Preserving American Beech Trees

American Beech trees are threatened by two different organisms: a fungus which attacks bark via puncture wounds and, more recently, an invasive nematode infecting leaves. The fungus gains access following invasion of a native insect, scale, which opens wounds in the smooth, grey bark. Though scale’s tiny puncture wounds do not ordinarily harm the tree, the access route allows the fungus to enter resulting in fatal disease within several years following infection.

At least in the case of the fungal disease, prevention is theoretically possible by selecting American Beeches which are naturally resistant to scale. These native trees would be expected to produce a high percentage of resistant offspring and, since the fungus is unable to penetrate intact bark, propagation of these resistant beeches would allow for the maturation of healthy trees despite the presence of the fungus. Of course, other injuries to the trees’ bark would still put them at risk, and dealing with the nematode infection is a separate and important battle.

Proceeds from images (below) support research to identify and propagate beech trees naturally resistant to scale, thus promoting survival. This approach to combating Beech Bark Disease seems both straightforward and achievable, given time and support. Treatment and prevention of nematode infection will also be necessary to promote survival of our native American Beech trees.

My Disappearing Beech Trees

 
 

1.

Back in ’87, rod straight beeches

had flawless bark like fabric draped tight.

Wind drifting through the leaves

would wash away their silence,

the soft sough reminding me

not all reverence is found in churches

nor all passions spurred by fair hair

or soul-deep doctrine.

 

But then change quietly came

in the form of scale, a small insect

boring through beeches’ steel gray skin

to feed beneath the bark. Fungus

found the doorways opened and

fed themselves till blisters broke

and spread like a pox, a plague.

 

I watched each canker crack and open,

stared as sting of disease worked its way

through the woods until all that stood

was nightmare.

 

2.

Think of cities’ street-bound homeless

bundled on sidewalks in blankets and decay –

after you've seen the tenth or twentieth

or one hundred and twentieth,

wrench of pain closes the heart’s valves,

won’t let blood bear its numbing news.

The mind looks for detours,

side roads easier on the eyes.

                       3.

Think of beeches, my beeches

standing fifty feet tall, a foot wide,

while somewhere inside me

they vanish.

 

  

 


by Don Herzberg - 5/2021