Part 9

Throughout the Eastern States there is an abundance of broadleaf stump-sprout thickets, which have come by inheritance to the ground from which their progenitors were removed by the wood-cutter’s ax. While some of these approach nearly to the European coppices in intention, they do not bear out the resemblance sufficiently for a comparison. They lack their system and structure, though they depend upon the same power of reproduction for their existence. Nevertheless, they have their own charm. I remember one, at the edge of a tall forest, in which the sprouts were composed of oak, beech, hickory, tulip tree, dogwood, haw, and a few pine saplings, all of which formed a dense thicket of young trees. In summer it was pleasant to thread one’s way through this place, quite concealed by the straight young growth, or to lie down there and listen for a whole morning to the twitterings and songs of birds, shut in by a wealth of foliage.

There is another type of European forest known as “coppice under standards.” This is no more than a coppice growing underneath a selection forest somewhat different in aspect from the one already described. In the present case the selection forest is opener, the trees being fewer in number. Ample light is thus admitted for the growth of the coppice beneath. The appearance of the whole is that of an open forest into which the younger thickets have penetrated.

The esthetic effect of this combination may be described in very few words. While the coppice loses much of its charm, the overspreading forest gains something by this sacrifice. The former keeps the soil in fair and fresh condition, thus insuring a healthy growth to the large trees. It also shades the lower portions of their trunks, in consequence of which many of them develop into clean specimens, with strong, well-rounded stems, and graceful, wide-spreading crowns.

The last of the four types, the “high forest,” is the most artificial and highly developed of the series. In its construction it is in some respects like the coppice; for, as in that type, there is a uniformity of size in the trees on restricted areas, and the species that compose the entire forest are very limited in number. Coniferous high forests, which are the most common, are often composed of only a single kind of tree, and broadleaf forests of the same type rarely contain more than two or three species. These forests, like the coppice, comprise a full complement of sizes and ages, each confined to a separate section; but the steps are not single years, as in the coppice, but periods of ten or twenty years, or even more; so that the high forest, above all, is a much taller and older one. The sections that compose it are not regular in outline, except in certain forests on flats and levels, nor do they necessarily lie side by side in the consecutive order of size and age. Finally, the high forest also differs from the coppice in the manner of its origin; for, while the former owes its existence to seedlings that have grown up spontaneously, or been sown or planted, the coppice is a young forest that has sprouted from the stumps of trees that have been cut.

Thus the high forest, while it may be compared with the coppice in its construction, is yet in certain respects so different from it as to convey a very distinct impression. I here disregard the younger portions of the forest, for, in the light of the present discussion, they are merely preparatory to the mature forest, destined to be useful only after the completeness of age. In the older portions the one distinguishing characteristic is simple dignity. To this one quality all other points of excellence or beauty conform and adjust themselves. The young tree or the casual shrub that may have found its way into the company of the centenarians, is welcome; but the absorbing interest lies in the noble grandeur of the old trees that have grown up together. Some, under the influence of better soil or more light, have done better than others; but they are all sound and stately trees, and together represent the best product of the forest. Long ago other trees that grew in their midst, but were less promising, were removed for the sake of these. Under their continuous roof of foliage there is a cool, deep shade. The ground is scattered with fern, or covered with deep beds of leaves, or with the glossy needles of the conifers. If the forest has originated from seeds borne by a generation of trees that previously occupied the same spot, and the seeds germinated here and there and sprouted into a new forest upon the removal of the old, we shall now find the trees distributed in natural positions. Where, however, the new forest has been planted, which is often the case with the conifers, the trees stand in close rank and file, and we walk among their columns as in natural aisles and corridors. Here there is hardly a shrub to shut out the gloomy distance, and only at intervals a stray intruder with exceptional powers of shade endurance, a dwarfed yew tree, or a beech with refined, fan-like spray, comes into notice in the vista.

* * * * *

If these are some of the changes that are wrought in forests through the application of a new science, if, through forestry in Europe, one kind of beauty has passed away and another kind has been called forth, will our own forests, it may be asked, undergo in time similar alterations? We cannot doubt that they will grow more artificial; but under the modified application of the science of forestry to our own conditions, so different from those of Europe, the esthetic changes to be looked for would be difficult to predict. Nor would these changes be predetermined, but, on the contrary, would depend very largely upon chance. It should be noted that forestry and landscape art are distinct; that the former, ordinarily, is not affected by the latter, and has its own ends and aims—those of material usefulness. I say ordinarily, because there are circumstances under which forestry might, with slight modifications and without a compromise to its own interests, adjust itself to some of the principles of landscape art. Indeed, this possible adjustment has been a subject of interest in Germany for more than twenty years, and the feasibility of a relationship between landscape art and forestry has been practically demonstrated by a noted German forester, Herr Heinrich von Salisch, on his own estates. This gentleman has applied to them the practical methods of approved forestry under such modifications as his experience and taste suggested, and has thereby not only made his forest profitable, but also more beautiful than it was before.

With respect to our own forests it may be asserted that most of the private forest holdings of the United States, and probably all our national forest reserves, as such, are destined primarily to serve purposes of utility, and very often to serve such purposes only. There are, however, a number of large forest estates owned by individuals, and some belonging to commonwealths and municipalities, which are esteemed as highly for their scenic character as for their material value, and pass in the public mind as emphatically under the name of parks as they occur to it in the light of financial investments. Such, for instance, are the Adirondack State Park and several large private forest estates in the same region, as well as certain large tracts of exceptionally beautiful forest in the western part of North Carolina and about the head waters of the Mississippi, which have now for some time attracted wide attention as desirable public possessions.

