of his poetry and song that I've encountered. I have never seen a particular reference to the banyan. The tree comes up as a metaphor quite often. Usually it's not a particular tree. The tree is mostly a metaphor, and it's a metaphor, again, for something in the human body, and for yogic experience that happens in the human body. So the fullest evocation of the tree is of a very strange upside down tree, whose roots are in the air and that is full of paradoxes. It has no branches trees or leaves, but it flourishes and flowers. Then there are other sorts of lovely, random imagery of trees, including, for example, and I can quote this. This is a couplet that's pithy and nice, but I have to dig it up for you again. It's a symbol of transiency and an exhortation. It's an exhortation to wake up and to live while you're alive. It says, you know, a wind comes and blows the leaf far from the tree. Once it's far from the tree, it's never going to come back to the tree. Doug Still 55:52 What is the likelihood that Kabir visited the island on the Narmada River, where Kabirvad stands? Linda Hess 55:59 Let us imagine that he did. Because Kabir sometimes, in fact, often people - including the singer that I work with, and including some scholars who appreciate that - this kind of poetry and this kind of song and this kind of life in the living culture goes beyond what you can document historically. They will say things like, “Kabir is more than an individual. He's like a flowing river that tributaries come and join and that lives in the lives of the people.” So let's say that Kabir is there, still. You visited that place. You found that people go there because they feel that Kabir is there. Let's say he was there. And actually, the amazing quality of the banyan tree - how it sends forth its branches and they become new trunks, and it spreads and spreads - is a wonderful metaphor for the oral tradition itself, which spreads like that. You know you can use a metaphor of river and tributaries and rain, but the banyan tree itself is a beautiful metaphor like that, that grows and takes on its own life, and has new trunks and shelters people, and inspires in places where you wouldn't have guessed it at the beginning. It's a great living monument to Kabir. Doug Still 57:30 I’m going to end with this question. What does Kabir poetry mean to you, personally? Linda Hess 57:36 Yeah, it means a very vibrant experience which most deeply has to do with an inner awareness of stillness, which we very rarely know. But then emanating out from that, I see how that relates to the whole fluctuating, colorful world. He was able to do both of those things. Doug Still 58:06 Linda, thanks so much for coming on the show. I really appreciate it. I learned so much about your thoughtful research, and about Kabir. [This Old Tree theme music] Linda Hess 58:14 Well, it was wonderful to be on such a show as yours. I really like your show, so thank you for asking me. Doug Still 58:23 After another short break we visit Kabirvad. This is This Old Tree. [Raga music] Doug Still As I said, in India it helps to know a guy. A professor and colleague of Srini’s at IIT happened to be a former manager with the Gujarat State Forest Department, the bureau that manages Kabirvad. Hearing that we were going to see Kabirvad, he made a call. Soon, we had an appointment to meet the current state forester the day of our upcoming journey, a man named Ronak Kevadiya. Srini and I met the young forester late morning on a Thursday in the City of Bharuch, and also met up with three other friends interested in seeing the tree with us: a professor of Earth Sciences named Vikrant Jain, his son Shrenik and another student. The forestry department provided a sit-down lunch, and then I interviewed Mr. Kevadiya. He had only had a couple months on the job as Range Forest Officer. I asked him about his responsibilities. Ronak Kevadiya 59:42 As forest officer, it is my duty to protect forest land, then grow some plantations of the trees. So we have to manage our wildlife that is staying inside the forest. We have to give some livelihood to the forest department people and all these are the main responsibility. Apart from this, we have also responsibility of preserving our heritage banyan tree, that is called as Kabirvad. It is declared as a protected tree for us. So no one can go inside, no one can harm the tree. Doug Still Is it a sacred grove? Ronak Kevadiya Yes, it is sacred grove because it is being named after Saint Kabir. So, Saint Kabir is our very renowned bhakti saint. He was there in the 15th century in India, 15 to 16th century, I think yes. So it is named after a saint. So there is some religious belief also associated with history, yes. So it is considered as very much as a sacred grove of not only Bharuch, but also the whole of Gujarat and the whole of India. Doug Still 1:00:51 What does it mean to be a sacred grove in India? Does it mean there are extra protections? Ronak Kevadiya 1:00:56 Yes, extra protection. We can't allow anyone to cut any Banyan branches or prop roots. So we are also taking measures to help grow the tree. So like we are whatever the new prop roots are there. So we enclosed that prop root in one steel cage and one tube so that it can go into the ground very easily. Doug Still 1:01:18 I see, so the aerial root, yeah, the branch, you put a tube around it. Ronak Kevadiya 1:01:23 Yes, around root so we can ensure the safety also. So what we are doing is we are putting some steel tubes around their prop roots. We fill that tube with manure and soil and everything, so that it can grow in some growing environment, so that it can go into the ground very early, and it can establish into a well formed trunk. Doug Still 1:01:43 Ronak didn’t come with us, but he assigned two foresters as guides. They were more like park rangers, impeccably dressed in well-pressed uniforms with epaulets, caps, badges, and polished shoes. Our fired up entourage drove 30 minutes through rural countryside with wandering groups of water buffalo and Dalits working the fields, many of them women. We parked near the ferry boat that would take us across the Narmada river to the island. Concession booths lined our walk to the river, offering water, snacks, fruit, and souvenirs for tourists and pilgrims visiting Kabirvad. We got a sweeping view of the river as we descended down some stairs to the shoreline. It was smooth and calm, flowing very slowly. [live audio of group walking] There are sheep and goats. It suddenly got very hot. Doug Still There are crocodiles in the Narmada, but disappointingly, I didn't see any. Our group walked onto a floating dock made of plastic cubes, about 50 yards long, out to where the boats moor. We were really feeling the heat now, 95 degrees, but it felt even hotter in the direct sun. We waited for the ferry to arrive, and we were joined by groups of Indian tourists, mostly families. There were 29 of us on the boat. [live audio on the boat] So is that it or across the water? That's the island. It must be Kabirvad. Doug Still On the other side, we hopped out and walked up a hot, dusty slope. [live audio of group walking] We're passing a herd of goats. I'm holding on to my mic. Doug Still There were more concessions staffed by people who looked like they were struggling. We walked under an arch of connected logs, possibly made of cement, that looked like a schematic elephant. There was a wall of green ahead, but it was hard to tell what Kabirvad was at this point. But clearly we were to enter through an archway of foliage. We stepped through. Kabir Poem 1:04:06 Now I'll know only the king's story. Breaking forth from the luminous center, Ram's light, the guru’s word, the path. A tree, form of the infinite, revealed by awareness. No trunk or branch no flower or fruit, nectar flowing, sound undying. A bee, aroused by the sweet scent of a lotus, presses the twelve to its heart. In the midst of sixteen a blast of wind. Fruit blooms in the sky. Meditation in utter simplicity waters the tree. Earth soaks up the sea. Kabir says, I’ll walk with anyone who has seen that tree Doug Still 1:04:59 The air was immediately cooler. Our eyes adjusted to the dark shade, the bright sun left behind. There, the tree’s full glory came into focus. To truly appreciate a banyan, you need to stand beneath it, or inside it. A stunning conglomeration of trunk groupings spread out as far as we could see, connected in both upper and lower canopies with large horizontal branches as thick as trees. Surprisingly, large expanses of open ground separated the trunks, calling us to walk in and explore, to look up and down, and directly through. Kabirvad appeared to be a woodland with a high canopy, spacious and airy. But it wasn’t a woodland, not really. It was one tree. The “wow’s” left our mouths, and we all fanned out a bit, although the Gujarati foresters stayed close to me. Each trunk was a feast for the eyes, pulsing with intertwined aerial roots and trunks and branches. The amount of biomass was stunning. I could see up close how horizontal branches were supported with new trunks, but also sent new scaffold leaders straight up into the canopy dome. The steel tubes that Ronak spoke could be seen scattered around, protecting the thin, dangling aerial roots from damage. They were painted yellow by the Forestry Department. Indian families crowded in front of trees and sat on branches to pose for photos. I took a lot of pictures myself. Concession tables were along the path inside the tree too, and one thing was very noticeable. A very loud, pounding sound reverberated everywhere made by a machine crushing sugarcane. You couldn’t escape the noise, except maybe on the far end of the site. My thought was such a thing wouldn’t be allowed next to the General Sherman tree or another National Park Service attraction in the States. But despite Kabirvad being a sacred grove, people were living and working here, surviving under the protective branches. Probably like people have for five centuries. Another pervasive sound was the swish swish of straw brooms wielded by female workers, raking the ever-falling debris from the tree into piles. The piles are swept to the edges, and to get rid of them they are burned. The smell of smoke pervaded the air. Our group gathered again on the central paved path, which took a turn into an open plaza. On one side is a three story building, possibly a guest house for visitors or pilgrims. Next to that is a house, but most importantly a pink, modern temple to Kabir can be found here. We took our shoes off on the steps and climbed up to the second floor overlooking the landscape. Photography was not allowed. The whole scene was remarkable. A small complex of buildings inside a tree! A few other species of trees were growing in this center area along with Kabirvad’s banyan trunks. Some grew up against buildings, causing cracks in masonry and pavement. If given to their own devices, the trees would obviously reclaim this plaza, and the buildings within it. Banyans are strangler figs, after all! We continued to walk through the tree. Families of langurs were everywhere, the same monkeys seen at IIT. They were leaping in the trees, on the walls, and on the ground, very active. The babies were adorable. Langurs coexist with humans without much harassment or conflict. Other animal life was plainly visible. One area of canopy above had a colony of very, very large bats fluttering about. They are the Indian Flying Fox, or Giant Fruit Bat. The wingspan is 4 to 5 feet, one of the largest bat species in the world. They eat fruit and help disperse seeds. They were impressive, and quite intimidating. Eventually, we reached an area at the far, far end of the tree. Srini, Vrikant and I and sat down on a log to have a chat Doug Still You were born ready, Reddy? Srinivas Reddy 1:09:30 From day one, I was born Reddy. [laughter] Doug Still 1:09:34 Well, we're here sitting under Kabirvad, and after spending a bit of time here, what are your general impressions? Srinivas Reddy 1:09:44 It's just kind of breathtaking, actually, to see the tangle of life that can create a structure like this. I feel like it's a type of architecture, natural architecture. Doug Still 1:09:58 I think a tangle is a good word. Yeah. Srinivas Reddy 1:10:02 Yeah, and you can't really figure it all out. It's too complex to, you know, map it all out, because it flows on top of each other, itself. It happens over hundreds of years, and then you just see this architecture. That was the word I was telling Vikrant, it seems like a type of architecture. Doug Still 1:10:20 Yes, with spaces in between, large spaces. Vikrant Jain 1:10:26 Yeah, it's really fascinating. I have never seen such a large tree in terms of the area and yes, Srini mentioned, it provides a natural architecture. Besides this, I'm also seeing its impact and its relationship with the river and… Doug Still 1:10:46 …that's your specialty, studying the river. Vikrant Jain 1:10:49 Yeah, that's my interest, to work on the river, to understand the river behavior, and processes. And what I'm seeing is that this big tree is able to hold this space on this big, big river. It's a high energy river. The Narmada is known for that. And if you see the older satellite images, they are the areas where the bank rose and has been there. But this tree is really intact, is yet holding the space. And so it's maintained that space for itself. So with them, we come to know that we don't know the exact age. But the idea is that it may be 400, 500 or maybe 1000 years old. There is no dating of this tree. And in fact, we don't know that which is the main trunk. And without knowing the main main trunk, it cannot be dated. That's the thing. Doug Still 1:11:38 Srini, what are you hearing and smelling and sensing. Srinivas Reddy 1:11:45 Well, we came across the river in this boat. So we had some life signs of the boats and the river moving along. But the big thing that I was smelling was the smoke. You know, people are gathering the leaves, and burning the leaves, which also creates kind of a mystical atmosphere when the smoke goes up into the branches. Doug Still That's right, I hadn't thought of that. Srinivas Reddy Yeah, I mean, it's kind of, you know - temples also have a lot of smoke. You're burning incense, and so it kind of, it's like you're entering this tree temple. That’s the feeling I got when we first got here. And it has a kind of aura about it, and it's kind of dark inside. And in terms of the look, though, what I was thinking is like it looks like this creature, you know, moving its hands and then putting hands down somewhere, and then like another arm is coming somewhere else and putting its five fingers down. It's like this huge tree creature. Doug Still 1:12:43 And I'm seeing these protective metal tubes around the aerial roots. The people are messing with sometimes, and they want to protect the tree. Is there anything you didn't expect? Vikrant Jain 1:12:57 No, but it's really nice to see how well it has been protected, because they are saying that if those small, these tree roots are there, and when they grow during winter time period, these langurs actually eats those branches, so they protect those branches, and that's always there. I was not expecting that they are so young, because this protection was started around 10 or 15 years old. So it means that all this, like muscular branch branches, it looks like 50 or 60, years old. But now, now, yeah, we know that they are only 10 or 15 years old. So the growth of tree is faster, and that is very fast, that is very fast, and it can be explained by the presence of the river - lots of water, lots of nutrients. Everything is there, and the tree is strong. Doug Still So the soil looks rich. Vikrant Jain The soil is rich. So all those things are there, and the tree is growing with the support of the forest department. Doug Still 1:13:56 So the legends have it that the banyan's life began when Kabir was here in the late 15th century. But it's not a stretch to imagine that the tree is older, in my opinion, just because it's so large and already spreading its branches when he was here. Now that you've seen it for yourselves, could you see why Kabir might set up and live here for a few years. Srinivas Reddy 1:14:21 Yeah, well, sitting under the banyan tree is a big part of Indian culture everywhere, especially for Sadhus and spiritual people. So I could very well see him, you know, finding the tree. And I think the story is that he had a banyan tree that he was using as a toothbrush, right? Or a banyan branch. So the banyan tree was probably here already, and then it maybe grew really big after him. Doug Still 1:14:49 That could be. We saw a lot of banyans across the river. Srinivas Reddy 1:14:53 We did. The funniest thing to me is that there's a temple to Kabir, which is totally not Kabir. Doug Still 1:14:58 Yeah, that's right. [both laugh] Srinivas Reddy 1:15:02 I mean, the tree is a Kabir temple. That's how I feel. I mean, that's why he came. The power of the tree, it has its own holiness and sacred quality to it. Doug Still 1:15:13 What do you think Kabir would have thought of you describing it as a temple? Srinivas Reddy 1:15:17 I think you have been okay with that. You know, he'll talk about, like, the temple within, the temple in your heart, like some kind of sacred thing inside. Maybe this is, yes, a reflection of that sacred thing outside. More so than a temple, or… Doug Still 1:15:36 A human built temple, yeah, with hierarchy. Srinivas Reddy 1:15:39 This is not institutional, it's nature. And I think he would be happy with that. Doug Still 1:15:45 I imagine there has always been a community under this tree too, that welcomed him in. Vikrant Jain 1:15:52 Yes, it is possible. Doug Still 1:15:55 Do you think the reverence for Kabirvad reflects something profoundly Indian? Or maybe that's a limiting question. Maybe perhaps human, profoundly human? Srinivas Reddy 1:16:08 Yeah, and maybe Indian too. I mean, even though I feel sad when I see a lot of littering that happens in India, we have a deep love for trees. We do. It's part of our culture where people worship trees. People intentionally do not cut down trees when there's building going on. Doug Still So there's a sacred grove… Srinivas Reddy Yeah, a sacred grove. So there's a deep love for trees. And so there's that, but then that also attaches to our general sense of spirituality, no matter what religion you come from. Indians are, I would say, very spiritual people. We believe in things beyond the human part. And I think trees and nature are a big part of that spirituality. So this is a good combination of those elements. I'll add one thing - I'm so glad that Vikrant came and that, Doug, you came to India. I mean, I tell people all the time in America, I'm like, come to India, and no one comes. But you totally came! Doug Still Oh yeah, I wasn't gonna pass that up. Srinivas Reddy So thank you for coming. Doug Still 1:17:14 I knew this sprawling banyan on the Narmada River was one of the great trees of the world. For me, it had to be experienced in person. As I learned, Kabir and his songs are best understood when felt in the body through music and shared community. Similarly, Kabirvad is best understood in the body, through the senses. Eyes registering the dark, tangled complexity of nature; skin feeling the cool air; nose smelling smoke and dusty, fallen leaves; ears listening to the motor of the sugarcane smasher, as well as the sounds of birds, voices, and the sweeping of leaves; tongue tasting the salty lemonade purchased at the concession stand.This is a different way of experiencing nature than I’m used to in the States. Tree and human presence are integral. Communities of people and communities of nature have coexisted here for centuries. History, culture, and spiritualism are interwoven within the banyan’s many trunks. That’s what makes this tree special. For many, finding the great Saint Kabir and marveling at Kabirvad are one and the same. [This Old Tree theme music] Thank you tree lovers, for joining me on this journey. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. A special, heartfelt thanks is extended to Srinivas Reddy. Without his ideas, hospitality, and love of trees this exploration of Kabirvad wouldn’t have been possible. I’d also like to thank Abhia Lakia, Jayraj Bhatt, Anuja Bhatt, Sudhanshu Sharma, and Kabeer Jesusa for sharing their Kabir poems. Ronak Kevadiya and Vikrant Jain spoke thoughtfully about the tree Kabirvad. The atmospheric Raga Ahiri that we listened to throughout the episode was performed by Srinivas Reddy, Rajiv Bhatt, and Sameer Sahasrabuddhe. All of the Kabir poems were read beautifully by Gairik Sachdeva, and the poems and translations were provided by Linda Hess. Lastly, many many thanks to Professor Hess for sharing her work and perspectives on Kabir’s songs and legacy. I enjoyed the interview tremendously. I’ll be posting photos of Kabirvad and other subjects included here on Facebook and Instagram. The show website is thisoldtree.show. Once again thanks for listening. I’m Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. See you next time! This Old Tree with Doug Still
