The Skinny on Suckers

You know what an oak tree should look like, right? Trunk rising straight and limbless to the forest canopy, when it spreads its limbs to claim its share of the sunlight.  Or maybe you’re thinking of a mighty monarch in Grandpa’s yard, massive limbs starting halfway up the trunk and bifurcating endlessly to form a thick, tangled crown that dominates the sky.  But though you may not have noticed, you’ve probably seen tall oak trunks clothed in a close-fitting cloak of leaves.  I see them on the edges of clearcuts and in subdivisions where house lots have intruded on forest spaces. Twigs bearing leaves have spontaneously appeared all up and down the tree. And this effect can be seen on many hardwoods, not just oaks, and as well as some conifers.  What causes this?

Most leaf buds lie at the end of young twigs, which themselves are found along older limbs branching from the tree’s trunk.  However, there are also buds hidden under the bark, kept dormant by hormones.  These are known as epicormic buds (epi=upon, kormos=log or trunk).

When a tree is under severe stress – through disease, insect infestations, or physical damage – the hormones are disrupted, letting the buds develop and grow shoots through the bark.   This can also occur when direct sunlight suddenly hits the tree trunk during the growing season – such as when all the neighboring trees have been removed.

These shoots don’t just appear on the trunk.  When cut down, some trees will sprout from epicormic buds around stumps; sweetgums will go farther, sending sprouts (aka “suckers”) popping up all along the roots. In landscapes where fire is common, the intense heat will kill the trunks of young trees; epicormic sprouts send stems up all around the root collar.  Root suckering is the reason we still have American chestnuts in the Piedmont and mountains.

Epicormic branching can cause problems with fruit trees.  The scions are grafted onto hardier but less-palatable root stocks, and if the fruit tree dies, the root stock may re-sprout without the desirable qualities of the graft (this is one reason why Bradford pears turn into Callery pears).

It’s not all bad, though.  Humans have learned how to use these sprouts for their own benefit.  Cutting a tree to deliberately create new sprouts is called coppicing. Limber young shoots can be used for waddle fences or walls, while older shoots can be used for poles for carpentry or firewood.  Coppicing is even used to increase cinnamon harvest.

It’s worth noting that many animals are attracted to the tender shoots growing from stumps.  Some trees are pruned above the reach of livestock to protect the harvest from browsers.  This variation is called pollarding.

So, what if you don’t want your hardwoods to get shaggy?  If you are in the process of clearing a lot, I’d recommend you clear it in stages over a few years; without that sudden shock of sunlight on the bark, the dormant buds are less likely to awaken.  However, chances are you either don’t have that much time or have already done your clearing and are unhappy with the new aesthetic. In that case, you can prune the new branches.  Again, don’t do it all at once, but cut them over several years.  Also, prune only during the winter to minimize stress to the tree.  Stressing the tree is what started this!

Appalachia’s Once and Future King

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Chestnut sprouting from the base of a dead trunk, Appalachian Trail

The story of the American chestnut (Castanea dentata) is a tale of tragedy and endurance.  Found in every state east of the Mississippi, the chestnut dominated the mountains and uplands of the Appalachians; some estimate one in four mountain hardwood trees were chestnuts.  It was a keystone species of its ecosystem. The prodigious supply of nuts provided food for wildlife and woodsmen alike, and an economic boon for mountain folk (sold nationwide, and especially popular at Christmas).  Chestnut wood was strong and rot resistant, an ideal material for rail fence, bridge and cabin. The fallen leaves decomposed into nutrient-rich humus to build up the thin mountain soils.  The mighty American chestnut was the king of the mountains.

But in 1904, a Japanese bark fungus turned up in New York City.  Called the “chestnut blight,” the pathogen infects the cambium, forming cankers and eventually girdling the tree.  The spores travel by wind, animal, or automobile, and by around 1950 the disease had swept the entire range, killing nearly every mature tree.  Only few survivors , outliers of the tree’s normal range,  still stand tall.  Yet the species  persists  in hill and hollow to this day. When stressed, the chestnut reacts by coppicing – sending up shoots from the roots or stump.  These new saplings from old roots rise up, but seldom grow more than a few inches in diameter before the blight strikes them down again. But the roots stir and twigs rise once more. So the cycle continues.

Last weekend, I drove a short ways along the Blue Ridge Parkway, a scenic road which winds through the mountains in North Carolina and Virginia.  Along the way there are many overlooks where one can park and enjoy the vistas.  Nature being loathe to stand still, the vistas are eventually screened as saplings reach skyward.  At one of these I saw where, two or three years previously, the Park Service chainsawed a swath of trunks that threatened the view.   At the bottom of the steep limb-strewn clearing, among the bottles, cans and other human detritus, a few sprigs of a chestnut tree clung to life.  Construction of the Parkway coincided with the blight’s appearance in North Carolina, so it is possible this individual was cut by the road crew before the fungus got to work on it.  Of course, the blight felled it each time it resprouted since then.

There are many small, aged survivors scattered throughout the eastern highlands, remnants of the 3-4 billion trees that dominated the  hill-mantling forests prior to the 20th century.  I will not see their ascendance in my lifetime, but hope they will one day take back their place as kings of the forest.

For More Information:

Follow the links given in the wiki page for American chestnut.

Here is a presentation on efforts to restore the American chestnut.

The Saga of the American Chestnut

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Chestnut below the Blue Ridge Parkway