Wow I really ran off on a tangent over there on the last post. As humans, we seem to appreciate things that are bigger and older than us, like trees. They have seen and been through more than any of us, and yet they stand there unmovingly, silent. Something about their branches upstretched towards the sky. They are the epitome of the religious sublime and just enduring grandeur in general. I really do love trees and I am saddened by their destruction by disease, as well as by human activity. Growing up in a neighborhood undergoing redevelopment in a rapidly developing suburb of DC, I have seen more than my fair share of trees, often older than the houses they stand by go down and be replaced by new McMansions or entire forests be replaced by a new subdivision. It seems that in the buzz of growth and prosperity, we have forgotten what literally constructs the country-trees. Sometimes us treehuggers secure a victory, such as when urban planners decided to build metro tracks to curve around the oldest tree in my county at an estimated 299 years old. Even then, it's bounded by a 6 lane road on one side, and a freeway on another and if it wasn't the oldest tree, it would have been ground to mulch.
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| The Linden Oak, a White Oak, with the metro tracks in the background |
In comparison, the oldest tree on campus here at Cornell is also an White Oak, with an estimated age of 350 years old. It is located on Libe slope near Gannet.
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| Cornell's oldest tree |
In the arboretums, I saw this oak, a Red Oak, which is actually much larger than the Libe Slope oak. However, I could not find any information on the age of the tree or the circumstances of its existence. I have observed trees from all walks of life so I could probably make a guess. Based on its low branching, it probably grew in a full sun and exposed environment. The tree didn't have to grow upwards and compete for light as it would in a forest. It's also meant it had no use as lumber. It was also probably spared the fate of being plowed over since it grew at the transition between a flat area useful for farming into a rather steep hill. The area to the left is still being used as research fields today. As the trees grew in around it, the oak was forced to reach up for the light again, which is why many of the horizontal branches abruptly turn upwards. These limbs died back to a limb that had access to the sun. The wounds from these large dead branches will probably be the downfall of the tree though, as rot progresses down the branches and hollows out the trunk, the horizontal branches might overload, leading to collapse. Cornell seems to see the tree as a risk, which is why it is roped off. It's also pretty good for the tree if we don't tread on its rootzone.
I wouldn't be surprised if this majestic oak has been here for longer than Cornell has been around. Let's see, 1865 founding... 152 years... So if that tree is older than 150 years than it's older than Cornell. Maybe, but without a core we will never find out. Or maybe we don;t hear about it because it's not the oldest or the biggest (also on Libe Slope). It's a shame that people often only care about the superlatives. The way
I see it, a 100 year old oak still deserves respect. Don't kill it by
stupidly digging a trench 15 feet from the trunk for a septic line. Even a sapling is something precious. The majority of seeds produced don't even get to sprout. We should share the land with the trees that inhabit it. They hold memories of the past (in the rings and branches) and are inn fact living things. In any case, this majestic tree that is lucky to not be located in any land desirable for development (like that poor Fernow oak). May it have many years of life ahead.