London’s Charlton House Mulberry - Transcript Season 2, Episode 8 November 18, 2024 Doug Still 00:00 You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug still. Did you know the British are mad about mulberries? [music] Sure, they are a people that love trees and horticulture in general, but the mulberry tree seems to hold a special place in their hearts. It has been the subject of nursery rhymes, poems and artwork. Ripe mulberry fruit has long been foraged, to be mashed into delicious jelly, syrup, smoothies, or sprinkled on biscuits with whipped cream. Historic landscapes and royal parks feature the tree, including the garden at Buckingham Palace that houses the UK National Mulberry Collection. Old mulberry trees can be found all around London if you know where to look. And looking for them is the mission of a local organization called Morus Londinium, which maps where they are and offers tours for the “mulberry curious.” On a recent trip to London, I had the pleasure of interviewing the group's leader, Peter Coles. Peter told me to meet him at the oldest living specimen in London, a 400 year old black mulberry on the grounds of a Jacobean mansion called Charlton house. I also had a lesson in the manor's history from the Chair of the Charlton and Blackheath Amateur Horticultural Society, Dr Stella Butler. To understand why this amazing tree is standing where it is today gets at the essential story and mystique of this gnarly but fruitful species. You might guess that it has something to do with the Crown, and you'd be right, but you might not guess that it was a government decree gone awry that led to the mulberry’s popularity. Join me to hear all about the Charlton house Mulberry. I'm Doug still, and this is This Old Tree. [This Old Tree theme song] Doug Still 02:21 Charlton House and Gardens was way across London from my hotel in Kensington, so it took about an hour to get there by train. Charlton is a leafy neighborhood on the south bank of the Thames, right next to the Royal Borough of Greenwich. In fact, it used to be part of it. I arrived to find an impressive three story brick manor house with a tower on each end. It's set back off of Charlton Road, fronted by a large lawn and symmetrical planting beds. Pedestrians with dogs and pushing strollers were finding their way around to a public park at the rear of the house, where you can also find gorgeous perennial gardens surrounded by brick walls that are maintained by a small staff and volunteers. The house is now a museum open to the public, managed by the Royal Greenwich Heritage Trust. I met Peter in the cafe. You may remember Peter from a previous episode when I interviewed him remotely about another mulberry tree in Truro, Massachusetts. After some tea, we strolled back to a corner of the front lawn where their noble tree is located, surrounded by a circular iron fence for its protection. We chatted there, and I got to know him better. So I'm at the Charlton house mulberry with author Peter Coles, who wrote the book Mulberry. 2017? Peter Coles 03:42 2019 actually, at the very end, actually Doug Still 03:44 Such a beautiful book with glossy pages and great illustrations. That really caught my attention, one of my favorite books. Peter Coles 03:53 Oh, good. Thank you. The content is down to me, but the presentation is the publisher. They're a very good publisher. Doug Still 04:01 Now you're also the manager, or I don't know what you would call it, of Morris Londinium. Peter Coles 04:06 Yeah, I co-founded this, and I'm also the person who runs it from day to day. Doug Still 04:10 What is it? How would you describe it? Peter Coles 04:12 It is a citizen science mapping project, really, I suppose, whose ambition was to document and preserve, initially, London's mulberry tree heritage. And by London, we meant within the ring road really, which goes around the city, called the M 25 and that just defined a geographic area for us. And when we applied for funding to get this project going, we had to make it achievable and definable, and so that we could measure some kind of progress and results. So we defined it to that area that was in 2016 and we got funding for 18 months for that, and it's now grown a lot since then. So, its ambition then was to document, preserve and raise awareness of our mulberry tree heritage, which is unique. There isn't another country in the world that has exactly the configuration we have of mulberry trees. Doug Still 05:12 Peter described others who were an inspiration during the early days of Morris Londinium. The first was Tim Tyler from Bristol in the southwest of England, who had been documenting mulberry trees. Secondly, a blogger who goes by the pseudonym “The Gentle Author,” had been writing about mulberry trees in his popular blog Spitalfields Life. Spitalfields is a neighborhood in the East End that used to be the silk weavers district of London, home to immigrant Huguenots from France in the 1600s who brought silk industry knowledge with them. The Gentle Author had been telling this story and mapping the mulberry trees. Additionally, Peter had been collaborating on historical research with Karen Liljenberg, a Tibetan scholar interested in the provenance of early mulberry trees. James Coleman of the Conservation Foundation at the time, created the Morris Londinian website and managed it for the first two years. So there was direct interest on multiple fronts. Well, let me ask you about your personal connection to mulberries. Peter Coles Okay. Doug Still Which was the first mulberry that captured your imagination. Peter Coles 06:20 I grew up near woodlands in a place called the Chilterns, which is a district of Chalk Hills not far from London to the north. And I spent my childhood with my brothers and parents and our dog walking in the woods. So I have an affinity with trees that goes back to my earliest memories, and I'll cut the long story short. I got very interested in trees as survivors, and trees, therefore veteran trees, trees that span various generations and various centuries and so on. And I was lucky enough to live in a place called Hatfield, which has a house about the same age as the one we're standing next to, a Jacobean house from the 1600s and that has many veteran trees in it, ancient oaks and so on that are possibly 600 years old. As a photographer, since teenage years, I started to photograph these just for their beauty, and to preserve them and to record them in a way as survivors of these different generations. And I was trying to organize some what I called urban nature walks, which was trying to find evidence of nature within the city, so you don't get this notion that the city is here and it's all concrete and glass, and over there you've got the countryside and it's all cows and hedges and fields. So I was saying that nature is in the city, and without it, probably we wouldn't survive. [Very important] Yeah. So that was one of my ambitions, to take some students around, actually, and show them. And in my researching for places to take them on walks, I found an old mulberry tree, which is, I hope perhaps we'll see later on in Sayes Court, which is the other side of Greenwich to where we are now, and that belonged to a diarist called John Evelyn, who lived at the same time as Samuel Pepys, and he also witnessed the Great Fire of London. So that situates his writings as a diarist around 1666. And so my interest in this grew, and it grew to the extent that I couldn't actually really keep up with it without finding an alternative to my day job. Doug Still 08:21 What was your day job? Peter Coles 08:22 My day job was a journalist and a writer and a photographer. So that was my day job, and it still is, actually, and I translate from French to English as well. Doug Still 08:31 Would they have been documenting tree planting in the 1600s? Peter Coles 08:36 Not really. No. The notion of trees as ornament predates the 1600s but not by a huge amount, actually. The 1600s is often taken as a kind of watershed moment where interest in trees and woodlands and things started because there was a change in the relationship to trees and interest in preserving them. Doug Still 08:59 So if a tree made it past 1600, then there's a much better chance of it living, for having some legacy. Peter Coles 09:08 Yeah, and people taking an interest in preserving it, I suppose. Yeah Doug Still 09:12 I understand there's evidence that mulberries were planted in Britain well before James I. What is the earliest evidence of mulberries? Peter Coles 09:21 Okay, that's a good question, because we're standing next to a tree which has a plaque, which you've reminded me is there, which says it was the first mulberry tree introduced to England in 1608, and the House does apparently date from them. I always thought it was 1611, but what's three years, very old. Doug Still 09:39 The sign, it's cracked. Peter Coles 09:40 Old sign is cracked, and it might not necessarily be wrong either. It's just that there is some ambiguity when you look at the records as to when this house could have… Doug Still 09:49 Could I read the text? [Yeah] It says, “Tthe first mulberry tree planted in England in the year 1608, by order of King James I.” But we know that that's not true, right? Peter Coles 10:02 It wasn't the first tree in England. Now the reason that we know that's true is for lots of different reasons. One is when the Romans settled in England in the first century. AD. They really, they came and they were kind of sent out back again, and then they came back in about 73 ad, and then they stayed here until about 435 or something. They stayed here for three and a half centuries or something. And in that time, they built a lot, and they established themselves. And in some of the villas, it seems likely that they planted mulberry trees, which were - they would have known from Europe. Actually, a lot of the Roman settlers here - the people, the colonizers - were from all over the place, as they were in the army. They were from Syria, they were from Italy, they were from France, Spain. You know, what was France? Then go. They would have all known around the Mediterranean black mulberry trees, which is what we're living, what we're standing next to next. So was this the first one? Well, probably not, because it looks like from an archeological dig that was done where the original London Bridge was built by the Romans, which is a wooden bridge. And there's a church there called the Magnus the Martyr, which was a wharf for importing fruit and vegetables and things for people the Roman, true Roman colonizers living here, and some of that came from quite a way away, and they found mulberry pips in the archeological dig in these archaeological evidence. And the mulberry seeds that we found are either related, or the archeologists have found are either related to religious sites, like their shrines and things like that temples so as part of a ceremony, possibly as fruit. Or as they are as in villas where they would have been used as a garden ornamental, which we know that they did back in Rome. Doug Still So more for the nobility. Peter Coles They would have been, yeah, not the troops. So people often say, “Oh, the troops were given mulberries because they were nutritious, they have medicinal functions,” and so on. But there's no real evidence for that as far as the historians are concerned. Doug Still 12:05 I’ll take a minute to explain. There are three main species of mulberry trees, red, white and black. There are a number of other minor species worldwide. In his book, Peter describes the big three, like cousins with very different personalities, even though they are from the same family. The red mulberry, Morus rubra, is native to North America and is becoming hard to find in its original form due to the presence and hybridization with the imported white mulberry, Morus alba. The white mulberry, on the other hand, is a world traveler due to humans and our desire for silk over the millennia. The leaves of white mulberry are the most favored food of the moth that produces silk, and both tree and moth originated from China. As Peter states, “No other tree has played a greater role in the economic and cultural prosperity of so many civilizations for so many centuries.” The cultivation of silkworms is called sericulture, and the cultivation of mulberry trees, specifically for the silk industry, is called moriculture. Both were spread via the web of old trade routes by land and also by sea across Asia, the Middle East and Europe, known collectively as the Silk Road. It can now be found thriving worldwide. We mostly consider it a weed here in the US, as it grows in empty lots along roadways and anywhere clearings occur. It mixes easily with other mulberries, producing many genetic variations. But the main point for this story is that regarding food for silkworms, Morus alba is numero uno. Then there is the black mulberry, Morus nigra, the species we were standing next to. It was originally from Persia, or modern day Iran. It found its way around the Mediterranean world through a variety of ancient civilizations, and as Peter has already explained, the Romans brought it to Britain. But it's not an ecological juggernaut. [To Peter] Would the trees have seeded in and naturalized in other places at that time? Peter Coles 14:11 Black mulberry is kind of odd, really. It has a genetic makeup which is very complex, and it means that it doesn't hybridize. So it won't mix with other trees of any kind, not white mulberries, not nothing. And the genetic variability in black mulberries is astonishingly low. And it was known even to the Romans, who had no microscopes or anything. But they knew that you couldn't breed new varieties of mulberry from a mulberry. So they don't really interbreed in that way, and their seed can be infertile. They have both males and females on the same tree very often. But yes, male and female flowers on the same tree. And these are catkins that look a bit like the catkins of some other species of tree, but they tend to be on different branches and different twigs. And the idea behind that is that they don't actually fertilize themselves. Doug Still 15:05 Peter described black mulberry as sort of a loner. You won't find colonies of it in England growing anywhere. It's more of a cultivated tree. And after the Roman period, specimens could be found within the walls of monasteries as fruit trees. When Henry VIII seized and dissolved hundreds of monasteries in the early 16th century in the aftermath of the split from the Catholic Church, the population of black mulberries likely took a hit. All that was about the change, represented by the tree we were standing under. We're going to get into all that, but first, I asked Peter to describe the Charlton House mulberry with all its charm and character. Peter Coles 15:42 Right? Well, there were ways to describe trees, but this tree is not what you sort of think about as a tree, which is a straight, tall trunk with leaves and branches, like branches coming off the sides, and kind of a leafy canopy at the top, which is a classic tree like an oak tree or an elm, or something that an ironwood, or any of these trees that we might be familiar with. This tree sort of looked like that, except it would never have grown very tall, and it would have started to lean over when it was about 80 years old, and it gradually leaned over more and more, and the trunk split. And it split into two trunks that eventually sort of fell apart from each other, and they fell onto the ground. Doug Still 16:27 Yeah. It looks like two trees. And it's leaning away from each other. Peter Coles 16:30 It’s been described in the past as two trees, which, in fact, it’s not. It's one tree which split many, maybe 2, 300 years ago, and it's now growing up as two distinct trees, in a way. Now this is called layering, to anyone who sort of knows a little bit about dendrology, the science of trees and their growth. And it's the way that mulberries like to carry on forever, really. When they get old, they like to lie down. They become less and less willing to stand upright and a bit of an effort. So they lie down, and they start putting out roots from buds that are dormant in the bark and the leaves and the branches, and not in the leaves and the branches of the tree. And they will start to generate branches that will turn into new trunks eventually. And that's what we see happening here, and that's now. They've now fallen apart, and they're growing up independently, like two kind of semi horizontal trees, both of them leaning on a circular fence, metal fence railings, which… Doug Still 17:32 …and they're propped by the fence. Peter Coles 17:36 Yeah, when people have mulberry trees, they tend to know that they lean over and they know that they don't want the tree either to fail or to fall onto a house or to fall onto somebody, so they tend to put props down for them. The interesting growth in this whole tree is a young tree which is no more than what would you call that? Say that was nine inches around, six inches around? Doug Still 17:58 Or just two and a half inches across. Peter Coles 18:01 …a two and a half to three inches across diameter tree which is growing sort of bolt upright, right in the middle of the two old trees that are growing away from each other that were possibly one tree. Doug Still 18:15 The volunteer here described it as a “phoenix.” Peter Coles 18:18 This is the Phoenix growth, exactly. Now these Phoenix trees - phoenix is the bird that arose from the ashes have been burned with flames and so on - and they came back. So this is a phoenix tree. Doug Still 18:30 The [black mulberry] leaves are generally broad with a sharp point. They sometimes resemble white mulberry leaves, in that new shoots can occasionally be asymmetrical, with lobes like a fig leaf or glove, but a more reliable way to distinguish black mulberry leaves is by the texture. Peter Coles 18:47 The leaves are very fine. They're very, they have a shine to them. They're quite thin. They're not hairy, and they can be either small or very big. Doug Still 18:57 The White mulberry has the glossier leaves. Peter Coles 19:01 Glossier leaves, and they're thin and quite flimsy, a bit more like lettuce, really, I suppose, some kind of lettuce leaf. So there's a lot of variety in the leaf shape, leaf size. But they all tend to be - all white mulberries tend to be smooth, and they tend to not have any hairs on the underside. Black mulberry is hairy and rough. If you look at it under my… Doug Still 19:22 I’m feeling one right now. [Yeah] And the bark is very beautiful, very gnarly and bumpy and full of character. Peter Coles 19:29 Yeah, the branch has a slight - the bark has a slight orangey sort of tinge to it. This one's got lichen growing on it, which is a sign that the air is quite clean here. It's an epiphyte. It's something that grows on the bark without doing any damage to it, and otherwise, in the spring, the whole ground area is covered in bluebells and primroses and wild spring flowers, basically, Doug Still 19:59 Well, one can expect a living being to have a lot of character after 400 years. Which brings me to the tree's origin story. As I said before, this tree is the oldest surviving mulberry in London, and very close to being the oldest in all of England. It dates back to the creation of Charlton House and Gardens built between 1607 and 1612 by a man named Sir Adam Newton. Who was Adam Newton? And if black mulberries were on the decline and only sporadically found, why did he plant one here? [theme music] We're going to take a short break. When we come back, we'll see how the Charlton House mulberry was one of thousands planted during that decade, kicking off a mulberry mania that lasts until this day. I'm Doug still, and you're listening to This Old Tree. [music] Doug Still Sir Adam Newton is not a huge figure in British history, so when I looked for books or scholarly articles about him, I didn't find any. Probably the leading historian of Newton is a trustee of the Royal Greenwich Heritage Trust, Stella Butler. She has recently tracked down letters of Adam Newton at the British Library, and has pieced together a biography of his life and interests. I had the pleasure of speaking with her about Newton, Charlton House, and the famous mulberry tree. She is also the chair of the Charlton and Blackheath Amateur Horticultural Society, and I asked her how long she had been at the helm. Dr. Stella Butler 21:48 Well, I've been involved since the end of lockdown, actually. So during 2021 I became involved as a volunteer gardener in what's now known as the old pond garden at Charlton house. And the volunteer program was organized by the Charlton Blackheath Amateur Horticultural Society, which had long met at Charlton house. I mean, for decades and decades it had met, you know, long before the Second World War. So there was a very close association between the Horticultural Society and Charlton house. So having joined the volunteer scheme, I joined the Horticultural Society and became a member of the committee, and then was elected Chair of the society. Doug Still 22:44 Well, I had the pleasure of seeing the gardens at Charlton House, and they're spectacular. I got some incredible pictures. Really great work. Dr. Stella Butler 22:53 Well, we're very, very proud of them. And we had a wonderful accolade this year of receiving the judges award in the London In Bloom competition. So it was a real, a real treat, real, real thrill for us all to have that kind of stamp of approval. Doug Still 23:14 Congratulations. So you began researching Sir Adam Newton, the original owner of Charlton House. There isn't really that much written about him, is there? Dr. Stella Butler 23:26 No, we particularly don't really know very much about his early life. We know that he came from Scotland. He was Scottish, although he spent some time as a young man in Paris, but we don't know very much about his background at all. What we do know for certain is that in 1599 he became a tutor to Prince Henry, who was the eldest son of James VI of Scotland. Doug Still 24:02 And that was IN Scotland, correct? Dr. Stella Butler 24:06 It was, the prince then lived at Stirling Castle. But when his father, the prince's father, James the sixth of Scotland, succeeded Elizabeth, the first to the English throne. They all moved south, including Adam Newton. Adam Newton was confirmed as a member of the Prince of Wales household, and he moved down with the prince in 1603 a couple of years later. He married a young woman called Katherine Puckering. Catherine came with a very rich dowry, lots and lots of money, and with that money, Adam Newton bought Charlton - the manor of Charlton. Doug Still 24:57 Where did the Puckering family live? Dr. Stella Butler 25:00 The Puckering family, Catherine's father was a member of the court of Elizabeth I, and he looked after Elizabeth I’s money. And while doing that, he managed to acquire lots of estates for himself. Doug Still 25:21 Funny how that works! [laughter] Dr. Stella Butler 25:26 But he lived principally at Warwick Priory. So in Warwickshire - they all had houses in London as well - but his country estate was in Warwickshire. Doug Still So he was a powerful man. Dr. Stella Butler He was, indeed, yes. Doug Still 25:43 Was Newton a favorite of the king, and was he already wealthy before he married into the Puckering family? Dr. Stella Butler 25:49 Um, he certainly wasn't wealthy. Um, the money that he had came from the Puckerings. I think that that is fairly clear. Whether he was actually a favorite of the king, we don't know. I think what we can say is that he was very well thought of because he was confirmed in the household of the Prince of Wales, and by then, the Prince of Wales, by the late 1600s you know, 1607 or 1608, the prince has really grown up. He's in his mid to late teens, and Adam Newton is still a member of his household. So I think we can see that Adam moves from being, he gets promoted, if you like, from being a tutor to being a very senior courtier in in the household of the prince who has now become the Prince of Wales. Doug Still 26:54 This is Prince Henry… Dr. Stella Butler That's right, Prince Henry. Doug Still …and so after he marries Catherine Puckering, they build the house at Charlton, the Charlton House. Dr. Stella Butler 27:05 They do, and the Charlton house, Charlton house is a very grand house. It's not huge, but it is very grand. It's very modern as well. It's quite clearly Jacobean in style. It was designed, probably by John Thorpe, who was a surveyor. It's actually an architect in the Estate Department of the royal household. So John Thorpe was involved in lots of other royal buildings, Somerset House, for example, and [?]