In such forests as these, esthetic considerations might suggest certain departures from the ordinary methods of forestry. Some people apparently wish to go further, and believe that certain portions of these tracts should remain entirely undisturbed, in order that their primeval character may be preserved for the enjoyment of all future generations.

The idea of a forest park, intact and inviolable, calls to mind our national parks of the West, which were actually established by Congress for that very purpose. Possessing, as they do, wonders of nature and exceptional scenery, these parks have been thought worthy of preservation solely for their own sakes. This difference in intention chiefly distinguishes them from the national reserves; so that, while the latter stand for the material benefit of the nation—whether it be directly, in the value of the timber, or indirectly, through the influence of the forest on the flow of streams—the value of the parks, on the other hand, speaks out of their own countenance. Their merit consists in the influence of beauty and sublime scenery on the moral state of man. They are healthful, vigorous breathing-places, where noise and smoke and harassing cares are laid aside.

It is well to bear this distinction in mind, because it appears not to be clearly recognized. While the reserves do not necessarily exclude some of the special advantages of the parks, their value lies, above all, in their stores of wealth. In this connection it may be said, for instance, that the designation “Adirondack Park,” that is currently applied to the State forest of northern New York, is a somewhat misleading expression; for, although its beauty is well known and appreciated and the State Constitution at present even forbids any cutting within its limits, yet the most competent judges believe that the Adirondack forest is exceedingly well fitted for the purposes of practical forestry. Indeed, several private tracts within that region already constitute the best known examples of practical forestry in our country. If, however, it is intended to separate certain portions from the remainder, either within this region or that of the proposed Minnesota reserve, and to preserve these for their unique or exceptional character, these segregated tracts are parks in themselves, and should so be called.

But the identity of our five national parks in the farther West is unmistakable; and these would appear to suggest neither forestry proper, nor landscape forestry, nor even landscape art. In them nature speaks for herself. The tasteful and well judged construction of roads and trails that shall be in harmony with the scenes through which they pass, or, better still, that shall be as unobtrusive as possible, is evidently a necessity if the parks are to be enjoyed by large numbers of people. In exceptional cases the ax may be needed for the very preservation of the forest. But the principal care should be to protect these forests from fire, defacement, and spoliation. For to us and future generations the parks stand, above all, as examples of the glory of our primeval forests.

The groves of big trees in the national parks of California, the geologic wonders of Yellowstone, and the specimens of arctic fauna still living among the matchless glaciers of Mount Rainier, are national possessions of great interest, for whose preservation not only Americans, but distinguished Europeans also, have pleaded. These, then, are ours for their own sakes; but most of our other national forest possessions will undoubtedly have to submit to further development and to the dictates of a sterner necessity.

NOTES

Note 1, page 5. There are about fifty distinct species of oak indigenous to the United States.

Note 2, page 23. The bloom of the dogwood begins to wither and fall with the appearance of the leaves. In the illustration facing page 22 several leaves are seen among the bloom, but they belong to the bough of a neighboring tulip tree.

Note 3, page 47. The juniper berries are in reality transformed cones.

Note 4, page 52. The habit of the firs in early life is shown in the plate facing page 125.

Note 5, page 63. Curiously enough, the old English conception of a forest was chiefly that of a hunting ground, irrespective of the trees growing there. Consequently some forests were very open stretches of ground.

Note 6, page 71. The red-winged blackbird lingers in the Southern States through the winter.

Note 7, page 163. German forestry—and, in a less degree, European forestry also—is indebted to Herr von Salisch for elaborating the idea that forest art can be united with practical, utilitarian forestry. His book on “Forest Esthetics,” which fills a unique place in the literature of forestry, is an exposition of this interesting subject, based upon mature knowledge and experience.

Note 8, page 163. To the reader who is not familiar with the origin of our forest reserves it may be of interest to know how they became established. By an act of Congress of March 3rd, 1891, the President was empowered to segregate from time to time, and for the benefit of the American people, forest areas situated within the limits of the public lands of the United States. In accordance with this act proclamations were issued by Presidents Cleveland, Harrison, and McKinley, reserving forest areas amounting thus far (September 1st, 1901) to 46,398,369 acres, or approximately 72,500 square miles. There are, however, within these areas numerous bona fide holdings of private ownership, in which the owners are carrying on extensive cutting of timber.

The reserves have been placed under the authority of the Commissioner of the General Land Office, Department of the Interior, and are entrusted to the care of specially appointed superintendents, supervisors, and rangers. Some of these forest tracts are now undergoing a careful study by experts in forestry, with the aim of subjecting them to methods of treatment specially adapted to them, in order that they may yield both useful material and a constant revenue, without impairing the productive power or vitality of the forest. The objects will thereby be fulfilled for which these reserves were established.

INDEX TO THE NAMES OF TREES and the Synonyms in Common Use

By special permission of the Division of Publications, U. S. Department of Agriculture

NOTE.—Only the trees that have been specially described or compared are included in the index

COMMON NAME SCIENTIFIC NAME PAGE

BROADLEAF TREES