Three years ago when I was working in Idaho, I encountered an ancient ponderosa pine tree at the edge of a rocky meadow. It bore the scars of a few centuries of existence. Fire, lightning, snow, wind, and drought had all taken turns against the tree, and still it stood firm.
The Daily Bucket is a nature refuge. We amicably discuss animals, weather, climate, soil, plants, waters and note life’s patterns.
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.
Each note is a record that we can refer to in the future as we try to understand the phenological patterns that are quietly unwinding around us. To have the Daily Bucket in your Activity Stream, visit Backyard Science’s profile page and click on Follow.
At my first encounter, I measured the diameter of the tree at 63 inches. I posted the above picture, and also this one, in a Daily Bucket.
Recently I found myself working in the same area as the big tree. It is visible from the gravel road I was driving, so I knew that it was still standing. And though the tree had endured many hardships, the foliage was still a healthy green.
Is there any danger that loggers will covet the behemoth? None at all. First of all, today’s sawmills are tooled for smaller logs, 30 inches diameter and smaller. Second, a fire from long ago seared a huge scar into one side. Third, there’s a big lightning scar on the opposite side. Fourth, all those limbs and forks make for low quality lumber. The tree will remain standing as long as it can withstand the forces of nature.
Here are a few more pics, taken September 1, 2022.
What is the diameter of the pine now? Still 63 inches. At such an advanced age in a dry location, the yearly diameter increments are tiny indeed. How old is the tree? No way of knowing for certain, but I’m guessing somewhere around 500 years, maybe more. According to one source, the oldest known age attained by a ponderosa pine is 907 years. The species is capable of hanging on for many centuries when the conditions are right.
The diary title refers to the tree as a grandfather. Given that pines are monoecious — having both male and female flowers on the same tree — we can just as easily call it a grandmother tree. Attaching human traits to trees can lead to many such dilemmas.
Today is my last full day in Idaho. I finished my forestry field work on Sunday. Just in time; yesterday saw two spells of heavy rain. I plan to spend two days at my cabin in Washington. Then I will drive eastward through Montana, and then southeastward towards Missouri. As usual, I have not decided on an exact route as of yet.
If any Bucketeers live along my potential path of travel, and are willing to put up with a forester and a cat for a night, send me a kosmail.
The floor is open. Your observations and pics are welcomed.