. We know that because we don't have any actual plans from the time of its building, which was between 1607 and 1612, we're not absolutely certain. The uncertainty was added to because John Evelyn, the famous diarist, actually said that he thought the, well, he actually wrote that the architect was Inigo Jones. I suspect it probably was John Thorpe actually, rather than Inigo Jones. But either way, the house came out of the Royal Estate Department. So it's effectively part of the Royal Estate, although quite clearly owned by Adam Newton. Doug Still 28:30 How does that work? So he built the house. Was there money contributed from the crown? Dr. Stella Butler 28:37 He was in the pay of the court of James I. So yes, he was receiving his own money as well. He'd received various lands through royal patronage as well [I see]. But also, within the house - what is clear within the house is that there are lots of motifs of the Prince of Wales. So it's absolutely clear throughout the house that this is intended as a residence where the Prince of Wales would feel comfortable, and that is fit for a prince. And of course, it's up the hill from where his mum was living, down in Queen's House at Greenwich as well. Doug Still 29:31 So the prince would have come to the house. Dr. Stella Butler 29:35 If he'd lived, he would have come to the house. Unfortunately, Henry, Prince of Wales died in 1612, three months short of his 19th birthday. So unfortunately, although it was built for Henry, Henry's tutor, Henry's courtier, unfortunately Henry didn't get to live, to enjoy the house and its surroundings, Doug Still 30:04 Any evidence that the king himself visited the house? Dr. Stella Butler 30:09 No, we don't have that. I mean, it is possible that he did, but we don't know. Certainly Charles, James I’s son who became, who succeeded his brother as Prince of Wales, would have visited the house, because Adam Newton became Receiver General in Charles's household. So Adam had the stature, if you like, by that time, to be retained as a royal courtier. So he did very well indeed. Doug Still 30:52 Quite a change in history. He became Charles I, but it would have been Henry IX? What if Henry had lived? Dr. Stella Butler 31:01 Yeah, that's right, it would have been Henry the Ninth, yeah. Doug Still I see, instead of which, it was Charles the First? Dr. Stella Butler Yeah, you're right. Well, I can say that it's probably worth mentioning that when Charles came to the throne, Adam Newton was, in 1625, Adam Newton was, I mean, he was an elderly man by then, but still alive. So for the first five years of Charles' reign, Adam Newton was still at Charlton house, and may well have received the king as Charles I, but probably wouldn't have done James I, because he wasn't part of - Adam Newton wasn't part of James' immediate household. Doug Still 31:50 Well, it seems to me, the house was built to receive the royal party - the grand salon, and that sort of thing. Dr. Stella Butler 31:58 It is very much part of the royal network, I think that's what one can say. And one of the houses that the royal family and their entourage would have visited, yes. Doug Still 32:13 Who designed the landscape and gardens? Dr. Stella Butler 32:17 That we don’t know. The immediate landscaping work was probably done out of the same drawing office as the house. So it was probably laid out by John Thorpe, or possibly by Inigo Jones, but I think probably by John Thorpe. Doug Still 32:35 How would you describe the original plan? Dr. Stella Butler 32:39 I think they would have had a very Jacobean plan. So there will have been an axial path, a straight path up to the front door. It's not that far from a road. So it's not a winding country path at all. It's very much a straight path, I think. There would have been rectangular beds, and then there will probably have been kind of walks leading out into the wider parkland, which probably had trees added to it as well. Doug Still 33:17 So symmetrical in design for the most part? Dr. Stella Butler 33:21 Yes. Lots of straight lines. I think, though, there will have been lots of, probably low hedging in the Jacobean period, it's very much following on from that Tudor period, where what you get are square boxes or rectangular boxes and straight lines, really. Doug Still 33:44 So how did a black mulberry tree fit into this very ordered, formal landscape? Well, it turns out there wasn't just one. There was an entire orchard of them within the grounds on the left side of the house. Why? What was going on? Peter Cowles explains that it all had to do with King James I and his master plan to bring the silk industry across the channel to England. Peter Coles 34:09 Anyway, he came to the throne in 1604 and quite soon after that, he had this idea of building up a silk industry. Doug Still 34:19 What was his plan? Peter Coles 34:22 Okay, you have to take a broad - you have to zoom out a little bit, and you have to take in France and Spain and Italy, the other places that were actually on his horizon. And Italy, France and Spain all had thriving silk industries. They were producing silk rather than importing the fiber from Italy. That's not entirely true. They were producing silk, and they were importing thread from China and weaving their own silk, but they were also raising silk worms to spin silk that they would turn into thread that they would then have an independent source of the original fiber for their silk industries. And we didn't have that. That's a big advantage. Yeah, we were net importers of the whole thing. Not only had we to import the thread, but at one point we imported the silk as well. Doug Still And silk was highly valued. Peter Coles Worth its weight in gold. It was very transportable, and it was highly desirable, and it was in short supply. So silk - the secret of how silk was produced, was guarded by the Chinese for years. And I won't go into all the finer details of that, but that secret finally escaped. And so it was known that silk came from a silk moth that had a larval stage that spun a cocoon, and that cocoon, if unraveled, would produce something like a kilometer of silk thread, and you could then de-gum it and process it and turn it into fibers that you could then weave into silk. The Italians had a head start in terms of European countries and then the Spanish actually, but then the French. And at the time of James I, to come back to your question, France was led by Henri IV. And Henri IV really wanted to give a real boost to the their home grown silk industry, because they were also dependent on Italian and Spanish silk threads. So he and his agronomist advisor called Olivier de Serres recommended planting 1000s and 1000s of mulberry trees to feed 1000s and 1000s of silk worms, to produce kilometers and kilometers of silk thread and then be independent of China and things. There were also problems with the supply chain from China at the time. There had been banditry on the roots and things that meant that various things had not happened. So the supply chain was threatened anyway. So an alternative reason for wanting to have it, James wanted to copy Henri. [I see] Yeah, he copied him, basically. Doug Still 36:55 Who do you think was advising him? Peter Coles 36:57 Well, there was somebody called William Stallenge, and exactly what his relationship with France was, I don't know, but he seems to have been aware of some of the publications, both of Olivier de Serres and also some of the people that de Serres had used in terms of how to grow mulberry trees and how to look after silkworms. But William Stallenge was - he's down in the records as being a customs officer. But it sounds like somebody with a peak cap in Calais or… Doug Still Right a clipboard [both laugh] Peter Coles … the port of New York or something, but he wasn't that. He was actually somebody who had the right to patents on importation of goods, which is a very lucrative thing to do, which meant that you had the sole monopoly over the import and the taxes due on certain kinds of… Doug Still A powerful man. Peter Coles …so he was a powerful man within the court. And James thought, well, here's the guy who he trusts with this particular patent. And he had a French colleague called Francois de Verton, Sire de la Foret, which means seen kind of, what's it called, sire of the forest. And he and William Stallenge got the patent on importing mulberry trees and then sort of forcing, with one arm up behind your back, the aristocrats land that landowners basically to plant a few 1000 mulberry trees on their grounds and to find out how to raise silk worms to get the eggs and to hatch them and to go. Doug Still 38:23 So this would have been a natural place to have a small orchard of mulberries, because this would have been [yeah] - the king was responsible for building this house. Lot of ground… Peter Coles 38:33 The king was responsible for building it. Exactly the right period. Doug Still 38:37 William Stallenge, the Plymouth born merchant and customs official for the king was key to making all this happen. Peter Coles writes that Stallenge oversaw the publication of a book in 1607 called “The Perfect Use of Silkworms and Their Benefit,” which was written by Oliver de Serres and translated by Nicholas Geff. It was a sales pitch that forecast great profits if the industry were embraced correctly. King James was on board. He soon had 10,000 mulberry plants ordered and strongly urged the landowning ability to get on board and plant them. To set an example, James set aside four acres of land for mulberry trees within the grounds of St James Palace, which now corresponds to a corner of the garden behind today's Buckingham Palace. Sir Adam Newton was no different than anyone else in the king’s sphere. The garden at Charlton house was to have mulberry trees. I asked Stella about it. So let's get to the mulberry orchard. Have you found any mentions of the mulberry orchard in the documentary evidence that was planted at this time? Dr. Stella Butler 39:44 Not in Adam Newton's letters themselves. The letters that survive are correspondence between Adam Newton and Thomas Puckering, who was Catherine’s brother, so Adam Newton's brother in law. They do correspond about trees. Unfortunately, they don't correspond about mulberry trees. However, we do know from other sources that Adam joined in to James I’s project to establish a silk industry. And we know that Adam Newton bought, probably, I think he had to pay for them. But he bought from James, probably about 100 trees to plant in a group at the house, and we know that that one of the mulberry trees survives. Doug Still 40:48 And that's the one that we know today. Dr. Stella Butler 40:52 It is,yes, that is much cherished and looked after by the volunteer gardeners at Charlton House. Doug Still 41:00 So, as a member of the king's court, he really didn't have much choice in planting this mulberry orchard, right? I mean, it was kind of expected. Dr. Stella Butler 41:09 I think it probably was, particularly because he was building a new house. I suspect that others may have been less enthusiastic if they were having to find space in established gardens. But Adam Newton, it was a perfect time for him, because the house was built and the landscape ‘round it was developed between 1607 and 1612. So it's just at this period that James is trying to get a silk industry going, and it's just at the time that he's pushing these mulberry trees. What we do know from the correspondence between Thomas Puckering and Adam Newton is that Adam liked trees. I mean, not only did he like trees, he was fairly knowledgeable about them as well. And by that, I mean he knew he had experience of planting trees, of importing trees, of moving trees from one estate to another. The letters that we have between him and Thomas date between 1613 and 1617, and in one of them, in one set of letters, it's about Thomas, the younger man, was on his grand tour of Europe, and actually sent trees back to Adam Newton from Naples. So we have some correspondence about that. And then in 1617, we have correspondence about trees that are being dug up from Charlton House and transported to Warwick Priory, the Puckering estates in Warwickshire. [theme music] Doug Still 43:05 So James I led the way to sericultural prosperity, and England was forever known as a hub for silk thread and fabrics, right? It didn't really work out that way. After a short break, we'll find out what happened. This is This Old Tree. [music] Despite the gargantuan effort, the silk production was not what the king, or anyone had hoped for. Peter Coles 43:51 So what happened with James I and his mulberry trees is that it’s always said that he planted the wrong mulberries - the black mulberries rather than the white mulberries - in full knowledge at the time that the white mulberry was preferred. But nobody said you couldn't feed silkworms on black mulberries. Doug Still 44:09 Fingers point to William Stallenge for making the fateful decision to purchase and plant black mulberries en masse. De Serres clearly stated that white mulberry was the best for silkworms, and Italy, France and Spain successfully employed the white. But De Serres didn't rule out black mulberry altogether either, and Stallenge listened. In hindsight, it was a big failure, but one can see Stallenge's logic. Black mulberries had already proved capable of withstanding the colder, wetter British climate. Peter Coles 44:41 And the thinking was probably the black mulberry is hardier. It's got thicker leaves, and was more likely to resist the bad weather here than the white mulberry trees, which are really - they thrive in Italy in places where it gets quite hot, really, and definitely the winters are not severe. And here we were going through what's known as the Little Ice Age at the time in that particular part of the time for the next, for another 200 years. The Thames River froze over, and you could actually, there were people who were barbecuing meat and things on, you know, bonfires on the Thames. There were stalls there. People were skating on the Thames. And Elizabeth first actually went skating on the Thames at one point. So this whole thing was going [unintelligle]. So what happens when you get very hard winters? It could kill trees. It might kill white mulberry trees. It doesn't seem to have killed black mulberry trees, but what it does do is delay the coming into leaf of the tree, because they come into leaf, obviously, when the temperature reaches a certain point. So anyone who's grown silk worms will know that you have to hatch the eggs at the time when the leaves are just coming out, when the buds are just opening. Yes, so you have to get the timing right so the silkworms hatch at the same time as the leaves first come out. And if you have a very hard or late, long winter and a late spring, there's a chance, because you can actually bring on and incubate the eggs of the silk moth so they hatch at a certain time. And if you get that wrong, then you've got the nothing to feed them on, right? So the chances are that that failed, and it failed in those critical first years where nobody knew how to raise silkworms anyway. Two things happened with James. The first is that the colonies in Virginia were just being, I suppose, populated, colonized, and there was… Doug Still 46:41 So he thought, llet's put the white mulberries over there! Peter Coles 46:43 …let’s put the white mulberries over there. And you can do two things. When you do that, it's a better climate. So you've got a you know, and you've got a labor force. There were slaves coming over again, along with everything else. You've got the space for it, the climate's right, and so on. But also you've got another thing. James I hated tobacco. He hated smoking, and he even wrote a book about it. So Virginia was known for its tobacco, so he said, let's pull up all these nasty tobacco plants and let's put silk let's put mulberry trees in and we'll grow mulberry leaves for feeding silk worms, and we'll have a silk industry over there, and it took a while to get established, but it did, actually, in the end, work. So they planted white mulberries, after a little experiment with black mulberries, a little experiment with the native red Mulberry, and it didn't work, so they settled on the white mulberry. It took about 100 years before - in Virginia, but much more in Georgia and then some of the southern states - the silk industry grew up on a very viable commercial scale. For a while… Doug Still 47:50 I see. So as Americans, we have James I to thank for the white mulberry escaping into our landscape. Peter Coles 47:58 Yeah, which is a new kind of weed, which is killing off your native red Mulberry, right? And hybridizing with it. Doug Still 48:05 The silkworms weren't happy, and little silk was being produced. The endeavor failed, but 1000s of black mulberry trees were planted across the realm. Now, what? I asked about Charlton House specifically, and Adam Newton. How long did the mulberry orchard remain? What happened to it? Dr. Stella Butler 48:25 That we don't know for sure, but what we do know is, in the following century, later owners took out a lot of the trees. I mean, this was probably partly because of changing fashion, they wanted a more open aspect of the garden. But also it may well have been that some of the older trees, not just the mulberries, but some of the other trees that were planted, probably by then, had seen better days and needed to be removed. Doug Still 49:04 How long did that family stay at Charlton house? Dr. Stella Butler 49:08 Adam died in 1630 his estate was inherited by his son, Henry, who was then only 12. Henry married in the late 1630’s while he was still a very young man, and in the 1640’s became involved in the Civil War on the Royalist side. So he was on the wrong side for that war. [Yeah] Suffered terribly, particularly financially, and the money that they lost, he and his wife lost during the Civil War during the late 1640’s meant that in the 1650’s they were forced to sell Charlton House. And they left and went to Warwick Priory. They went to the Puckering estates, which Henry had inherited shortly before then. Doug Still It was the end of an era. Dr. Stella Butler It was indeed, yes. I mean, it was the end of that very close relationship with the royal family. Doug Still 50:21 But landowners didn't cut them all down, nor did they want to. There was one serendipitous benefit to all of those new black mulberry trees in the first decades of the 17th century, something to be thankful for. I'm told that the black mulberry fruit is absolutely delicious. Peter Coles 50:39 So, a lot of the fruit on the white Mulberry, Morus alba, is a dark purpley, black color. And it is also very nice to eat and nice to flavor things with. And a lot of people think that that is a black mulberry they're eating. Until you've eaten the black mulberry from Morus nigra, then you know the difference. Yeah. Doug Still 51:00 You feel that the fruit on black mulberry just tastes better. Peter Coles 51:05 Oh, it's definitely different. Yeah, no, the white mulberry tends to have a little stalk on the fruit, which makes it easier to pick. It's also quite firm, so it will come off in your hand. A black mulberry grows closer to the axial where the leaf joins the twig, and it doesn't have a particularly noticeable stalk. There is one there, but it's very short, so you've got to grab the berry. The berries are very fragile. Shakespeare talks about this, and they will fall apart in your hand very often, and the juice will run up your wrist. They're so juicy and so fragile, and so they fall about so much, fall apart so quickly that you have to eat them straight from the tree. Doug Still 51:47 That's not what it means to be caught red handed, is it? Peter Coles 51:51 That's what people say. And I have a colleague who is a tree expert, and he tells - when he gives guided walks - he tells people that. Doug Still 51:57 While I was roaming about Charlton House, I happened to meet one of the enthusiastic, hard working volunteers that make the garden so enjoyable to visit. Her name is Kathy Aitken, and she brought in another gentleman by the name of Jason Sylvan. I learned about what they do and how they care for the old mulberry tree. Kathy Aitken 52:16 My name is Kathy Aitken. Jason Sylvan And Jason Sylvan Doug Still 52:19 Jason, are you - you're a full time employee here? Jason Sylvan 52:24 I am a part time contracted head gardener. I did start off, though, as a volunteer as part of the same scheme, and have elevated my status up beyond these mere volunteers. [laughter] Kathy Aitken 52:36 Jason is now in charge of the volunteers. Doug Still 52:38 And how long have the volunteers been working here at Charlton House? Kathy Aitken 52:42 So we started in 2020, in February. So it was just before COVID, and we had about three sessions, and COVID locked us down. Doug Still 52:51 I see. It must have been nice to work outside during COVID. Kathy Aitken 52:55 Well, as soon as the lockdown lifted, it was absolutely brilliant. It started in the walled gardens. That's all we were looking after, to begin with. It was meant to be just a bit of light weeding, but then, after lockdown, we then met Jason. Jason joined the volunteers, and he had already done a garden design, which was just fabulous. And all the amateur horticultural volunteers just just went with it, which involved a lot more than just weeding. It actually meant taking it back practically to ground zero and starting again. Doug Still 53:30 What was the condition of the tree when you first started here? Kathy Aitken 53:34 The tree was not part of the volunteer scheme to begin with. So, once we got to grips with the walled gardens, we then saw the state of the wonderful mulberry tree. And it was fine, but it was covered in brambles and alconet. And I know from my own experience, I have a mulberry. We have a very baby mulberry, he's only 30 years old. But they do seem to hate things with long tap roots at their base. Doug Still 54:00 So you removed the weeds. Was there any pruning that needed to be done? Jason Sylvan 54:04 Light pruning. Yeah, not too much to the main, main structure, but where there's anything that's been snapped off, because obviously this is public thoroughfare, anyone and everyone will forage from it. Sometimes they're not as careful as other people, and they might just bend a branch down. It snaps and it's just left dangling. So things like that will - it's an obvious one that you need to tidy up in terms of sort of pruning for health. Kathy Aitken 54:30 One big branch that was dead, one big branch. Jason Sylvan 54:31 That was dead, yeah. But I mean, generally speaking, it's sort of on its own steam. And, I mean, yeah, we just kind of let it get on with itself, pretty much, don't we, because it's managing. [Yeah] Doug Still 54:44 Well, it's been here for 400 years, yes, so it probably knows what to do. [laughter] Jason Sylvan 54:48 Yeah. By this point, it sort of figured it out, yeah. Doug Still 54:51 But of course, the conversation swung back to the tasty fruit. Why are black mulberries important to to you? Kathy Aitken 54:58 The fruit. It makes very wonderful mulberry mulberry vodka. Doug Still 55:06 Mulberry vodka! I wasn't going to guess that. Kathy Aitken 55:09 Even my little 30 year old one produces enough for mulberry vodka. But I know this one they have. The Frilly’s Cafe have actually foraged a few and made mulberry jam. So that's very nice. Doug Still 55:21 Do you harvest the mulberries off this tree? Jason Sylvan 55:24 No, the public and birds tend to get most of them, and that's fine. It's a public tree at this stage, you know. So everyone's going to take from it, and it does seem to provide it. Have you tasted them yourself? Doug Still Mulberries? No. Kathy Aitken 55:39 No, because you can't buy them in green grocers, because they don't, they don't last. Yeah. So if you want to taste mulberries, you have to grow a mulberry. Jason Sylvan 55:47 So they are a bit of an acquired taste, like they are unusual, and I don't think everyone likes them. Kathy Aitken 55:53 The look puts you off, because they don’t look very nice. But if you put them in then they sort of explode in your the mouth. It's lovely. Jason Sylvan They do have this other taste that's a bit Kathy Aitken …try them in vodka. [laughter] Doug Still 56:02 Can you make a pie for mulberry fruit? Kathy Aitken 56:04 I imagine you can. I never have tried, but maybe this year, that's something if we are a bit bored with vodka. So we'll try a pie. Doug Still 56:10 I didn't know if you can get enough, but this one seems to be covered in them. Kathy Aitken 56:14 It will drop quite a lot of them. Jason Sylvan 56:17 We have seen people climbing up it like, like monkeys before. So they're really eager to get them. And I think a lot of