Two days ago, while sitting at our computers writing, Rebecca and I heard a sharp retort — almost like a gunshot — issue from our woods. We paused in our typing. A moment later, we heard another one. We looked across at each other. What now?
Then it was if thirty guns started firing all at once, for a loud crashing emerged from our woods, and we knew immediately what we were hearing.
One of our huge oaks had fallen.
Now, our trees aren’t exactly ancient, but one is large enough in girth that two people can’t touch when they try to wrap their arms around it. We hiked down into the woods and soon found the fall. It wasn’t a tree that had fallen over, but rather a huge half of an oak that had long been splitting down its middle. The weaker half had fallen away, crashing to the ground. Standing before it, we could still hear pops and cracks as the weight settled. We heard these sounds even into the night, as the wood adjusted to the new strains.
It can be sad to see a fall like this. Luckily, our oak still lives, and has just lost some significant limbs. But under that massive branch are healthy trees, bent forever under the impossible weight, and it’s sad to see them shattered and broken when a moment before they were reaching for the sky.
Of course, these falls also bring other changes to the forest. Now there is an opening in the canopy where before there was only shade. A small maple tree has suddenly learned that it has been growing in a very opportune position — light streams down on its leaves, and it is free to grow into the wide opening left by the oak’s collapse. Our woods-camp, just ten paces from the fallen oak limb, now has a clear view to the starry sky. And plants that favor sun over shade will find, for a year or two at least, that there is an abundance of sunshine.
Rebecca and I will enjoy the fallen oak as well. It’s a climbing-gym now, where we can pretend to be squirrels and test our balance and agility without fear of falling too far. It will provide a graceful arch over our favorite walking-path up to the woods-camp, and in the winter it will be beautiful, the dark bark coated with snow.
A mighty crash, and the woods is given a new song. How lovely destruction can be.
Posted on September 14th, 2009 by Kenton and Rebecca
Filed under: Nature Inspiration
Nice to see those two very passionate words hanging out together in the same thought—lovely and destruction. Without change, nothing new, and what better place to see that stuff than in your own back yard?
“If a tree falls and no one is there to hear it…” I have always thought was so silly, ’cause just look—you two heard it!
—j
I’ve only heard that sound once before and it stops you in your tracks. Thanks for sharing. Oh and my family and I watched the movie you suggested last night. They were glued…as was I. Thanks for the recommendation. I think I will also pass it on at Nature For Kids. – Take Care
Someday it may be a place for cavity nesters to call home.
Thanks for the great thought, Jay. Those two words do belong together, don’t they, though it’s seldom thought of. It can be tough to remember, but it’s really true. On example is when we see something especially lovely, like a snake, dead on the road. It can be very sad, but that dead snake is also going to become a yummy treat for a crow or some ants. Death, life, all intertwined . . .
Hello Shawna!
Isn’t it amazing to hear such a thing?
Glad to hear you liked ‘The Fox and the Child’. We’d love to read your review if you do one — feel free to leave a comment here (or on the movie review post) and link to it!
Great thought, Carole. We’re sure that there are many effects that we haven’t thought of, and we’re eager to see what we can observe. As you note, it will surely become home to many creatures! Oddly, when climbing about on it today, we discovered a raccoon high in the tree, laying very still as if dead, except that it was blinking. It was too high to be able to tell what was going on, but we wondered if the raccoon’s situation was somehow tied in with the tree’s fall . . .
I know exactly what sound you are talking about. I was awoken one morning at 6:00 AM to that loud cracking sound that only a large tree can make. In my case it was a large maple tree directly in front of our bedroom window. Half of the tree came down narrowly missing the bay window. It saddened me to see the tree in such a sad shape, but now i don’t mind. Birds build nests in the hollow section, insects love it, which attracts more birds to feed on them. Raccoons have even been known to peek their heads outta the hole.
If you get a chance and if you haven’t already, I would love for you both to visit my other blog http://MObugs.blogspot.com I would love to hear what you think of it.
Hello MObugs41!
Isn’t it amazing to hear one fall? And it sound as if it almost hit your house! Whew! It must be so interesting to watch how the ‘dead’ parts of a tree create such a haven for new life.
We LOVE your other site! Thanks for introducing us! We put it right up on our Awesome Nature Blogs blogroll. That infestation was truly fascinating, and the Arrowhead Spider left us speechless. Could it be any more beautiful??? ‘Bugs’ are simply amazing, and it’s always a good time to step out during the warm months and see what creatures one can find under logs, on the bottoms of leaves, or spinning silk between two plant stalks. Your blog gives us inspiration to get out and do that even more =)
I heard that sound in the middle of the night one time while camping – scared the bejeezus out of me! The next morning we awoke and found a massive treefall in one of the nearby vacant campsites – very sobering to think what could have happened.
These treefalls reinforce in me the concept of a ceaseless cycle of life and death. The oak is dead, but the forest is alive – new homes to house birds, new food to feed insects, and slight change in the composition of the forest. One by one, added up over time, one gains a sense of the true life force that is at work.
regards–ted
Thank you so much for your kind words, I am so glad you like the MObugs blog. It is my favorite one to work on. I have a passion for insects. One of my favorite things to do when giving nature hikes to children is to let them turn logs over to see what is living in these “critter hotels”. We always find something interesting. I am waiting for the day when a snake slithers out…LOL
I did a double-take when i noticed that caterpillar with the parasite infestation, that was amazing to witness. You are correct that spider was stunning.
Hello Ted,
The power of that much weight in wood . . . this one actually fell about ten paces from our ‘woods camp’ — a wigwam-like structure we built last year. It is indeed a bit frightening to think of the sheer power of such a fall — to see thigh-thick trees bent like wet noodles . . .
Thanks for sharing such a wonderful vision of the play of life and death, by the way. It’s falls of all kinds — animals, plants, leaves, insects — that eventually decompose and give us the soil that begins the whole cycle all over again. What a beautiful story it is!
Hi MObugs!
Ah, what a surprise it will be when a snake does, indeed, someday slither forth! We’re not sure if you’ve visited Ted’s site (who made the comment just above yours), but he also has an excellent and informative insect site that we love to visit.
We love the idea of ‘critter hotels’. And how fun that you lead nature adventures with children — they are so fun to work with, and in our opinion it’s one of the most important things that we can do as human beings — to instill in the next generation a love and respect for wild things and wild places. Keep up the great work!