Ever since leaving Georgia in June, I’ve been taking pictures with the idea of using them in diaries. But when I’m not in the woods, I’m usually feeling lazy. It’s way easier to read someone else’s diary than to assemble my own. With the forecast for plentiful rain today and tomorrow (the remnants of Hurricane Hilary), today is a good day to post a diary.
The Daily Bucket is a nature refuge. We amicably discuss animals, weather, climate, soil, plants, waters and note life’s patterns spinning around us.
We invite you to note what you are seeing around you in your own part of the world, and to share your observations in the comments below.
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Let’s start with a lesson in tree density, known in the profession as forest stocking. Any given site can only support so much biomass. Soil type, moisture levels, temperature, and other factors will encourage (or limit) what will grow there.
Mother Nature, however, does not neatly plan the ecosystem. Randomness is the rule. Sometimes there are not enough seeds, sometimes there are too many. When a good seed year for multiple species is combined with the right growing conditions, the race is on. The race can be in slow motion on a human scale, played out over decades, but the plants must compete for that limited space, with its limited moisture and nutrients.
Looking at the two above pictures, it’s easy to see why foresters want to thin the woods from time to time. We can help nature by selecting the best trees and giving them enough space to realize their full growth potential. Besides providing more wood for a resource-hungry planet, thinning also reduces wildfire danger. In a forest fire, clusters of young trees become ladder fuels that make it easy for a ground fire to become a crown fire.
A few days after taking the above pics, I encountered an extreme example of a cluster of trees surviving for decades. Normally no more than two or three occupants of the cluster will make it to “adulthood.” Here, 14 trees are clinging to life in a circle just 12 feet in diameter. It happened that they had no immediate neighbors, and thus were able to spread their crowns outward and gather enough sunlight.
Many individuals are doing quite well, but one by one the weakest will eventually fall by the wayside. In general, the ponderosa pines did the best. Douglas-firs are struggling to get their share of light and moisture. The lone western larch is barely making it.
Then there are the other extremes. Good news, the seedling in the pic below has no nearby competition. Bad news, nutrients are scarce. Summers are dry, and winters are long and snowy. If this were a hemlock seedling growing on a stump near the Oregon coast, it would send long roots to the soil and have an excellent chance to thrive. But here in the Idaho hills, this ponderosa pine faces long odds.
Moving onto another topic, trees have a great deal of redundancy engineered into their structure. They can be deformed, they can lean at scary angles, or their boles can be quite rotten, yet they remain standing and continue to grow.
Western conifers are sometimes infected by dwarf mistletoe. The various mistletoe species will affect one species, or one genus, of trees. Douglas-fir dwarf mistletoe often causes rounded witches’ brooms. This tree looks as if it were professionally manicured, but this is the work of natural forces.
That’s all I have today. Let us know what’s happening in your part of the world.