the public sort of know, and they're - you see people walking past it and looking, eyeing it kind of, you know, in a like, “Are we going to get them first?” kind of thing. And they're just waiting for the first day when they start to become ripe. So it is known, and becoming, you know, more known every year as a prime foraging spot. Kathy Aitken 56:43 What I think is lovely too, is because theTrust that owns the property is trying to, you know, improve the house and get more footfall, to find this gem in the middle of Central London, really. And the mulberry is a big draw to the public to come and see it, because it's such a special tree. Doug Still 56:58 Why is this mulberry important to you? Jason Sylvan 57:02 Probably because it is so significant. I mean, we're adding to it now because of that importance. So we have, you already mentioned, we've planted another mulberry in the opposite corner of the estate. And the Greenwich Council grounds team who look after some of the site, lost one of their team. I don't know how they died, but they lost a member of their team, and so they planted another mulberry in the other corner of the site. So we have a commemorative one, one that we've put for our generation as part of that, our team, and this existing one. So you've got these three different sort of historical reasons why they are here. Doug Still 57:42 Thank you so much for speaking with me today. I feel like I got lucky to meet you. Jason Sylvan and Kathy Aitken You are more than welcome. Doug Still I asked Stella a similar question. What does this historic tree make you think about when you're on site at Charlton House? Dr. Stella Butler 57:55 I think it makes me think about the beginnings of the house. I think as much as those motifs of the Prince of Wales, the three feathers in the house. I think the mulberry tree represents that direct relationship with Adam Newton and with the Royal Court. So that's what it makes me think. Doug Still 58:24 Well, thanks so much for joining me today. That was really enlightening, and I learned a lot. Dr. Stella Butler 58:30 Well, it's an absolute pleasure. Doug Still 58:31 Thanks very much. And lastly, Peter Coles. Peter Coles 58:35 It’s a great tree of the British Isles. It's one of the great trees, and it's partly because it's in an urban area and it's very old. So I would say those two things really are important. Any old tree that's growing within an urban area has survived generations and centuries of decline and renewal and so on, and seeing kings and queens come and go, seeing plagues come and go, and wars come and go. So they have a heritage value beyond their natural beauty. Doug Still 59:05 Well Peter, thanks so much for joining me on this beautiful day under the Charlton House Mulberry, and talking about the history of mulberries industry in particular. Peter Coles 59:15 Well, thank you for your interest. It's been a pleasure to share what I know or some of what I know about the species that I have probably an unnatural fascination with. And there's so much more to know. Thank you so much. Doug Still 59:34 It appears black mulberry juice runs deep in British culture. I've learned that King James I had a lot to do with that, only not in the way he planned. Moriculture is the term for the cultivation of mulberry trees for the purpose of creating silk. But that word doesn't seem right anymore. In this case, mulberries are grown for their beauty, their fruit and for their own sake. I've coined a new term, “mulbiculture.” I wonder if it will stick. Regardless, it's truly special that the Charlton House mulberry tree is a living remnant of a pivotal time in British history and a witness to all that has happened since. [music] Doug Still 1:00:26 Thank you tree lovers for joining me today. Many, many thanks to my new friends and fellow mulbiculturalists Peter Coles, Dr. Stella Butler, Kathy Aitken, and Jason Sylvan for helping to tell the story. The music today was performed by an early music group out of Boston called the Renaissonics. Thank you to John Tyson for sharing it. The show's theme music is by Dee Lee and artwork by Dan Hiunii. I'll post pictures of the mulberry tree at Charlton house and gardens on Facebook and Instagram. The show website is this old tree dot show where you can also find a transcript for this episode. I'm Doug still and you've been listening to This Old Tree. See you next time! This Old Tree with Doug Still
Saving Seeds: Bartram’s Franklin Tree - Transcript Season 2, Episode 7 October 7, 2024 Doug Still: [00:01] You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still. [ambient sounds] I've always had a botanist fantasy. As a listener of this show, maybe you've had it too. I picture myself crawling along a remote mountain slope or stepping through the brush in a rainforest in order to encounter a tree or plant no one has ever seen before. I'm wearing a broad brimmed hat and spectacles, carrying a moleskine notebook and specimen bag. Mosquitoes, humidity and hardships don't touch me in this world. Worries are far away and left behind. Immersed in the wilderness, plants communicate a strange language I understand, the arrangement of leaves, the shape of seeds, the number and color of flower parts. New species are there waiting to be found and named and appreciated. What fun it is then, to learn about an uncommon tree at Bartram's Garden in western Philadelphia with a real-life botanist story. [harpsichord music] The tree is Franklinia alatamaha, known as the Franklinia or Franklin Tree. Admittedly, it's not the original tree planted at this historic 18th century property, but it's a descendant. In fact, all Franklinia found in gardens around the world are offspring of that one tree. It was found in the colony of Georgia in 1765 by John Bartram and his son, William, and William later went back to collect a specimen. Soon after, the species went extinct in the wild. They were Quaker farmers from Pennsylvania. So, how did they find themselves on a botanical quest within the wilds of the south, a new frontier at the time? The story touches on many things: interest in new world plants by amateur gardeners; the quest for social status among European aristocracy; lifelong correspondence and friendships; colonialism; and a sincere interest in the expansion of scientific knowledge spurred on by the enlightenment. Benjamin Franklin and Carl Linnaeus make appearances. A marvel for the natural world was in the air, and it was infectious. To find the Franklinia story, I interviewed Tom Reber, the energetic director of Landscape and Facilities at Bartram's Garden. I also lean heavily on the research of the late Joel Fry, a past curator at Bartram's. Lastly, I share some of the trials and tribulations of John Bartram directly from his letters to friends and associates. Join me to hear about Bartram's Franklin tree. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. [This Old Tree theme] All roads to understanding the Franklin Tree led to Bartram's Garden. I met Tom Reber there on a warm, sunny day in May. It's located in western Philadelphia in what was previously the town of Kingsessing, and the area still goes by that name. Bartram's is a sanctuary of green here. The neighborhood is struggling and is starving for trees as low as 5% canopy cover, according to Tom. Probably, the nicest guy you could meet, he had an infectious enthusiasm for the beautiful colonial garden and grounds that he is in charge of. So, Tom, thanks so much for inviting me to the garden today. We're standing next to the famous Franklinia tree. We'll talk about it more in a minute, but first, could you describe where we are in the garden? Tom Reber: [03:56] Absolutely. And thank you for coming today, Doug. Right now, we're standing in front of the John Bartram house, what we call the common flower garden. This is the upper terrace gardens, and this is where the Bartrams would have been growing herbs and other shorter season vegetable crops for their kitchen, as well as a little bit of plant study, which is why we have some trees here in this section of the garden today. Doug Still: [04:26] Got it. The house is gorgeous. So, this is the front of the house? Tom Reber: [04:29] This is the front of the house. Today, we think of the front of the house in, historically, what is actually the rear, because we all come in off of the modern-day Lindbergh Boulevard with cars and on public transit. But in John Bartram's day, the river, the Schuylkill River, was the highway, and so the front of the house actually faces the river here. Doug Still: [04:51] A symmetrical herb garden gives way to a short lawn and then paths into a woodland that is basically an arboretum. Immense tulip trees, oak, hickory, sweet gum and numerous other trees create a canopy that leads down to the Schuylkill River. When was the house built? Tom Reber: [05:08] The house was started when John purchased the farm in 1728. And by 1731, the original house is completed. Doug Still: [05:17] He built it? Tom Reber: [05:17] He built the house. There was a wooden structure here on this land when he bought the farm. That intervening three years, 1728 to 1731, he quarried Wissahickon schist locally and built a smaller structure than what we see today that he continued to add on throughout the rest of his life. Doug Still: [05:39] It's a pretty impressive house for a colonial house. Tom Reber: [05:41] It's a very impressive house for a colonial house. Doug Still: [05:44] A few trees frame the flower garden in the upper terrace. One is an impressive ancient yellowwood tree that endured significant damage during a recent storm, but has received restorative pruning and other care by the landscape staff. On the opposite corner is what we came to talk about, the Franklin Tree. So, let's talk about this tree. Could you describe what it looks like? Is it a showstopper type of plant, or something else? Tom Reber: [06:12] So, the tree that we're standing in front of today is the tree that, if people know a plant relative to the Bartram’s, this is the plant. This is Franklinia alatamaha or the Franklin Tree named for Benjamin Franklin by his good friend, John Bartram. But Franklinia is an interesting tree. I do consider it a showstopper, but it can be subtle. It's in the tea family, so it's related to camellias. The new buds and leaves can be harvested like Camellia sinensis to make a type of tea with it. I've never had that tea. Doug Still: [06:51] Camellias are not native to North America, correct? Tom Reber: [06:53] And Camellias are not native, but this is native to North America, which is part of its unusualness. The other thing is that this is-- for most people, you might walk right by this through the growing season. Doug Still: [07:08] Now, I would describe it as about 20 ft high and a shrub-like mound. Tom Reber: [07:14] It is. That's where there's a little bit of friendly disagreement, whether it's a large shrub or a small flower. Doug Still: [07:20] Or, tree. [chuckles] Tom Reber: [07:22] We talk about it as a small flowering tree here. But they will get between 20 and 30 ft tall. Similarly, they're a fairly symmetrical canopy, so they'll be similarly 20 to 30 ft in diameter for the actual canopy drip edge. This tree is the oldest specimen we have here, but it's not the oldest in the region or the largest in the region. Doug Still: [07:47] Are they long lived? Tom Reber: [07:49] They are finicky. Sometimes yes, a lot of times, no. This is part of the reason that this tree doesn't exist in the wild anymore today. Doug Still: [08:01] This tree is extinct- Tom Reber: [08:02] This tree is actually- Doug Still: [08:03] - in the wild. Tom Reber: [08:04] -extinct in the wild. And it's very beautiful. Doug Still: [08:08] It reminds me of a plant that's in New England. I'm not sure if you have it here. Called sweet pepperbush. Tom Reber: [08:16] Yes. We do have-- [crosstalk] Doug Still: [08:17] Alnifolia. Tom Reber: [08:18] Clethra alnifolia. Doug Still: [08:20] It has a similar - these upright, delicate twigs with the leaves on the ends of it. Tom Reber: [08:28] Right. And the leaves, while this branches alternately, the leaves are so compressed at the ends of the branches that they almost appear to be whorled. Doug Still: [08:36] Right. Tom Reber: [08:37] And then, the flower buds are held right underneath the leaves. Doug Still: [08:42] I see. Tom Reber: [08:43] Today, they're about a half inch in diameter. They need to grow for another two months before they'll bloom. So, this is a midsummer bloomer here. Doug Still: [08:52] Mm-hmm. Does it bloom all at one time, or are they a flower here, a flower there for a continual show? Tom Reber: [08:59] It has a little bit of both, but I would say it's more the latter, a little bit here and there. It has an initial bloom in July, typically. It puts out a subtle display, but is fairly uniform throughout the canopy. Once those flowers are bloomed out and the petals drop off, it will sporadically bloom through the rest of the season, even into fall color. So, sometimes this has a range of fall color between purple and really vibrant neon red. And you'll get the white of the flower bloom with those colors. Doug Still: [09:35] That sounds beautiful. What's its native habitat? Where does it like to grow? Tom Reber: [09:39] So, it likes similar conditions to so many North American ericaceous plants - rhododendrons, mountain laurels. But it likes moist, well drained, acid rich humus. It hates compaction. It doesn't like hot soil. It doesn't like really frigid soil. Doug Still: [10:00] So, it's not really a good urban tree, I’d say. Tom Reber: [10:02] It's not a great urban tree. It's a tree that many gardeners consider to be their holy grail tree, because it's so difficult to grow. Doug Still: [10:12] Tricky but beautiful, uncommon and unique. The flowers alone are enough to make you ooh and ahh. Five large white petals surround a dollop of bright orange stamens, like the yolk in the middle of an egg fried sunny side up. This particular tree is impressive, but its importance stems from what it represents. It's a living memory of that first Franklin tree that grew here, the savior of its species. The story of its discovery by John and William Bartram was researched in depth by a beloved curator at Bartram's Garden, Joel Fry. His article, “Franklinia alatamaha, a history of that 'very curious shrub’” is seminal to our understanding. I've been doing reading, and there was a curator here who was a John and William Bartram scholar, Joel Fry. He seemed like an amazing scholar, and plantsman and intellectual. Unfortunately, he passed away recently, yes? Tom Reber: [11:15] Yes. Doug Still: [11:16] When did he die? Tom Reber: [11:17] Joel passed away last March of 2023. Joel was our curator, and he was a world-renowned scholar of the Bartram’s. He was an archaeologist by trade and training, actually, and started here at Bartram's as a student in his archaeology program. I like to joke that Joel found a good place and just stayed. But Joel was here for a little over 30 years. And studied Bartram history, he studied the history of this specific land. He worked with historians, horticulturists, researchers, artists region wide and worldwide to spread the joy of horticulture, to spread the legacy of the Bartram’s and their interest in the natural world. Doug Still: [12:10] And he wrote quite a bit about this particular tree- Tom Reber: [12:12] He did. Doug Still: [00:12:13] -which I've been reading. Tom Reber: [12:14] He wrote a number of pieces. But he wrote a white paper in the 1990s about Franklinia. That's what’s considered the reference about the tree. Doug Still: [12:24] So, in many ways, the story of discovering the Franklinia tree was his to tell, right? Tom Reber: [12:31] It was. Doug Still: [12:32] No one told it better than Joel. Tom Reber: [00:12:33] No one told it better than Joel. Doug Still: [12:35] I'm sorry, I didn't have a chance to meet him. Tom Reber: [12:37] He was a wonderful man. We were those of us who knew him and worked with him incredibly lucky to know him. Doug Still: [12:43] We've got Joel's shoulders to stand on and also, biographers Edmund and Dorothy Smith Berkeley, who wrote the Life and Travels of John Bartram: From Lake Ontario to the River St.John. To me, John's transition from farmer to botanist is what makes this story fun. He had an innate obsession with the natural world and how it works, and he questioned everything. Could you tell us who John Bartram was? Tom Reber: [13:09] Sure. Absolutely. So, John Bartram was North American by birth, English by descent and came from a Quaker family. The Quakers are, what we call, the Religious Society of Friends. Founded in the 17th century in England as a reaction against the Anglican Church. John was born into the faith, and was a Quaker by practice through the entirety of his life. He wasn't a Quaker by membership for the entirety of his life. He was a member of Darby Meeting, that's not too far from here, for a good portion of his life into early to mid-adulthood. And then, as he was dealing with his own beliefs about spirituality and religion, disagreed with Quakers and actually chiseled his beliefs into the stone of his house here. Doug Still: [14:01] I see that above the- Tom Reber: [14:03] Yes. Doug Still: [14:03] -first floor window. What does it say? Tom Reber: [14:05] The inscription in 1770 that reads, “It is God alone, Almighty Lord, the Holy One By Me Adored, John Bartram.” This is John stating to the world that he believes in the divinity of God, but he believes that Jesus is a human and not necessarily the Son of God. And the Quakers did not like that. Doug Still: [14:24] I imagine not. Tom Reber: [14:25] No. So, they kicked him out. Doug Still: [14:26] And he was a farmer. Tom Reber: [14:27] And he was a farmer. So, we think of John today as a botanist. He was by training and by his own education. But he was never formally trained in horticulture or botany. He was a farmer by training. He grew up a farmer and bought this land to be a farm originally. Doug Still: [14:46] John married his wife, Mary, in 1723, and they had two sons. Unfortunately, Mary passed away in 1727, possibly in childbirth. One of their sons died at a young age as well. John was married again in 1729 to a woman named Ann Mendenhall, and they eventually had nine children together, all of them working the farm. So, one thing that he's not, that I've learned through my reading, is that he's not a British nobleman. Tom Reber: [15:13] That is correct. He's not a British nobleman. I wouldn't say that he's maybe peasantry, but he's in the middle class that's starting to grow in this time worldwide. Doug Still: [15:24] Right. Tom Reber: [15:26] Because Quakers are a small, very tightly knit religious sect, still at this point, the grapevine is very short. So, John, being interested in the natural world, starts to study nature, study plants, go out and bring plants back to his farm from the wild. And as he does this, he realizes that he doesn't know a lot. He starts researching, he starts reading things, he starts talking to people. Doug Still: [15:55] A successful farm needed supplies and helpful contacts. So, John often ventured into nearby Philadelphia for necessities. There, he befriended a merchant and fellow Quaker named Joseph Brentnall, originally from Derbyshire, England. Brentnall had taken up making leaf impressions with printer's ink on absorbent paper. John invited him out to the farm in 1733 to help him collect leaves for his hobby, and began enthusiastically bringing Brentnall varied new specimens on his trips into town. According to the Berkeley’s, these prints were delicate and beautiful. They were soon passed around to Brentnall’s friends back in England who greatly admired them and appreciated the images of foreign species they were seeing for the first time. One of these colleagues was a regular correspondent of Brentnall’s named Peter Collinson, a London merchant, and amateur gardener and plant collector. To him, what he was seeing looked like pure gold. Suddenly Collins' eyes focused on the colonial farmer, John Bartram. It's time for a short break. But when we return, we'll find out how Collinson opened the doors for John and changed his life forever. You're listening to the story of Bartram's Franklin tree. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. [theme music] [harpsichord music] What did the Brits care about what was in the forests of Pennsylvania? It's hard to imagine now. But among a certain set at the time, North American plants were part of the quest for the new and unusual. Britain's passion for landscape gardening was elevated to an art form in the 18th century among the nobility and gentry, that is, people who owned land and could afford to have such a hobby. It was viewed as a pursuit of the educated and sophisticated. Garden design and horticulture reached into the middle classes as well, which is where we can place Peter Collinson. His interest in all things botanical was sincere and scientifically rigorous. He also saw that his knowledge and trade networks as a merchant opened a doorway to the British elite. Heads were turned to the colonies. And as a mover and shaker and avid correspondent, Collinson had a lot of friends there. But frustratingly, friends couldn't be relied on to send him specimens, despite his repeated requests. He needed to find a collector in the colonies who shared his obsession and love of the natural world, who was committed and who had attention to detail, someone with the time and fearlessness to venture into the wilderness. Sometime in 1733, Collinson Philadelphia contacts introduced him by letter to John Bartram. Tom Reber: [18:53] People here knew that John was going out into the wilds exploring and bringing plants back, studying them, seeking knowledge, and knowing that Peter Collinson was a merchant in England and he was looking for his niche to make his money. And so, John is connected with Peter Collinson, and then becomes the purveyor of plant and animal to the nobility of basically the entirety of Europe. While John and Peter never actually meet physically, they correspond. Doug Still: [19:25] Amazing. Tom Reber: [19:26] And they write tons and actually, most, a lot of what we have today is Peter Collinson and John's correspondence that tells us about the man today. Doug Still: [19:34] Now, this went on for decades, right? Tom Reber: [19:35] It went on for decades. They might as well have been next door neighbors and best friends, because at times, they actually get very testy with each other in their [Doug laughs] writings. It's very funny to read some of them today. This is what allows John, what funds John's efforts in plant exploration, because he's one of very few people who's interested and sort of fearless in going out into the wilderness of North America and finding new things. Doug Still: [20:04] The earliest surviving letter was from Bartram to Collinson, written July 17, 1734. Interestingly, it wasn't about plants or trees at all, but about a rattlesnake he dissected, revealing the pattern of teeth and mechanism for ejecting poison. Collinson thought the account was good enough to read to his fellows at the Royal Society of London, the world's foremost scientific organization founded 70 years earlier. It was published, which must have been a thrill for young John Bartram. By then, Bartram was already shipping plants to Collinson. He had first collected seeds and specimens locally, then started making longer, more extensive expeditions up the Schuylkill River and into New Jersey for days at a time. Collinson showed his appreciation frequently, like in this letter, dated January 25th, 1735. Peter Collinson: [20:58] “My good friend, John Bartram, I am very much obliged to thee for thy two choice cargoes of plants which came very safe and in good condition, and are very curious and rare and well worth my acceptance. I'm very sensible of the great pains and many tiresome trips to collect so many rare plants scattered at a distance. I shall not forget it, but in some measure to show my gratitude, though not in proportion to thy trouble, I have sent thee a small token, a calico gown for thy wife and some odd little things that may be of use amongst the children and family.” Doug Still: [21:35] Collinson tried to be clear with his instructions. First, asking for seeds of common plants that were to be numbered in a particular way with common names attached. Before long, he sent Bartram sheets of brown and whited brown paper with which to press herbarium specimens to be included along with the seeds. Soon thereafter, living specimens were to be sent when appropriate. Collinson suggested an ingenious method for preserving live specimens after John described the loss of several during a recent trip. Peter Collinson: [00:22:07] “This accident brings to my mind, a very pretty method, by which plants will keep fresh three or four days on a journey. Take three or four large ox bladders, cut off the neck high, and when a plant is found, take it up with a little earth to the roots, put this into the bladder, then put water in the bladder to cover the roots, then tie up the neck of the bladder, close round the stalk of the plant, leaving the leaves, flowers, etc., without. Large plants won't do so well, but several small plants may be put into a bladder. When tied, hang it to the pommel, or skirts of the saddle or any other convenient way thee may choose.” Doug Still: [22:53] John Bartram's reputation as a studious collector began to grow back in England. The individual specimens he shipped caused fascination and contributed to the field of botany. But for Collinson, that was not nearly enough. He worked with patrons who sought to populate their landscape gardens with the new and exotic from around the world. Collinson was soon asking for seeds from Bartram in bulk, to be grown and sold to major estates. One young nobleman in particular became a major patron of his horticultural services and, by extension, Bartram’s. He was the 22-year-old Robert James, or Baron Petre, who had recently been elected to the Royal Society. He took up residence at Thorndon Hall in Essex, a sizable estate. He desired formal gardens, groupings of new trees, tree lined avenues and reforestation of an area around a large park. Baron Petre wanted trees, lots of them. Collinson convinced him to build an expansive collection with diversity in uncommon species. Therefore, Bartram was retained to send thousands of seeds to be germinated and grown into plantable whips. Trees like black walnut, dogwood, red cedar, red oak, American sycamore and other species. Collinson's client list was growing, and the young Baron was chief among them. Peter Collinson: [24:16] “Kind friend, John Bartram, I am just returned town from paying a visit to a noble lord, my most valuable and intimate friend. One of my proposals I sent thee last year to collect the seeds of your forest trees was for him, as he is a universal lover of plants. I presented him with a share of the seeds thou sent last year, which was very acceptable, as he is a man of noble and generous spirit. He very rationally considered thy pains and thy trouble in collecting them, and desired to make thee some returns and left it to me. If thee can compass to send 30 or 40 sorts of your herbaceous seeds every year, it will be sufficient.” Doug Still: [25:01] Bartram happily obliged. After each outing into the forest, he would return with saddlebags bulging with specimens to be boxed and shipped. Many he planted in his own garden as well for his own interest. It had become an obsession. Tom Reber: [25:15] Because all of the plant material that John is bringing from his travels in North America comes back here to this site and is grown out in what today we might think of as a trials garden arrangement. Linear beds fairly close together with really no aesthetic consideration about that. Plants planted adjacent to each other that really don't necessarily grow together in the wild, may not even be from the same region, and then studied from there. This is part of what lends it to that narrative that we hear today from George Washington and others that know call this a messy garden. Doug Still: [25:55] [chuckles] But it meant time away from the farm. And to continue this work, he asked for an annual stipend from Baron Petre. Collinson was able to negotiate a salary of 10 guineas a year, and a few other noble clients chipped in with their own sums. Bartram's hobby had quickly turned into a side business. Here's another letter from Collinson from 1735. Peter Collinson: [26:18] “Kind friend, John Bartram, I had the pleasure of thine of June 13th, and am pleased the things was acceptable. I have sent the little box of seeds to our noble friend, what he raises, I have always a share of which will produce thee some money here. The water beech or buttonwood is known here as the western plain, and is in great plenty here and makes a noble tree. Thee need not send any for it is raised plentifully by cuttings. But as for the linden or lime tree, for aught I know may be a stranger. So, pray send some seed.” Doug Still: [26:56] As for shipping, onboard thievery and looting was common, as was damage from water, livestock or a host of other reasons. But they had a special solution: ask the captains to stow the boxes under their beds in the captain’s quarters. Peter Collinson: [27:11] “There is two captains, Richmond and Wright, whom I love and esteem and will take care of anything for me. What is in casks or boxes, tell them, I will pay freight for. But little matters, as they are so kind to bring free.” Doug Still: [27:26] And later that year. Peter Collinson: [27:28] “Thee canst not think how well the little case of plants came being put under the captain's bed and saw not the light till I sent for it.” Tom Reber: [27:37] So, John, in connecting with Peter Collinson and working with shipwrights merchants to size his box to transport plants really is the first to crack the code and how to ship live or otherwise life-able plant material worldwide. Doug Still: [27:57] After expeditions to New Jersey in the interior of Pennsylvania, Bartram was urged to travel further afield by his associate armchair explorers in England. Journeys were made to Maryland, Virginia in the western frontier of New York. He traveled alone. And despite detailed instructions from Collinson about employing a servant and using multiple pack animals, he usually just had one horse with large saddlebags. Collinson and Petre gifted him a compass to use. For housing, Collinson paved the way for Bartram by letter with his network of friends and associates in the colonies. He would sometimes apologize ahead of time for Bartram's rugged dress and appearance, but in general, his hosts were greatly interested in meeting him and showing him their own gardens. John was grateful, but would sleep anywhere he could. He asked for harbor from people he met along the way and even slept on open ground. Here's a report he gave to Collinson after an expedition in 1738. John Bartram: [28:58] “I have received thy letters of recommendation to Maryland and Virginia, which I hope may assist me in my journey thither. The next day, I came to a house a good while before night where I intended to lodge. I asked them, “How far to the river?” They said two miles. I turned out my mare at a pasture. I had in mind to go there to look what kind of plants grow that way. But the man of the house not being at home, I had no guide but my pocket compass, thee sent me, which is my constant companion in my distant travels. The way being very uneven and hilly, I steered directly toward the river without either coat, jacket or hat on. It was exceedingly hot, but the way full of trees and shady.” Doug Still: [29:41] John's travels brought him in continuous contact with indigenous peoples throughout the eastern seaboard. Negotiating his safety as a solitary traveler and explaining his purpose to native tribes was an integral part of his planning. It was often risky, and he was rightly viewed with suspicion. While specimen collecting could be considered acting with a light touch, his activity, presence and very being was part of the brutal, unstoppable colonizing force that Europeans brought to North America. It's a history we know all too well. Ancestral lands were taken, hunting grounds overrun, treaties made then violated, people sickened and natural resources removed. Trees were one such resource. Furthermore, plants that were novel in 18th century London had, of course, been known to Native Americans for eons. But the more western science came to know about the botany of North America, the more forests could be plundered for the benefit of unseen powers in Europe without any reciprocity. We shouldn't forget this part of the story. John Bartram's farm in Kingsessing, Philadelphia and much of the surrounding area was the ancestral home of the Lenape people, who inhabited the region for thousands of years. The Quakers and other settlers had displaced them. John had a personal reason to be fearful wherever he went. When a teenager, John's father and stepmother moved to Carolina to start a new settlement with other Quakers leaving John and his brother, William, behind with their grandmother. Vigorously defending their homeland, the local Cherokee of Carolina brutally killed his father and the other white men of the settlement. They abducted his stepmother, who later escaped with her newborn baby to tell the tale. The Berkeley's book, The Life and Travels of John Bartram, shines a light on many of his own interactions with indigenous peoples in fascinating detail drawn from his writings. For an example, an entire chapter is devoted to Bartram's journey to upstate New York to the headquarters of the Five Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy composed of the Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, Oneida and Mohawk tribes. In 1720, the Tuscarora were admitted as the sixth nation. Bartram's trip to Onondaga, their capital, was planned with the help from Conrad Weiser, Pennsylvania's main ambassador to the Iroquois. It was seen as a peace seeking mission, and Bartram could explore the vast forests. He later sent a written account of the six-week trip to Collinson that was so engaging that he had it published in London to great popularity. It included accounts of dinners with important chiefs, a sketch of an Iroquois longhouse and descriptions of their farms. John wrote with appreciation about the food shared with them, bowls of boiled squash, venison, bread and fruit, and all the ways that hospitality was extended to them. He learned about the trees sacred to the Iroquois and how they were used, sugar maple, hickory, chestnut and oak. A PDF copy of the original published book of 1751 can be found online via the Biodiversity Heritage Library. I recommend it as a fascinating view into the past. Through the 1740s, 1750s, and 1760s, John Bartram's reputation continued to grow, and he made substantial contributions to the emerging fields of botany and plant taxonomy. His discoveries were championed by the Royal Society in London and its fellows, and he was eventually recognized as a leading authority on natural history in the American colonies. Tom Reber: [33:20] In horticulture, the Bartram’s are some of THE first and best known North American botanists. John is spoken about in the same realms as Peter Kelm, André Michaux, Carl Linnaeus actually. Doug Still: [33:41] Carl Linnaeus, a Swedish biologist and physician, is often known as the father of modern taxonomy. His binomial system of nomenclature for species is still used today. Bartram and Linnaeus knew and respected each other. And the humble Quaker from Pennsylvania often mixed it up with this towering figure of botanical history. Tom Reber: [34:02] John has his own botanical nomenclature and scientific nomenclature that disagrees with Linnaean nomenclature. Doug Still: [34:09] Really? Tom Reber: [34:10] Yes. Doug Still: [34:10] I knew that Linnaeus was aware of John Bartram's activities, and what he was looking for. Tom Reber: [34:14] They definitely were. They disagreed on nomenclature and stuff, but they also corresponded about nomenclature. Doug Still: [34:21] Bartram became a fixture of intellectual life at his home base of Philadelphia as well. This is where he met another one of his champions in the 1730s, Benjamin Franklin. Although Bartram was six years his senior, the youthful but worldly Franklin rose to fame and wealth as a newspaper editor and printer, publishing the Pennsylvania Gazette at the age of 23. He followed with Poor Richard's Almanack shortly after. The two shared a fundamental interest in the natural world and remained close friends throughout their lives. Tom Reber: [34:54] So, Ben Franklin was one of John Bartram's patrons. Doug Still: [34:58] Amazing. Tom Reber: [34:59] Incredible. One of the things that John Bartram is seeking in payment for plant exploration is knowledge. And Ben Franklin unlocks knowledge for him. Doug Still: [35:11] Bartram was lucky enough to be a subscriber to the library company of Philadelphia, the first lending library of the Americas founded by Franklin. Then, in 1743, Franklin founded the American Philosophical Society, a scholarly organization promoting knowledge of the sciences and humanities. It was modeled after the Royal Society of London, for which Bartram had already published. Franklin recruited Bartram as a founding member. Both men were essentially self-taught. So, maybe Franklin was drawn to Bartram, because he saw a bit of himself. Throughout their lives, he enjoyed following John's work as a boots on the ground naturalist. He often encouraged Bartram to write a natural history of the Americas, but writing skills weren't his forte and he never completed it. Franklin was fascinated by botany. An example of their lifelong correspondence comes with this amazing letter from Paris of May, 1777, the last year of Bartram's life. It's amazing to me at least, because when Franklin wrote this letter, he was setting the stage for The Treaty of Alliance with France, which was crucial to the success of the newly formed United States during the Revolutionary War. As a diplomat, Franklin had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet, he found time to write to John Bartram with some nuts and bolts instructions about seeds. Benjamin Franklin: [36:35] “My dear old friend, the communication between Britain and North America being cut off. The French botanists cannot in that channel be supplied, as formerly, with American seeds, etc. If you or one of your sons incline to continue that business, you may, I believe, send the same number of boxes here for what it wants in that way. Enclosed is a list of sorts wished for here. If you consign them to me, I will take care of the sale and returns for you. There will be no difficulty in importation, as the matter is countenanced by the ministry for whom I received the list. My love to Mrs. Bartram and your children. I am ever my dear friend. Yours most affectionately, B. Franklin.” Doug Still: [37:21] It's no wonder then that the special new tree species the Bartram’s found in Georgia was named after Benjamin Franklin, the Franklinia. And yes, that's Bartram's, plural, which brings us to John's third son, William, a key member of the story of the Franklin tree. How'd he get a part in this? Well, John found pleasure in that at least one of his children showed interest in his botanical hobby, and that was young Billy, as he was called. Credit, Edmund and Dorothy Smith Berkeley for much of this research on young William Bartram. In one sense, John enjoyed traveling alone on collecting expeditions, but part of him wanted to share his discoveries and love of nature out in the field, and also carry some of the burden. Wrote John, “I am often exposed to solitary and difficult traveling beyond our inhabitants, and often under dangerous circumstances, in passing over rivers, climbing over mountain and precipices amongst the rattlesnakes, and often obliged to follow the track or path of wild beasts for my guide through these desolate and gloomy thickets.” His children begrudgingly followed along when forced, but it was Billy who found the spark after a few collecting trips. At the very least, it sure beat farm work. John began calling him, his little botanist. At age 14, he accompanied him on a rigorous trip to the Catskills, well documented in John's journal. During the journey, each was weakened by fever at different times, the other picking up the slack. After the arduous trip, a shipment of four seed boxes was sent to the Prince of Wales, and William Bartram's name was included on the published list of available product. Billy's enthusiasm began to grow. He started sketching the specimens they found together. And the sketches soon developed into technically proficient botanical drawings. Impressed, John sent some of them to Collinson, who remarked on his talent. Billy’s intellect convinced the Bartram’s to send them to the academy in Philadelphia as a young teenager, an institution that eventually became the University of Pennsylvania. Tom Reber: [39:35] So, John and William were an interesting pair here. From my familiarity with some of each of their writings and just the history, they were very similar. William, oftentimes at younger ages, was seen as that prodigal son by John. William was the creative. William was an artist. He was not a farmer. He also was not a botanist by training, initially, at least. He finds this. John gets very frustrated with William, as William is flailing around trying to find his path and direction and place in the world. But through all of this, William is always drawing and always painting. Actually, some of the earliest drawings of the map of the garden and even botanical illustrations do come from William for this place. Doug Still: [40:32] Billy wanted to draw, and John became concerned about his son settling on a proper career. Botany and drawing didn't seem viable, and hard labor definitely wasn't going to cut it with this somewhat delicate boy. They thought maybe a mercantile career was the answer. Meanwhile, Billy began drawing turtles. They were so exquisite that Collinson gave them to the editor of Gentleman's Magazine to be engraved for the publication. William's drawings even caught the attention of George Ehret, England's renowned botanical illustrator. His work was not only beautiful, but meticulously accurate, offering scientific value. Regarding his career, however, even Ben Franklin weighed in with some advice, suggesting an apprenticeship with an engraver in Philadelphia. But by the time he was 18, it was determined that he should move to North Carolina to work under the wing of his uncle, William, who was a merchant operating a trading post. Billy slogged away there for seven years and learned the trade. He sometimes sent his father specimens upon request, but more frequently, he gave his parents fits for falling out of contact. He was an unmotivated correspondent. John didn't know it then, but he need not have worried. William Bartram was to find lasting fame as America's first native born natural history artist, and a writer and explorer of the southeast landscape. His fortunes changed in 1765 when he received a letter from his father recruiting him on a trip into the forests of Georgia in northern Florida. After a short break, we'll tag along on the trip that brought us Franklinia alatamaha, the Franklin tree. This is This Old Tree. [theme music] [harpsichord music] Big news. John Bartram had been awarded the title of his Majesty's Botanist for North America. This appears to be a supplement to the title of “His Majesty's Botanist” stationed in Britain, a position that still exists today in an honorary capacity. At the time, France had its own King's Botanist, André Michaux, but that is another story. John was thrilled by the honor, and he was to receive a salary of £50 per year. That was a relatively paltry sum that displeased Bartram, which he complained about loudly to Collinson. Anyway, John sent a letter to his son, Billy, to share the news and to let him know he was coming south on assignment to Florida, and he needed his son's help. John Bartram: [43:22] “Dear son, William, soon after cousin Smith set off for Cape Fear, I received a particular account that our King had appointed me his Chief Botanist, and I am ordered to go directly to Florida. I have taken passage in a vessel bound to Augustine and thence to Pensacola with my good friend, General Bouquet, for whose sake I go sooner than I intended. Perhaps, the vessel may touch at Charlestown. It is some question whether I shall not stay about Augustine or Georgia this summer, and perhaps winter in the Peninsula or East Florida, but I can't tell which till I speak to Governor Grant and the superintendent of Indian Affairs, whom I must consult. I am daily writing for further orders and recommendations from court. But our friend, Peter, ordered me to take my son or a servant with me. As thee wrote to me last winter and seemed so desirous to go there, now thee hath a fair opportunity. So, pray. Let me know as soon as possible. Our vessel is to sail in about two or three weeks.” Doug Still: [44:16] Florida had recently opened up to British colonists. The Treaty of Paris of 1763 ended the Seven Year’s War, also known as the French and Indian War. As a result, Great Britain received Spanish Florida. It was open for exploration as much as indigenous tribes allowed, and the area was of great interest to science and plant collectors. The newly appointed King's Botanist was urged to go there. He received detailed instructions from Collinson. He was to make observations on the soil and topography, and to collect specimens of ore, plants, insects, shells and fossils to be shipped from Pensacola, St. Augustine and Charlestown. He was to sail first to Charlestown and procure horses there. Leaving July 1st, 1765, the sea voyage took six days from Philadelphia to Charlestown. Along the way, Bartram became very sick and dizzy, not used to being at sea. Upon arrival, Bartram lodged for several days at the home of Dr. Alexander Garden, with whom Bartram had corresponded for many years. Billy had agreed to go. And his job was to provide drawings of their finds. So, John went a few hundred miles north to the town of Ashwood to visit his brother, William, and retrieve his son. They returned to Charlestown two weeks later, of course collecting plants and making observations about soils along the way. On the last day of August, John and Billy set off for Savannah. The departure of His Majesty's Botanist captured the public's interest in an article printed in the South Carolina Gazette. On the first night of their journey, they reached Willtown, South Carolina, but were refused lodging by the tight knit community there. They were prejudiced against Quakers. One owner reluctantly agreed to let them sleep on the floor of a rat-infested corn crib behind his house. They reached Savannah on September 4th, passing large estates along the way. John wrote to his wife, Ann. John Bartram: [46:16] “My dear spouse, this day, we arrived at Savannah town in Georgia by 10 o’clock. This was reckoned a very hot day here, with thunder and showers. Thermometer 86. They have had here, as well as at Charlestown, the hottest summer and wettest August that hath been for many years. Many great bridges is broken down, and we were forced to swim our horses over. But God Almighty be praised, we got safe into Georgia. Strange it is that in all this dreadful season for thunder and prodigious rain, we have not had occasion to put a greatcoat on in both the Carolinas, nor rested one day on account of rain. But we can't expect to be favored for so long. However, God's will be done. We are now hardy and has a good stomach. The people say that if we can weather this month, we need not fear. We have been pestered these two mornings and evenings with very large mosquitoes, but their bite is not near so venomous as the small sort at Charlestown.” Doug Still: [47:11] The two then made a long trip up to Augusta, Georgia to visit a colleague, and arrived back in Savannah on September 20th through heavy rains. Bedraggled, they dined with Governor James Wright, the last Royal Governor of Georgia. They waited for the floodwaters to go down and the ground to dry. And after all this, they finally left for Florida on September 30th. They headed south and were hosted for a night in Riceboro. They wrote about a magnificent stand of longleaf pine, one of which they measured 90 ft to the first limb and another, 28 ft to the top. In addition to pine barrens, they walked through groups of palmettos, dwarf oaks, and another tree described as “resembling a catalpa, with pods as round as an acorn.” One prized tree, front and center within John Bartram's radar, was the loblolly-bay Gordonia lasianthus. It is a shrubby evergreen tree with a camellia-like flower, not unlike the Franklin Tree. Bartram had previously encountered it in North Carolina and had begun growing it back in his home garden. They would have encountered it throughout the coastal plain they were currently passing through. They hoped to reach Fort Barrington before dark, a small outpost situated on the Altamaha River. Instead, they missed a turning point and spent the night four miles below the fort. However, this was the day that John and William Bartram encountered something new. They found two “very curious shrubs,” as written in John's journal. One is known today as the fevertree, Pinckneya pubens. The other was a small tree never seen before by European eyes. It was short statured with ovate leaves like the loblolly bay, but it was different. Its leaves were clustered at the ends of long, delicately twisting branches which likely were beginning to turn a gorgeous magenta red, as it was early fall. There wouldn’t have been any visible flowers this late in the season. Maybe they saw the notable dehiscent seed capsule splitting into four parts. What we do know is that they didn't take any seeds or collect a specimen. Perhaps, they were exhausted after getting lost all day in difficult swampland. All they did was note the two “very curious shrubs.” This was the tree that would eventually be known as Franklinia alatamaha, the Franklin tree. So, that's it? No raves or effusive language? Well, yes, for this trip anyway, but we'll get back to that. They eventually made their way to Florida, making it as far as the St. John River flowing into modern day Jacksonville, and then St. Augustine. The mission was very fruitful and John's journals were edited by Collinson and became well regarded. The King's Botanist had made his first and last extensive expedition. John returned to Philadelphia by boat from St. Augustine the following March. He had been away from home for 10 months. Somewhat sick and beaten down, John was urged to end his collecting outings by Collinson and others. Here's Ben Franklin. Ben Franklin: [50:31] “My dear old friend, I hope your health continues as mine does hitherto, but I wish you would now decline your long and dangerous peregrinations in search of your plants, and remain safe and quiet at home, employing your leisure hours and work that is much wanted and which no one besides is so capable performing.” Doug Still: [50:52] Billy decided to stay on in Florida to begin a plantation, which was a miserable failure. But a few years later, he resumed his botanical and scientific explorations of Georgia and Florida, picking up where his father left off with service to wealthy British patrons. The baton had been passed, and Billy never forgot that beautiful tree near the Alatamaha. He revisited the tree several times, once in 1773, and again in 1776. It is possible he made more visits. It is uncertain when exactly he took seeds or a live specimen to Kingsessing to be planted in Bartram's garden. William Bartram often confused his dates. He sometimes conflated his trips when he wrote about them in his famous 1791 work, travels through North and South Carolina, Georgia, and East and West Florida. But here's his description of a return trip to find that elegant little tree. William Bartram: [51:49] “After my return from the Creek Nation, I employed myself during the spring and forepart of summer in revisiting the several districts in Georgia and the east borders of Florida, where I had noted the most curious subjects, collecting them together and shipping them off to England. I had the opportunity of observing the new flowering shrub resembling the Gordonia in perfect bloom, as well as bearing ripe fruit. It is a flowering tree of the first order for beauty and fragrance of blossoms. The tree grows 15 ft or 20 ft high, branching alternately. The leaves are oblong, broadest towards their extremities and terminate with an acute point, which is generally a little reflexed. The flowers are very large, expand themselves perfectly, are of a snow-white color and ornamented with a crown or tassel of gold colored refulgent stamina in their center. This very curious tree was first taken notice of about 10 or 12 years ago at this place, when I attended my father, John Bartram, on a botanical excursion. But it being late in the autumn, we could form no opinion to what class or tribe it belonged. We never saw it grow in any other place, nor have I ever since seen it growing wild. In all my travels. At this place, there are two or three acres of ground where it grows plentifully.” Doug Still: [53:16] William was collecting seeds and shipping them to Dr. John Fothergill, his father's former patron, and now his own. British gardening records at the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew suggest Franklinia was introduced to cultivation in 1774, but the dates are uncertain. After growing the tree in Bartram's Garden, William made the first extraordinary botanical drawing of a branch of the tree in full flower, which is now housed in the Natural History Museum in London. In 1785, it was determined by botanists in Europe that, indeed, this was a new species. William Bartram made sure to name it after their close friend and lifelong patron, Benjamin Franklin. John Bartram passed away in 1777, but he would have been very pleased. A full, scholarly and entertaining account of how the trees botanical recognition unfolded between both continents can be found in Joel Fry's seminal publications on the subject. When future visits were made by William and others to the lowlands near the Alatamaha River in the early 18th century, the Franklinia was nowhere to be found. It was gone. Since this is the only place in the world where it was ever found, it was that horrible E word - extinct - in the wild. So, what happened? Tom Reber: [54:36] Yes. So, this is one of the mysteries. A few different conspiracy theories crop up in the next 125, 150 years or so. Doug Still: [54:46] Like, what would be one conspiracy theory? Tom Reber: [54:48] So, one of them that I hear is that diseases brought in with cotton plants for the plantations in the southern United States may have decimated the native populations of Franklinia. I don't believe that, actually, because we don't see any transmission of diseases specific to cotton to Franklinia today. There is another theory that just land clearing, eventually - they cut through all of the stands that were out in the wild. I also don't believe that, because to do that, you would have to clear cut so much. While the trees of North America were virtually entirely clear cut in the 19th century, that wasn't happening in the same way in the 1700s and 18th century. Doug Still: [55:33] Right. Tom Reber: [55:35] The thing that I think is more plausible here, is that forest thinning with clearing land for plantations ended up putting Franklinia stands into a much higher temperature root zone, and that there was much more traffic going through those areas and these plants absolutely despise compaction. Doug Still: [55:58] It's very sensitive. Tom Reber: [56:00] It's incredibly sensitive. They're very shallow rooted. Doug Still: [56:03] So, without the Bartram’s, no Franklinia would exist today. Tom Reber: [56:07] So, because it's never rediscovered in the wild, anything that's in cultivation came from the nursery it was cultivated at. This is the nursery. Bartram's Garden is the nursery where Franklinia was cultivated and distributed from. But every Franklinia that exists today can trace its lineage back to this site because of that. Doug Still: [56:27] I just wonder if there's anyone out there dreaming that there might still be one out there, or some out there. Tom Reber: [56:33] There definitely are people who dream and hope that one day, they may find Franklinia in the wild again. Doug Still: [56:40] The garden has really made an effort to extend out into the neighboring community. Can you tell me about that? Tom Reber: [56:46] It has. So, in the modern history of Bartram's Garden as an organization, much of the John Bartram Association focus has been on the Bartram history, specifically John, a little bit more William, but not even so much Ann. And in the last, I'd say, 12 years or so with our current director, Maitreyi Roy, we've made significant efforts to reverse that because the effect of that over decades has been that this has really been treated as a museum, and an insular place, and as a place that people will seek out from outside of our neighborhood. We've wanted to change that around here because of the iniquities and injustices that are at our doorstep, and are our neighborhood and our neighbors. Doug Still: [57:38] It might be the only chance to see real green in the neighborhood. Tom Reber: [57:42] Definitely. Especially with, as were talking before, less than 1% canopy tree coverage here. We're the only green space park asset for Fairmount Park in southwest Philly. There are other rec centers in southwest Philly, but you have to go to west Philly or south Philly or down to the airport to the John Heinz Wildlife Refuge in order to get this type of green space. So, we are the backyard for our immediate neighbors. Doug Still: [58:11] So important. Tom Reber: [58:12] Which is vitally important. We prize not just being that sanctuary and open space to come visit and get away from the daily grind and the day to day, but also to offer programming and education, and do it in such a way that it's free and open for all. Or, if it's not free, that there is absolutely affordability to it, where access is available to anybody who's seeking it and wants to be here. Doug Still: [58:42] Are there John and William Bartram’s societies or research groups? What is the legacy of John and William Bartram? Tom Reber: [58:52] So, the quick answer on groups, is that, yes, there are a number of John and William Bartram groups, notably down in the southeastern United States. There is the John Bartram or the William Bartram trail. There's a William Bartram trail conference every year that is about plant exploration and particularly, North American plant material. There are other researchers, really, worldwide who focus specifically on John or William Bartram. Doug Still: [59:23] When you're working in this historic garden and your thoughts go to the Bartram’s, what do you think about? Tom Reber: [59:29] Oh, that's a good question. I think about the joy of the natural world, the joy of plants. But it's not just plants, it's flora and fauna. But I think about this interest in exploring the unknown and discovering things that are new to you, reframing your outlook on the world, and how nature can help us see beyond our own blinders. That's really, I think, what I end up getting to with both John and William here. Doug Still: [01:00:07] In a way that's come full circle in what the garden's doing now. Tom Reber: [01:00:10] It very much has, because that narrative is absolutely core to our-- really, I will call it the social justice aspect of our organization. Doug Still: [01:00:22] Why is the Franklinia tree important now? What does it inspire in people? Tom Reber: [01:00:28] It is a really good story. It's a native extinct tree. It's a tree that doesn't want to grow but can be grown. It blooms at an odd time of year. It's a horticulturist's tree. It's a challenge. Doug Still: [01:00:47] Right. Tom Reber: [01:00:47] That's what Franklinia offers to people. So, you get this tree with a really interesting story that's beautiful, but that also has a name and lineage that is easy to tie to the history of the United States itself too. Doug Still: [01:01:04] Tom, thanks so much for spending time with me in the garden, and showing me Bartram's world and your world. Tom Reber: [01:01:11] It's been wonderful to sit here in front of the tree and talk about all of this today, Doug. Doug Still: [01:01:16] Thanks. You're the best. Tom Reber: [01:01:17] Likewise. Doug Still: [01:01:18] The Franklin tree at Bartram's garden is rare and lovely. Some would even say, it's an attention getter. But it's the backstory that really makes it special, and its connection to the lives of the original owners of the historic property where it stands. It satisfies that botanist fantasy I have in me, if only vicariously, through the Bartram’s. It's a symbol that urges us to keep being curious and to keep learning about things, not only far away, but right before our eyes. [harpsichord music] Thank you, tree lovers, for joining me to find the path that led to the Franklin tree. A warm thanks to Tom Reber for hosting me at Bartram's Garden and telling the story. I'd also like to thank my talented readers for bringing the characters' voices to life: Nigel Holmes, Mike Savard, Mike Sweney and Josh Abrams. The delightful 18th century harpsichord music was played by Miyuki Tsurutani. I had a ball recording it with you. The show's theme music is by Dee Lee. I'll post pictures of the Franklin Tree in Bartram's Garden on Facebook and Instagram. The show website is thisoldtree.show, where you can find more information in the show transcript. I'm Doug Still, and you've been listening to This Old Tree. Until next time. [Transcript provided by SpeechDocs Podcast Transcription] This Old Tree with Doug Still
The Tree That Owns Itself - Transcript Season 2, Episode 6 April 28, 2024 Doug Still: [00:01] You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still. Tucked away on a charming residential street in Athens, Georgia, at the top of a hill, just a block or two away from the University of Georgia campus, stands a stately white oak tree. It's a street tree, but it's not in the usual place between the curb and the sidewalk. It has its own circular planting bed that juts out into the narrow street, surrounded by eight or nine granite posts connected with a chain. If you didn't know its history, you might just give it an extra glance as you drove by, as it's one of many old trees in a very leafy neighborhood, but scores of tourists visit it every year. The tree is literally a roadside attraction. On the “Visit Athens” website it's included as one of the 10 things to see upon your first visit to the city, listed right after the Georgia Museum of Art and before the iconic UGA Arch. Why? One of the tree's immediate neighbors, Pat McAlexander explains. Pat McAlexander: [01:12] Well, I suppose it's one of their sites that they put in all the publicity, along with the famous houses, old houses and government buildings. People seem to really like it. A lot of cities have old houses, but how many have a tree that owns itself? Doug Still: [01:29] That's right. This is The Tree That Owns Itself. What and how you might ask? Well, in this episode, we'll find out all about the tree and its legend from two people who know: Athens-Clarke County Community Forestry Coordinator, Mateo Fennell, as well as longtime neighbor, Pat McAlexander, who we've just met. I'll also interview James Komen, a consulting arborist and expert in tree law and related ownership issues. Because you have to wonder, can a tree own itself? Who owns a tree and what does that even mean? And ultimately, we'll get at what it is about this tree's independent ownership status that has captured the attention of so many people for more than a hundred years - and their hearts too. Coming up, the tree that owns itself. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. [This Old Tree theme] Doug Still: [02:43] You may have heard about The Tree That Owns Itself before because it's one of those things that occasionally goes viral online, and it's been written about a lot, news sites, travel blogs, public radio. The tree needs a PR agent. It was even once featured on Ripley's Believe It or Not. It somehow titillates people. But I thought I'd blow past Wikipedia and the Google searches and go directly to the person who knows the most about the tree and is also the person who cares for it. Meet Mateo Fennell. Mateo Fennell: [03:15] I am the community Forestry Coordinator for Athens-Clarke County. I've been here a little less than a year, but my position is essentially a liaison for all departments in the government of Athens-Clarke County for all things tree related. So, I make a lot of decisions about trees, or at least county owned trees. Doug Still: [03:37] So, regarding The Tree That Owns Itself , you've only come to it recently, then, but you're in charge of it? Mateo Fennell: [03:43] Yeah. It's considered within the county right of way, so it is under my purview. We take care of it as if it is a county tree, but we do spend a considerable amount more on that tree than any other right of way tree. Doug Still: [04:04] Yeah. You've been doing a lot of original research on that tree and looking at primary documents. What is the famous legend? Mateo Fennell: [04:13] The legend, as it was recounted to me when I came to UGA my freshman year, was that - I actually lived about 2,000ft away from the tree my freshman year at Creswell. So, I was able to walk down to the tree from my dorm room. I did that in the first week of going to school there, because I had always heard about it and I said, “Well, I've got to pay my respects.” I'm a tree lover and went there really quickly. But the story, as it was given to me, as it's given to everyone, is that William Jackson loved the tree. He grew up with this tree. When he was getting older, he decided that he couldn't bear the thought of it being torn down or destroyed in the future. So, he deeded the tree to itself and all the land 8ft around it. And that's the story that we all go by. Doug Still: [05:06] A little pause here. Jackson created and granted a deed for the tree with the tree as the grantee! This took place in 1832, when he sold his house. In fact, there is a stone tablet under the tree that quotes from the supposed deed. It says, “For and in consideration of the great love I bear this tree and the great desire I have for its protection for all time, I convey entire possession of itself and all land within eight feet of the tree on all sides,” William H Jackson. According to Mateo, he came from an influential and well-known family at the time. Mateo Fennell: [05:46] Very well known. Yeah, the Jackson family, when I've gone back to look at deeds, the Jackson name is just all over Athens-Clarke County. But his father was a soldier, a patriot in the Revolutionary War. His father ended up becoming the Governor of Georgia, I believe. Jackson's uncle was faculty at UGA. He and his brother were in the first graduating class of the University of Georgia. That would have been in 1804. And then Jackson himself was on the Board of Trustees for the University of Georgia for almost 40 years. Doug Still: [06:30] I asked Mateo how we know about the story, about the tree's own ownership. When was the story first published? Mateo Fennell: [06:37] It would have been in 1890. Doug Still: [06:40] Much later. Mateo Fennell: [06:41] Yeah. Much, much later. So, 1890 is the first time we have a written record of it of someone describing it. There's a great line in it, actually. It says, “There are only a few in the city who know it, as it was done so long ago as to pass out of the recollection of nearly all.” Doug Still: [07:03] So, there was some oral tradition, according to that article. Mateo Fennell: [07:07] Yeah. Doug Still: [07:08] He read a bit from the piece printed on the front page of the Athens Weekly Banner on August 12th, 1890. Mateo Fennell: [07:15] “This majestic oak cannot be touched against its will, but the trouble is to ascertain what its will may be. The facts, as told us, are these. Way back in the first part of this century, the land containing the tree and that taking in good part of the vicinity, was owned by Col. William H. Jackson. Col. Jackson had watched the tree grow from his childhood and grew to love it almost as he would a human. Its luxuriant foliage and sturdy limbs had often protected him from the heavy rains, and out of its highest branches lie had many a time gotten the eggs of the feathered songsters. He watched its growth, and when, on reaching a ripe old age, he saw the tree standing in its magnificent proportions. He was pained to think that after his death, it would fall into the hands of those who might destroy it.” Doug Still: [08:10] Very artfully written. Mateo Fennell: [08:13] Yeah, it's beautiful. I'll read a little bit more. The original lines are great. So, “The tree in question is the magnificent oak in front of the residence of Major Stanley. It seems to stand straighter and hold its head more highly and proudly, as if it knew that it ranked above the common trees of the world, which are the slaves of humans and can be cut down and burned at the will of their owners.” Doug Still: [08:43] Wow. I'm not sure I like that quote. It's a little tough. Mateo Fennell: [08:47] It's a weird one. Doug Still: [08:48] The irony wasn't lost on us that, if true, the story took place during a time, obviously, when many people couldn't own themselves during the era of slavery. In my research, I found this painful reminder was brought up by a local historian quoted in his story on Georgia public broadcasting. But the more we got into it, Mateo described the cracks in the overall story. Did he grow up next to the tree? Mateo Fennell: [09:16] No. He would have been born in Savannah, and then he came to UGA or came to Athens probably 1800, and then was in school until 1804. And then after they graduated, he left. He did come back to Athens. Let's see-- So, yeah, Jackson joined the Board of Trustees in early 1820s, and he would have moved to Athens probably around 1828. Doug Still: [09:47] Got it. So, he was an adult when he was living or owned the tree. Mateo Fennell: [09:53] Correct. Yeah, he would have been in his 20s, 30s. Or, his home was sold