Forest Restoration Setback

In 2003, our organization expanded a forest restoration project originally begun in 1990.  In the expanded planting of 200 trees, we included a dozen pure American chestnuts (Castanea dentata) that we obtained from a nursery in Oregon.  The Oregon nursery said it believed its seedlings were resistant to the chestnut blight fungus (Cryphonectria parasitica), a pathogen introduced into the United States in the 1920s via imported Chinese chestnut trees.

For those who don't know the story of chestnut blight, the fungus quickly spread from the point of introduction (New York City) throughout the eastern United States.  By the time the pandemic had subsided, one quarter of all trees in the eastern deciduous forest had died, and what had been a major component of the forest became, for all intents and purposes, ecologically extinct in only a few decades.  (Not all chestnut trees died outright; the roots of some of the trees remain alive and continue to produce sprouts.  Once the sprouts reach about 20 feet in height, they are attacked by the fungus again [the fungus remains in the environment] and die back to the ground.  Some saplings even survive long enough to flower and set seed.)

With regard to our planting, the chestnuts have grown tall and beautiful over the last decade; perhaps, I hoped, they really were resistant to the fungus as the nursery suggested.  Then, two weeks ago while on a walk, I noticed that one of the trees had a wound located right a the top of the tree shelter we use to protect all trees from deer damage.  Maybe the tree shelter had rubbed the bark and caused the wound...  But, you probably already know where this is going.  On closer inspection and upon comparison with references, the wound turned out to be a canker caused by the blight fungus.  In fact, there are tiny tell-tale red fungal fruiting bodies on the bark surrounding the canker as well, visible above the canker if you look closely at the image accompanying this post.

I contacted the American Chestnut Foundation (which is trying to develop a resistant chestnut strain) to determine if I should destroy the tree to prevent or delay the fungus from spreading to the other chestnuts.  The Foundation's representative told me that my story was all too familiar and that destroying the tree would only delay spreading the fungus by a very short time.  Better, the person said, would be to let nature takes it course and, hopefully, the roots will re-sprout once the above-ground portion of the tree dies back.

A Forest Restored (sort of)

Angelica Creek in Nolde Forest

Kali and I are actively house hunting in preparation for retirement in about six years.  Because we live in a residence that is a perquisite of my position, when I retire we will have to move, and now may be a perfect time to buy a house.  We're strongly considering New Mexico and Colorado, but also thought we ought to investigate Charlottesville, Virginia (watch for an upcoming blog post) as well as some areas near our current abode in southeastern Pennsylvania.  So, yesterday, we ventured about 50 miles northwest of Philadelphia into the exurbs to look over small municipalities that would have some character, be walkable, and provide a sense of community.

Long and short: we didn't find any, and Charlottesville, Virginia is looking better and better.

After we gave up on the town hunt, we drove a bit further west to the city of Reading.  Just south of town, we hiked at Nolde Forest Environmental Education Center.  Nolde Forest is the former estate of German immigrant Jacob Nolde, a hosiery baron who bought 665 acres in the early 1900s.  When he purchased the land, it had been completely deforested (with the exception of a single huge white pine tree) by timbering and charcoal-making operations in Reading.

Nolde hired an Austrian forester by the name of Kohout to help him design and plant a "luxury forest" of spruces, firs, and pines.  Many native hardwoods also volunteered on the property.  Jacob's son Hans subsequently built a beautiful Tudor-style stone mansion for his family on a topographic high point in the re-growing forest.

The state bought the property in the late 1960s to create an environmental education center, and to provide a passive recreational facility for the residents of Reading.

Hans Nolde's mansion, now administrative offices

Last season's tuliptree (Liriodendron tulipifera) seeds clinging to a branch fallen from the canopy

The 11 miles of trails threading through Nolde Forest are the remnants of logger's trails or trails that Jacob Nolde created to facilitate reforestation.  In general, the trails are wide, well maintained, dry, and ascend slopes gradually.

Kali and I were both struck by the incredible volume of woody debris in the woods and along the trails throughout the entire park.  It looked like a windstorm had shorn the tops from most of the trees and dumped the branches alongside the trails.  I could understand this happening if such a storm had passed through in one location, or in less sheltered parts of the woods, but all of the trails throughout were bordered by large windrows of downed woody debris.  What gives...?

The city of Reading, about 5 miles distant

We walked five miles at Nolde.  The day was perfect for a hike (cloudless skies, sunny, and temperatures in the mid-60s F).  Apparently a lot of other people thought so, too, because the parking lot was full to overflowing.