to Malthus Ward in 1832. And at that point, Jackson moved to East Athens, where he wanted to be a planter, and he got somewhere over 600 acres in East Athens. Doug Still: [10:12] So, he was a farmer. Mateo Fennell: [10:14] Yeah, probably not that good of one. He ended up losing his land in the early 1840s. The bank repossessed it. And at that time, it's safe to assume that he would have moved to be with his son in Macon, Georgia. He wasn't found in any of the census data in Athens after that date. Doug Still: [10:39] Mateo mentioned the new owner of the property on Dearing Street in Athens, one Malthus Ward. So, William H. Jackson sold the property to Ward in 1832, right? Mateo Fennell: [10:52] Not technically. He sold the home. He and his father-in-law built the home that Malthus Ward lived in. So, 126 Dearing Street was the home that Jackson was living in with his wife, Mildred, and her father, Mr. Cobb. They built that home. There must have been some agreement with the University of Georgia, because the land was never purchased by Jackson. It was only the house, because when Ward buys the property, he buys it from the University of Georgia. In that deed, it said that he gives $1,200 to Jackson for the building. This whole area was part of what was called The Millage…oh, gosh, The Millage Endowment. It was a large tract of land that was given to the University of Georgia, and then they were able to sell land over the years to make money. So, these two lots that were sold to Malthus Ward were still owned by the University of Georgia. Just the home was owned by Jackson. Doug Still: [12:09] Yikes. Okay. So, Jackson didn't grow up next to the tree that owns itself, didn't own the land. Actually, he lived across the street. The tree is at 125 Dearing Street and he lived at 126 Dearing. Mateo Fennell: [12:23] Yeah, he didn't grow up near the tree. [laughter] He didn't even own the land that the tree was on. Doug Still: [12:28] Right. Has anyone ever seen this deed? Mateo Fennell: [12:31] No. No one's ever seen the deed, because usually deeds weren't kept in the city government. But at the same time, I can find the deed from 1832, when Malthus Ward buys it from UGA. No one's ever found a deed about the tree that owns itself. Doug Still: [12:48] Our attention swung back to that 1890 newspaper article, now with some doubtful eyes. Who wrote that article? Mateo Fennell: [12:57] It's unsigned, but the editor of the paper at the time would be Larry Gantt. That's G-A-N-T-T. He was the editor for quite some time of that paper. At that time, it was called the Athens Weekly Banner. Doug Still: [13:16] Gotcha. So, we don't really know who wrote it. It could be that the editor wrote it? Mateo Fennell: [13:21] It could be. Doug Still: [13:22] Mateo sent me a digital copy of the original newspaper that had this unusual tree story on the front page. Surrounding it were some straight news stories from Washington, D.C. and other places. It also had articles of local interest with breathless accounts of “startling news.” On the front page you can read about how a brave woman, Mrs. Bird, rescues her boy at Tallulah after he fell into a fountain; or, bound and gagged, Miss Nellie O'Brien’s story of an adventure with a burglar; or, an interesting meeting now in progress in Watkinsville, where deep interest was awakened due to two evangelists from California who had made numerous conversions. So, it's not a stretch to say that there may have been a healthy dose of sensationalism to help sell newspapers. Flash forward to 1962, when the story of the tree and its potential sources was thoughtfully investigated by a professor and chair of the history department at UGA, E. M. Coulter. He wrote about it in the Georgia Historical Quarterly, for which he was the editor for nearly 50 years. Mateo Fennell: [14:36] The seminal article, the seminal piece on The Tree That Owns Itself is by a gentleman named Coulter back in the 1960s. He goes through two possibilities. One, it's Jackson, and then the other is that it was Gantt or somebody putting that story in, somebody making that story up. Doug Still: [14:56] Gotcha. You got that from Coulter's article. Mateo Fennell: [14:58] I don't know if he's the earliest to suggest that, but he is probably the biggest name. He has the most bonafides. People believe him, because he was a historian at UGA. Doug Still: [15:11] Back again to Gantt’s 1890 piece. Why would that article have been written about the tree at that time? Any guesses? Mateo Fennell: [15:21] My guess would be that they had talked about opening up Finley Street and Dearing Street to create a road. Doug Still: [15:32] We're going to take a short break. When we return, we explore this other idea. Maybe the story of the grand old white oak owning itself came about, because someone wanted to protect it from that all too common threat to street trees - road construction. You're listening to This Old Tree. [music] Mateo Fennell: [16:14] Coulter believed that it was probably in response to the impending development. Yeah. He says that potentially, it was a story made up or to keep Finley Street from being developed. Doug Still: [16:33] You mentioned some roadmaps from the 1850s that you found. Mateo Fennell: [16:37] Yeah. The earliest map I found was in 1852. And in 1852, they drew the road lines in. All of those lines are straight lines. It's really simple for a surveyor to do those straight lines. There is no distinction or weird cutout to try and save a tree. They're all just straight lines. And that map would have been released when Malthus Ward was there on that property. Doug Still: [17:09] Malthus Ward. Can you tell me about Malthus Ward? Mateo Fennell: [17:12] Oh, wow. Malthus Ward, he's a good story. Malthus Ward grew up in the north. He was a frontier doctor and ended up becoming a professor of natural history for the University of Georgia. Actually, let me start somewhere else. Doug Still: [17:35] Okay. Mateo Fennell: [17:35] So, when I started my position as the community forester, the first few weeks of that, of my position, I decided to go pay my respects to the tree that owns itself, as one does. Doug Still: [17:48] Right. Mateo Fennell: [17:50] So, I was standing there looking at the tree and I turned around. When I turned around, I saw a ginkgo tree that absolutely-- it stupefied me. It was the biggest ginkgo tree I have ever seen, and immediately had to go talk to whoever owned that house. Went and talked to Miss Harris, who lives there in what was Jackson's home and Malthus Ward's home. She told me about Malthus Ward. It was the first time I had ever heard about him and sent me down the rabbit hole, the Ward rabbit hole. When I learned that he planted this ginkgo tree in the mid-1800s, it's actually the third oldest ginkgo tree in North America. Doug Still: [18:41] Wow. Must be impressive. Mateo Fennell: [18:43] Oh, it's gorgeous. Actually, it had a large top come out this last summer after a big windstorm, but it's still standing. Ginkgos do a very good job of retrenching, so we have high hopes for it. But that is what got me started on Ward or interested in Ward. Ward, when he came to UGA, they ended up buying him. Well, he bought eight acres, and four acres would have been north of Dearing Street, and four acres would have been south of Dearing Street. Right in between those two parcels is the tree that owns itself. Doug Still: [19:28] Mm-hmm. Mateo Fennell: [19:29] Later on, UGA bought or gave him a botanical gardens. There is some argument as to where that botanical gardens was. Doug Still: [19:41] Okay. So, was he a plantsman? Mateo Fennell: [19:44] He was a medical doctor. He was a botanist. He taught natural history. So, that would have been geology, chemistry, botany, all of that. So, he was kind of a renaissance man. Doug Still: [19:59] So, he planted that amazing ginkgo tree. Mateo Fennell: [20:02] He did. He also planted cuttings from an elm tree that was standing over George Washington when he took control over the army in 1773. Doug Still: [20:18] Sure. The Washington- Mateo Fennell: [20:20] The Washington Elm. Yeah. Doug Still: [20:21] -Elm. Was in Cambridge. Mateo Fennell: [20:24] Yeah, in Cambridge. Yup. He had cuttings of it. I think it was standing beside the house up until 2012. I can see it on Google Street view. Doug Still: [20:33] Wow. Mateo Fennell: [20:34] But Ward was definitely a purveyor of plants. Like, he had over 2,000 species of plants in the botanical gardens. Doug Still: [20:46] So he was a collector. He planted. He was the one probably that loved that tree. Mateo Fennell: [20:52] He definitely would have loved the tree, standing out in front of his house. It was a stately tree, even when he was alive. He would have, I think, really appreciated that tree just being a tree person himself. Now, UGA ended up selling the botanical gardens. They came on some hard times. Malthus Ward was actually released from his position at the university in 1842. So, he was no longer a professor. That would have been 10 years after he bought the property. Then in 1857, they sold the botanical gardens. In the botanical gardens, when they sold that, they used those proceeds to buy the famous University of Georgia Arches, which is the symbol of the university now. Doug Still: [21:47] So, was Malthus still in town after that, when they started building the roads? What are the latest dates you have for Malthus Ward? Mateo Fennell: [21:56] Malthus Ward died right at the end of the Civil War. So, 1866. So, he had lived there in front of the tree up until he died. And then a few years later, his daughter, Mary Ward, is the executrix of his will, and she sells the property. Doug Still: [22:20] How could we not offer some conjecture? What would Ward have thought of the road design crisscrossing his properties? Mateo Fennell: [22:28] I think he would have seen the road, the proposed road, go in and not have been happy knowing that, obviously, that road is slated to go directly through the tree. Doug Still: [22:41] When did the roads go in? Mateo Fennell: [22:43] That was something that-- Coulter, when he wrote about this in the 1960, he didn't really have a good understanding of. Let's go back. So, he wasn't sure of when it went in. Now we can see that even up until 1890, the road had not been cut in. At the time of the first article talking about The Tree That Owns Itself , we don't think that the road had been cut in at that point. We think that there would have been some contention about it at that time. Doug Still: [23:17] Could someone have influenced Gantt in 1890 to write the article about the tree in order to save it from the impending street construction? Who would it have been? Ward would have been a likely candidate, but he had been dead for 24 years. Mateo has a new theory. What's your hunch? Mateo Fennell: [23:35] When I started reading about it and I read about Dr. Ward, my initial thought stems from a question that was asked in an article a long time ago is, “Why Jackson? Why are people ascribing this to Jackson?” I don't think it was Jackson who grew up under this tree, then loved it and then tried to save it. I think it was Mary Ward. Doug Still: [24:00] Mary Ward? Mateo Fennell: [24:01] Mary Ward, she was born in 1830. She comes down to Athens, Georgia, in 1832. So, she's two years old. Her earliest memories were probably of this tree. Doug Still: [24:13] I see. Mateo Fennell: [24:15] UGA fires or releases Dr. Ward in early 1840s. I don't think he was especially liked. They're selling his botanical gardens in the 1850s. I think Ward may have been bitter. “Here, you've released me. You're not going to take me back. You're going to sell my botanical gardens, which I've put a lot of my effort into. Well, you can do that. You can take that, but you're not taking this tree. I'm going to figure it out.” Doug Still: [24:47] So, why do you think Mary had something to do with it? Mateo Fennell: [24:49] She was the one selling that property. She was the executrix of the will. She grew up with that tree. She knew that there was proposed development going through that tree. I think when she was selling that property would have been a really good time to drop a little myth, a little legend. Hey-- [crosstalk] Doug Still: [25:12] That's an interesting story. Mateo Fennell: [25:14] So, I think that's a perfect time for this story to start. “Well, hey, we're selling you this property, but there's no deed to it. But there was a deed. Jackson, he actually deeded that tree to itself.” Just drops it in there and maybe it marinates for 20 years. I think that Jackson was useful. He's the son of a revolutionary war hero. He is respected. If the dying wishes of Jackson aren't going to be respectable, then no one's are going to be respected. But it strikes me as him being useful, being someone that no one's going to question. He lives in Macon at this point. He's four days away. Doug Still: [26:01] So, if Mary Ward had said that her dad deeded the tree to itself, it would have seemed fake, but bringing Jackson in gave it some legitimacy. Mateo Fennell: [26:11] Definitely. Yeah. Invoking the name of Jackson would have been huge. Doug Still: [26:15] One question. I know this is conjecture, but why do you think then the story popped up in the newspaper in 1890? Mateo Fennell: [26:24] I think there was probably a renewed push for development there. The home that's directly across from the tree that owns itself would have been put in around 1893. So, I think there was mounting pressure to talk about it, because homes were going in and they were reaching this tipping point where some decision had to be made about the tree. Doug Still: [26:51] This supremely creative effort to preserve a tree got me thinking. Can a tree own itself? I found the answer to this question, pretty quickly, if you simply adhere to the principles of common law. So, the recipient of property, in this case, the property is the tree and the land around it, must have the legal capacity to receive it. A tree is not a legal person. It doesn't have personhood in the eyes of our legal system. So, the tree cannot accept the receipt of property. Okay, that may be true, but it's pretty boring. I'll swing back to some newer views on that later. There's a more interesting question to ask, in my opinion, relevant to property owners and tree lovers everywhere. If a tree can't own itself, then who owns a tree? The answer is not always as simple as it may seem, and the issue has been at the center of many intense, passionate disputes for as long as people have been owning property. To tackle this question, I had the pleasure of speaking with James Komen. James is a board-certified master arborist, a registered consulting arborist, and a licensed California attorney. His research is focused on tree law cases from around the United States, which he has written and spoken about extensively. James, welcome to the show. James Komen: [28:11] Hi. Thanks for having me. Doug Still: [28:13] You are in California. Had you heard about the tree that owned itself before I invited you onto the show? James Komen: [28:19] I had heard about it. We actually talked about it a little bit in law school. Doug Still: [28:24] Really? James Komen: [28:24] We were just talking about property rights, and that idea came up. Doug Still: [28:29] Well, my questions for you are much more general in nature. Broadly speaking, in the United States, are trees owned and how is that determined? James Komen: [28:38] Well, generally speaking, trees are fixtures on the land. They're part of the soil. And so, they're thought of as real property. When you buy and sell the land on which the trees are growing, then you're also buying and selling whatever is fixed to that land, which could include houses or driveways or trees. Doug Still: [29:00] Got it. As we both know, trees are natural beings and don't respect property lines. When branches and roots reach over and into the neighbor's property, conflicts can arise. Who is responsible for the tree's maintenance? James Komen: [29:15] Well, that actually depends. That's quite a big question. What I won't do is I won't answer that directly, but what I can do is I can give you some examples and some things that have been considered when answering that question under specific circumstances. Doug Still: [29:33] Okay. James Komen: [29:34] So, one line of question would be, was it planted or was it naturally growing? Some trees, in some cases were planted. And then the person that planted the tree, whether it's the owner of the property at the time or their prior owner that they bought from. They put in motion something that ultimately led to harm to the neighborhood. In those cases, the courts have said that it was the responsibility of the tree owner to take action. Doug Still: [30:05] Interesting. James Komen: [30:06] In contrast, you might have a tree that was naturally growing, one that just volunteered on its own out of natural causes. And in some jurisdictions, like in Virginia, there's no liability for natural conditions of the land. Doug Still: [30:20] Would it be hard to prove sometimes that the homeowner planted a tree or didn't plant a tree? James Komen: [30:26] In fact, that's one of the reasons why many jurisdictions don't like this distinction of natural versus unnatural conditions of the land for determining responsibility for the tree. So, other jurisdictions have looked to other questions to answer that issue of who's responsible for the tree. Another line of analysis would be whether the tree is a nuisance or a non-nuisance. A nuisance is a substantial and unreasonable interference with the use of someone else's land. So, it might be a bad smell or a bad vibration or bad noise. But it could also be undue risk posed by a tree, or it could be undue litter created by a tree. Doug Still: [31:11] Would falling leaves count as undue litter? James Komen: [31:14] Well, it depends. [Doug laughs] There are some jurisdictions, specifically Hawaii and the States, that have adopted the Hawaii rule, that say leaf drop is not a nuisance as a matter of law. However, there have been some cases where, for example, eucalyptus bark shedding from the trees has been considered a nuisance. But the question of whether leaf drop is a nuisance can't be answered in the abstract. It's always going to turn on the facts of a particular case. Because when we talk about nuisance, we're always talking about balancing the rights of two adjoining landowners, one person who has the interest in having a clean property and the other one having an interest in maintaining the tree. There's necessarily going to be a conflict which goes back to the beginning of that definition, which is, what is a substantial and unreasonable interference with that right. Perhaps, it's not unreasonable to allow trees to drop leaves. After all, there's lots of trees in the neighborhood, and they drop leaves all the time. And of course, we're all expected to rake them up. Doug Still: [32:18] I just say, welcome to New England. We rake our leaves. James Komen: [32:21] But on the other hand, there have also been cases where someone says, “No, this is actually above and beyond that which would be tolerable by an ordinary property owner in the neighborhood.” They've made persuasive cases, why the tree is a nuisance, whether it's leaf drop or undue risk or branch failure, all of those could be an impairment of the neighboring property owner's right to use his own property in peace. Doug Still: [32:48] I know things get more complicated from there. You've spoken and written about this. What if the trunk of the tree straddles the property line? Who owns it then, and how is that determined? James Komen: [33:00] Well, again, it depends. There's actually a number of different theories for how to deal with trees on boundary lines, and it varies by jurisdiction and also has varied based on the facts of the cases too. I'll just give you a couple of quick examples. In Illinois, there's this case, Ridge v. Blaha. And it said that if any portion of the trunk crosses the property line, even if it's just an inch, then the tree is co-owned. So, I've termed that in my writings, “absolute” co-ownership of the tree, saying that it's very favorable to co-ownership. Another one, which is the opposite, which is, I've termed “limited” co-ownership theory. That's demonstrated by the Colorado Supreme Court case of Love v. Klosky in 2018, so a fairly recent case. That is very unfavorable to co-ownership. And it basically says if the tree began one side, it belongs to that owner. It does not change ownership simply because it grew across the property line. Another theory, I've termed the “presumption” theory, where if the boundary line passes through the trunk of the tree, we presume that it's co-owned, but that presumption can be rebutted. In other words, more facts can be brought in that show that actually the tree began one side, and it's actually solely owned by the owner of the land where the tree began. That was illustrated in a Louisiana case, Jack v. Successions of Albert. And then the last one that I wanted to share with you is unique to Georgia, actually. They've termed it the “party wall” theory. It's similar to the proportionate co-ownership, where we say you own the portion of the tree that's over your side. But instead of the percentage of the whole tree that you own, say, a 50% interest in the tree, a 30% interest in the tree, rather you actually own the half that is on your side, and the neighbor owns his half of the tree that's on his side of the line. Doug Still: [35:03] Well, this doesn't make for good arboriculture, in my opinion, because if someone says, “Well, this half is my part of the tree, I can just shear the branches up, cause I don't like them.” James Komen: [35:14] Well, yes and no. There's some offset that helps protect the interests of the neighbor. Not only do you own your half and the other guy owns his half, but both property owners own something called an easement of support from the other. So, if you do something to harm the neighboring property owner's right to maintain his half of the tree, well, then you still harmed his property interests. Doug Still: [35:41] I've always told people in the past, when this comes up. Speak to your neighbor, or communicate with your neighbor or it's a courtesy before you do anything to talk it over. But I feel like we're getting away from that more and more these days. James Komen: [35:56] What topic does come up in pretty much every jurisdiction that I've read cases is something called the “right of self-help.” That's actually different than ownership of the tree. It's possible that a tree can be owned by the neighbor, but have branches that reach into your property. And then the question is, do you have the right to cut those branches back to the property line? In some jurisdictions, they say you have the absolute right. In some cases, it's a qualified right, you have the right to cut back so long as you don't hurt the tree or impair the interest of the actual tree owner. So, I won't opine on what is or is not the law in any given jurisdiction. But those theories are out there and it's definitely active discussion in these tree law cases. Doug Still: [36:41] Yeah. Definitely gets very complicated. Some of your research looked into the history of tree ownership. It's very interesting. Even back before the birth of our nation, what were a couple of those early sources, and what did they have to say about joint ownership of trees? James Komen: [36:58] Yeah, as long as people have owned property and had trees on it, people have been fighting over them. But there's two cases that stick out in my mind, and they're both old English cases. The first one was a 1620s case called Masters v. Pollie, and the other one was a 1697 case called Waterman v. Soper. So, in Masters, the court held that the tree belongs to the owner of the land where the tree was planted. So, whoever planted the tree, it doesn't matter whether it grows across the line, it stays owned by that property owner, which is very similar to that Love v. Klosky case in Colorado. They actually cited that case in the decision. The Waterman v. Soper is very different. What they held was that the tree is co-owned if the roots grow into the neighboring property. The theory is the tree is deriving some of its nourishment from both properties, so the tree ought to be co-owned by both property owners. Doug Still: [38:03] After a quick break, I asked James Komen about the reach cities and towns have into protecting old trees, even if they are on private property, as well as some proposed new ideas that stretch the notion of ownership. You're listening to This Old Tree. [music] A property owner may be responsible for their tree, but we've moved into an era when the property owner may be required to protect or preserve the tree by their local jurisdiction. This is usually found in zoning ordinances or perhaps, in the local tree ordinance. Could you describe what you're seeing in this regard in California? James Komen: [38:58] Well, I work in the Los Angeles area. There's quite a lot of cities within driving distance of my place of work. Many of these cities have their own flavor of a tree protection ordinance. Some tree protection ordinances just protect street trees, trees growing in the public right of way along the street. Some tree protection ordinances protect certain heritage trees. Some protect trees on private property. And of those, some will protect just a list, say, six or seven species of a certain size. And others will protect all trees of all species of a certain size, except a list of unprotected trees. So, there's many different flavors of tree protection ordinances that are out there that I've experienced in my work in the LA area. Doug Still: [39:50] Here in Providence, we have a “significant tree regulation,” that protects trees, even if they're on private property, that are 32 inches in diameter or greater, DBH. I was in charge of enforcing it. I think overall, while it had a few issues, it was effective in at least making the removal of very large trees a more thoughtful process. What is the reason for tree protection ordinances in general, do you think, and what is the main objection? James Komen: [40:26] Well, I can start with the main objection, and it's interfering with property rights. Some people say, it's my property. I should be able to do what I want with it. I don't want the government telling me what I can and can't do with my own property. That's the objection that comes up all the time. But the benefits provided by trees that are either stated or even unstated reasons for passing these ordinances can vary. It's very common. We'll see things like aesthetics. The trees make our town more beautiful or shade. It makes our town cooler in the summertime. But also, there's some element of historic preservation. The trees represent a piece of history that transcends the human lifespan. And so, much like we try to preserve old structures that represent a piece of our past, so too, we try to preserve trees. Even beyond that, I've seen ordinances that specifically say, we're protecting the trees to prevent the deleterious effects of erosion and dust or excessive tree removal can lead to diminished property values, saying that we're protecting everybody else's interests in their property by preserving the trees on one person's property. There's been a number of different reasons given for tree protection ordinances, and a lot of them have been favorably looked upon by the courts that have reviewed them for validity. Doug Still: [41:55] I always explained it to people, that people determined through our political process that it was for the greater good. We have all these shared backyards. There's a big tree in someone's backyard that has been green and held birds, wildlife created screens, all of the things that a large tree can do. And if someone removes it, it really has an effect on the lives of everyone living around it. James Komen: [42:23] Now, in the past, one of theories that has been said over and over again is that the neighboring property owners who don't have a property interest in the tree. They're just merely incidental beneficiaries. They have no enforceable rights in these trees. The true owner is the person who owns the land where the tree is growing, and they can do as they please with the tree. But I think that there's actually been a shift lately. I can think of one unpublished California case, where there was a tree protection ordinance, and the tree owner decided that he wanted to chop down his tree anyway, and the local government didn't do anything about it. So, the neighbor took things into his own hands, and sued the tree owner cutter and said, “You violated the tree protection ordinance and you cut down that tree, and that has hurt my own property values. There's a tree protection ordinance that's in place for my property values.” The tree owner says, “Oh, well, it's not your tree. You can't sue me. Go away.” And the court said, “Actually, maybe the guy does in fact have standing because of the tree protection ordinance.” So, I think that there's an unexplored avenue of possibilities where tree protection ordinances might be giving municipalities power, but also, they may be giving private property owners, the neighbors power to enforce those tree protection ordinances in their interests as well. Doug Still: [43:47] Very interesting. I hadn't thought of that. You wrote a fascinating article that I thought was really interesting when I read it. It was titled “Creating a Marketplace for Large Trees,” published in Western Arborist. But it wasn't about harvesting trees and selling wood products. You propose a way to preserve old and historic trees by creating a way for interested parties to purchase the rights to a tree from willing or indifferent property owners who might otherwise just remove the tree for whatever reason. Do I have that right, and what are you proposing? James Komen: [44:25] Well, I think you have the basic idea. But before I explain it, I want to emphasize that right now this is just theory. Doug Still: [44:33] Sure. James Komen: [44:33] I'm not aware of anyone that has actually implemented this. But I think it's worth exploring. The idea is based in the mechanics of something called a “covenant” or “servitude.” What it is, is a property owner agrees to be bound by some restriction on the use of his property. In other words, he promises to do or not do a thing. Here, we're proposing to not cut down a tree. You're giving the right to enforce that to somebody else saying, “You have the right to take a look at my tree, you have the right to climb my tree, prune my tree, whatever, and I don't have the right to chop it down.” Because there is some detriment involved, because there is some actual sacrifice on the part of the property owner, the buyer of this right, this servitude or covenant, would likely pay some amount of money. So, there'd be an exchange of money for this promise. And then when the promise is made, it wouldn't just be between those two parties like an ordinary contract, but rather it would actually get recorded onto the property itself and it would do something called run with the land, which is basically like, it's a promise that binds all future owners of the land. So, when the landowner ultimately sells his land to somebody else, that future owner, even if they don't like the tree and they want to cut down their tree, they can't because they're still bound by this remaining covenant that was put in place by the prior owner. Doug Still: [46:09] Like an easement would transfer to future property owners. James Komen: [46:13] Very similar idea. Like an easement or a view covenant where you say, I promise not to build higher than 30ft and then the uphill owner can enforce that to see over. It would be similar, except instead of saying, I won't build higher, you say, I won't chop down the tree. Doug Still: [46:28] I ended my talk with James with a question outside the law. Is there a tree that you know of and love that you would bequeath ownership unto itself, if you could? James Komen: [46:40] I really like my oak tree. My wife and I joke that we bought a tree and the house came with it. It's a 90-foot spread coast live oak. It must be 250 years old or more. Doug Still: [46:55] Wow. James Komen: [46:56] It's just got this massive spread. It covers our whole property. Our little itty-bitty house is just right underneath a portion of its canopy. So, if there were going to be one tree that I'd want to make sure withstood the test of time, I would say it would be that one. Doug Still: [47:12] Definitely. You could start a new legend. James, thanks so much for an engaging and thoughtful conversation. I thoroughly enjoyed it. James Komen: [47:20] Thank you, Doug. Doug Still: [47:22] The communal value of trees - ecological, aesthetic and health promoting value - has long been touted by researchers and urban foresters. The fruits of that labor are manifested in the appearance of real, enforceable legislation. It's impressive how far we've come, although laws are unevenly local, and sometimes complex to enforce and understand. But what if there was another way to go about conservation, where the issue doesn't center around the rights of people per se? Some argue that a tree or some other element of nature is capable of receiving recognized rights, and that natural things have value for their own sake, not just the value they bring to people. This is called the “Rights of Nature,” and I'd be remiss in not bringing it up. Rights of Nature argues that existing laws regulate but don't stop damage to our environment, and that environmental destruction is a moral wrong. It's a point of view beginning to gain legal traction around the world. Rights of nature laws have been passed in Bolivia, Colombia, Ecuador, New Zealand and India. In the United States, jurisdictions in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Florida, California and a few other places have introduced legislation, most of which has been challenged in the courts. A thorough look into the Rights of Nature movement is worthy of an entire episode, or even a university course. But here it is in a simplified nutshell. Rather than treating nature as property under the law, rights of nature posits that nature in all its forms has the right to exist and maintain its life cycles. It's about balance in nature. Rights of nature has adopted many of the arguments of the animal rights movement, but moves beyond rights that focus on an individual - a dog or cat or pig, say - and extends these principles to rivers, mountains, and entire ecosystems. To some, natural entities are living beings imbued with a sort of animism. They have a right to a healthy existence. For many people, the rights of nature viewpoint stems from a religious or spiritual perspective with a sizable representation from indigenous advocates and communities. Some feel that natural things could be given legal personhood. After all, corporations now have standing as legal persons. Others suggest that using the word “personhood” may lead into a legal trap, and wish to offer rights to natural entities without the use of that word. The first writer to forward this idea was Christopher Stone in the Southern California Law Review in 1972. He wrote a piece called “Should Trees Have Standing? Toward Legal Rights for Natural Objects.” He states that all kinds of non-human matter has come to be recognized as possessors of rights, including trusts, corporations, joint ventures and other types of partnerships, municipalities and nation states, to name a few. So, why not a river or a lake or a tree? It may seem like a jarring, out-of-the-box concept, but there is real precedent and engaging philosophical thinking to back it up. I'm not sure if Stone knew that some passionate tree lovers in Athens, Georgia were already onto this 100 years earlier. The tree that owns itself was way ahead of its time. [music] Whether a deed was actually created for the old white oak on Dearing Street, or it was simply the story of such a deed that was created, the ruse worked because the neighborhood's street pattern was eventually implemented and the tree still stands. Or, does it? Here's Pat McAlexander. Pat McAlexander: [51:02] Well, we moved in 1996. So, it's 28 years. It was really interesting when we moved in, because all of a sudden, right after we moved in, they had a birthday party for the tree. Doug Still: [00:51:14] Really? Pat McAlexander: [51:15] It was 50 years old. Now, this is not the original tree. I guess you already know the story that the original tree fell in 1942. Doug Still: [51:24] Yes. That was right around World War II. And then right after the war, a new one was planted. Pat McAlexander: [51:31] Right. And that's the one that's next door to us. Yeah. Doug Still: [51:34] Yes. Pat McAlexander: [51:35] So, this is a-- it's the son or daughter of the original tree. Doug Still: [51:39] That's right. [laughs] Pat McAlexander: [51:39] Yeah. Doug Still: [51:41] Based on reports of the tree's slow decline over time, it is likely that its roots were damaged when the streets were finally created about 1908, according to Mateo. Mateo Fennell: [51:52] Some people say that it collapsed in on itself. Some people say that it just fell over. Regardless, it came down in a large windstorm. Doug Still: [52:02] When it fell in 1942, people collected the acorns from the famous tree and grew them in backyards. When things settled down after the war, one of these scions was chosen from the yard of captain and Mrs. Jack Watson, and the Junior Ladies Garden Club planted it in the same spot as its parent with the help of students from the Division of Horticulture from the University of Georgia. On December 4th, 1946, a rededication ceremony took place with many dignitaries in attendance, including the Mayor. Since then, its fame has only grown. Pat explained what it’s like to live next to it. She comes into contact with people who appreciate it nearly every day. When you moved in, were there any details to the story passed down to you by the previous owners or any of your neighbors that you could share? Pat McAlexander: [52:52] Well, it's interesting you asked that, because I started thinking, what stories did they tell? But of course, the main story we all knew about William Jackson and the will and leaving it to himself, because he so loved the tree. But people sent me a lot of clippings, not necessarily neighbors, but just Athenians. Clippings from old newspapers, picked old postcards proclaiming the only tree in the world that owns itself. So, those are the kind of things that they did though, they sent us a lot of stories. There are so many things that happen-- We have our own stories that we could, I could tell you. Doug Still: [53:32] Could you share some of them? Pat McAlexander: [53:33] Yeah. You mentioned earlier, asking about the tourists that come. There usually- Doug Still: [53:39] Yes. Pat McAlexander: [53:39] -are people out there much of the time. And they don't bother us. You might think, “Oh.” But it's not like hordes are out there. Doug Still: [53:48] You don't mind them? Pat McAlexander: [53:49] No. Not unless they block our driveway, which doesn't happen too often. But I think many of the schools assign the children to come and see the tree. So, you see parents coming with these little kids, and they have to take their picture of the little child with the tree. Doug Still: [54:05] Oh, that’s great. Pat McAlexander: [54:05] [crosstalk] they were really there. When we first moved in, a couple decided to get married under the tree. So, that was interesting. Doug Still: [54:14] How wonderful! Pat McAlexander: [54:15] Yeah. Doug Still: [54:15] Have they been back for their anniversary? Pat McAlexander: [54:18] Haven't seen them, but we had various parties at our house. My husband is a professor also, so he had a party for his graduate students. At it, a couple met each other for the first time, and fell in love and he proposed to her under the tree. So, they- Doug Still: [54:39] Wow. Pat McAlexander: [54:39] -come back for their anniversary to the tree. Doug Still: [54:42] That's great. Pat McAlexander: [54:43] Yeah. I'm trying to think of other tourists, people from, who have been to the university, who have come back or parents of students here visit the tree. Doug Still: [54:54] I bet people come from all over the country, because it's gone viral a couple times. Pat McAlexander: [54:59] Right. People have taken videos and newscasts about it. So, it's a pretty famous tree. It may own itself, but it doesn't clean up after itself. All the acorns in our driveway. Doug Still: [55:12] [laughs] I love that. Has the tree been honored in any way in the past? Pat McAlexander: [55:17] Perhaps, one of the first big things was that George Foster Peabody, who is the one who also founded the Peabody Awards, he's linked to the journalism school- Doug Still: [55:25] Really? Pat McAlexander: [55:26] -from the University of Georgia. Yeah. He saw potential in publicizing the tree. Wouldn't you know a journalist, right? So, he's the one-- Doug Still: [55:33] Makes sense. Pat McAlexander: [55:34] Yeah. He's the one that had the granite posts put around it and the chains linking the post. The stone that quotes from the will say people have also visited the tree. There was a couple, I wrote down their names, but they're from plantawish.org. It's an organization, and their goal is to plant a tree in every state. But of course, when they came to Georgia, they visited the tree and they set up a tent under it, and we're going to spend the night, except that night, a bad storm came and I noticed that they had left. They didn't quite make it through the night. Doug Still: [56:11] [laughs] I guess that might be put pushing it a little too far, if people start camping out in front of your house. Pat McAlexander: [56:17] You may have heard about a movie that was made that included a scene under the tree. The movie was, Not Since You is the name of it. Doug Still: [56:27] Not Since You. Pat McAlexander: [56:28] Not Since You. It was produced by someone here in Athens. But one of the scenes is under the tree, like the couple are sitting romantically under the tree. So, we provided the electricity for the lighting and we got to watch the scene filmed. So, that was fun. I want to share with you some quotes from-- Did I tell you the tree has its own Facebook page? Some of the quotes on that page are pretty interesting. People would say, “We're rooting for you. Happy birthday. Go out on a limb and celebrate.” [laughter] Pat McAlexander: [57:02] “We hope other trees will follow in your trunk steps.” [Doug laughs] And then some of them, they have the tree's voice like, I guess you know the Georgia team, the Bulldogs, their colors are red and black? So, they have the tree saying, “I'll put on some orange tomorrow, gold on Friday, and then on Saturday, the day of the games, and red on Saturday.” I mentioned already there are often people outside. And so, I see all these visitors come and park their cars. There's not much place to park. I see them looking around, [chuckles]- Doug Still: [57:40] Right. Is this okay? Pat McAlexander: [57:40] -pushing like its coming out driveway. Yeah. But they finally find a place. They stroll over to the tree with cameras. They read the new stone marker and pose in front of the tree while one member of their group, of course, takes the picture. But if I'm out there, guess who gets to take the picture? They ask me. Doug Still: [58:00] You. Pat McAlexander: [58:00] Yeah. So, I've taken pictures of sorority girls, and young couples, and church groups. Doug Still: [58:06] Why is the tree special to you? Pat McAlexander: [58:09] Well, partly, I guess just because it's been my neighbor for so long. Even if it doesn't clean up after itself, I like it. Doug Still: [58:19] I bet a lot of people feel that way about their street trees. Pat McAlexander: [58:22] They probably do, although this one is the only one that owns itself. Doug Still: [58:26] Right. [laughter] Pat McAlexander: [58:28] Actually, the city now takes care of it. They do a good job. They've had a lightning rod installed. Doug Still: [58:34] Well, Pat, thanks so much for joining me on This Old Tree and talking about the tree that owns itself. It's been a pleasure talking to you. Pat McAlexander: [58:41] Well, I enjoyed it too. Doug Still: [58:43] As Pat said, care responsibilities for the tree that owns itself fall to Athens-Clarke County. Any pressure caring for such a famous tree, or does it feel mainly like a privilege? Mateo Fennell: [58:56] There's definitely pressure. When you let someone prune a tree, you give them a lot. And as a municipal arborist, there have been many a time where I've had a company prune a tree and they do it badly. You can't have that on the tree that owns itself. Doug Still: [59:17] You cannot. Mateo Fennell: [59:19] It is a privilege to be able to make decisions about that tree though. I'm extremely honored to be the one that can make those decisions for it. Doug Still: [59:30] Why do you think this tree strikes a chord with people? Mateo Fennell: [59:34] I think it really strikes a chord, because we've given it personhood almost. We've given it agency. It's a rare thing to show respect to a tree. I think we really enjoy that. Athens, Georgia is a tree loving city. We have a long history of trees going back from Dr. Ward. And then even well past him, we've got citizen groups that are based around trees. Some of the first tree councils in the US were here in Athens-Clarke County. Doug Still: [01:00:19] These days, it's pretty much accepted that the tree owns itself, and people are happier to just love the tree. And let's not think about it too much. I like that. Any final thoughts about the tree? Mateo Fennellr: [01:00:32] So there was a writer in the early 20th century. What they said about the tree was this. “However defective this title may be in law, the public recognized it.” Doug Still: [01:00:46] That's perfect. Mateo Fennell: [01:00:48] I think that's the coolest part about the tree, is that it doesn't really matter if it owns itself or not, because it does. Doug Still: [01:00:55] That's great. Well, thanks for joining me today. I enjoyed our talk. I learned a lot. Mateo Fennell: [01:00:59] Yeah, thanks. Thank you for having me. Doug Still: [01:01:01] And good luck maintaining the legend. Mateo Fennellr: [01:01:04] Yeah. Well, hopefully we can increase the legend even more too. [music] Doug Still: [01:01:13] That was lots of fun. I'd like to thank my terrific guests for coming on the show, Mateo Fennell, James Komen, and Pat McAlexander. Thanks to them, I probably won't look at a tree the same way again. I'll be sharing pictures of the tree that owns itself on Facebook and Instagram. And our website is thisoldtree.show. Music was provided by D. Lee and also Ziv Grinberg. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. Until next time. [Transcript provided by SpeechDocs Podcast Transcription] |
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