First and foremost, it is absolutely critical for me to extend my deepest thanks to Jon Hartill of Hartill Trädexpert for organising such a superb single-day event (here is an overview of the itinerary) in Sweden. Indeed, bringing together three such critical speakers (Ted Green, Lynne Boddy and Frank Rinn) who, as was expected, but more acutely so in hindsight, worked well as a unit and offered much in the way of vital information and data, was not likely a simple task. Of course, it worked, and my 12 pages of hand-written scrawlings is testament to this. Thus, the purpose of this blog post (or posts, should I say) is to share the information gathered, so that it can be disseminated more widely and stimulate thoughts amongst the internet audience.
Some of the delegates from this seminar. As you’ll see from the below picture, the setting was also rather fitting for a discussion on trees…Say hello to the town of Kungalv!
Ancient trees – what secrets remain?
The day was opened by Ted Green, the founder of the Ancient Tree Forum. Here, however, his role was not so much to discuss what is known of our ancient trees, but of what we still need to know – what don’t we know? Granted, there’s probably an utterly frightening amount we are yet to understand, though Ted’s talk was not to wallow in such an angst but instead to prompt directed focus towards aspects of ancient trees we really do need to understand next.
Principally, it was important to set the tone of the presentation: hollowing is an entirely natural process, which very few ancient trees escape. In fact, do they even want to escape such a ‘fate’? Arguably, the answer is no. Anyway, at this early stage, Ted made the distinction between the decay of central wood, separating the decay of heartwood (i.e. Quercus) and the decay of ripewood (i.e. Fagus). ‘True’ heartwood forms when phenols and other extractives and toxic substances to fungi are deposited within the non-living (largely) woody tissues, as sapwood becomes redundant. Ripewood, conversely, forms via different mechanics associated with wounding and other events. However, this was a point posited just to illustrate context, more than anyway.
The real ‘meat’ began when Ted began assessing where the notion of hollowing being bad came from: forestry. As an economic practice, it is obvious that hollowing would be seen as destructive, as basal decay hampers return upon the investment of a stand. Despite this, when moving away from forestry, we can observe that hollow trees don’t drop like flies under wind-loading events – as was the case when the 1987 storm (hurricane) hit the UK and hollow trees stood whilst solid neighbours fell. Certainly, hollow trees did fail and when they did it was oft at the point where the internal hollow met sound wood, though the general jist is that hollowing does not necessarily infer a risk of failure beyond that of what a solid tree would be considered to possess. Ted speculated that this hollowing meant that, under wind loads, the main stem could flex and ‘safely’ deform (a bit like a hosepipe when squeased slightly) under tension and torsion, thereby protecting the stem from forces that could overload a solid stem, which cannot deal with such a load in a similar manner (because it is not hollow, to any degree). In oak, for instance, Pseudoinonotus dryadeus (the Eiffel Tower fungus) can actually be seen as a fungus that aids with tree stability, by prompting pronounced buttressing and the creation of wood that over-compensates for the more centralised decay (as was discussed by Frank Rinn later on), whilst also allowing for the oak to deal with wind loading more effectively, given the presence of the hollowing internal to the trunk.
Strong buttressing as caused by Pseudoinonotus dryadeus decay on oak. Does the internal hollowing even impact upon the tree’s structural stability, assuming the buttress roots laid down afford the necessary support? Thus, dooes pruning even have a beneficial impact upon reducing risk, when accepting that pruning damages the tree’s ability to photosynthesise and thus manufacture the sugars demanded for wood formation in these buttress zones?
Indeed, reaction growth comes in forms beyond buttressing – stems also flute; sometimes, quite majorly, in mature and veteran trees. This fluting can, in times of wind loading, afford the tree additional stability, through the over-compensated high wood quality, which allows the tree to deal with loading forces by acting akin to a coiled rope. Certainly, torsional loading against the direction of fluting is going to be a marked issue, though otherwise such fluting can be beneficial for stability – even when there are appreciable central hollows. In fact, this led on to another important point: the extent of hollowing and the resultant residual wall thickness (think Mattheck’s t/R or part of the Wessolly’s Statics Integrated Approach model) means very little, as it assesses a tree in blatant disregard for its wider context (exposure, lean, leaf area, wind drag coefficient, management history, the off-set nature of the hollow, etc). Without appreciating these factors, of which there are numerous, how can one state that hollowing is bad and will increase the risk of tree failure?
The talk by Ted then actually moved away from hollowing somewhat and onto other aspects of ancient trees. Specifically, the practice of pruning arose, wherein Ted commented that pruning back to the branch collar in older trees is potentially more destructive than leaving stubs – stubs that will afford epicormic growth and the formation of a new crown / part of the wider crown area. Interestingly, he used the example of beavers felling trees not at their base but a little up from the base, from which these trees oft repsrouted and formed natural coppice. The same, he suspected, could be the case for aerial pruning – leave a stub.
This consideration took Ted onto further points, of which the main one was that of where trees fail most routinely. Indeed, aroung 70% of all failures within a tree at at the branch level – of these, many fail not at the collar but out along the branch itself, thereby leaving a stub. Using examples of trees from Windsor and elsewhere that failed in such a way, he demonstrated that new but lower crowns were formed in the years after; even in cases where every single major limb failed on the tree, thereby creating a tree form like what can be seen in shredded trees.
An oak tree that lost almost all of its crown in the years after the 1987 storm. Only one limb actually remains (red square). The other limbs all failed (green arrows) and have since resprouted and formed a new crown. Should we be managing our older trees like this and, to extend this question, should we be managing all of our trees like this, if we are to mimic natural forms of failure?
Further to this, Ted got talking root failure in strong winds. In his experience, following the 1987 storm, some older trees began to decline either partially (in select area of the crown) or wholly in the years following, for no outward apparent reason. Ted’s suspicion is that, in place of aerial failure, structural roots failed and the connectivity to specific connected parts of the crown from these roots thus was severed, triggering localised dieback and retrenchment. Therefore, the question of whether localised root plate damage caused localised aerial dieback in older trees was asked and, assuming the answer was that this does occur, it could actually be beneficial for the longevity of the tree – it can retrench, form a lower crown and thus increase its safety factor. In fact, it would also suggest that the occurrence of fungi such as Meripilus giganteus on older trees, in certain instances, would be as a consequence of saprotrophism, in place or parasitism – the fungus follows the root damage and metabolises the severed roots. I then asked Ted whether he thought that the same phenomenon could occur in grazing ecosystems, in which cows, pigs, sheep or otherwise are grazed amongst wood pasture. His answer was one of grazing also being a cause of retrenchment, wherein grazing pressure damages certain structural roots and this leads to subsequent localised aerial retrenchment.
Can select root damage under wind-loading conditions bring about select crown retrenchment, through the connection of certain roots to certain portions of the crown? If so, can this damage, assuming not all roots are severed, improve the longevity of the tree and increase its stem’s safety factor, in spite of hollowing and major yet probably transient dieback?
Other questions raised within Ted’s talk were as follows: (1) are animal pharmaceuticals, often in the form of de-wormers, harmful to the mycorrhizal networks and the tree’s rhizosphere (i.e. soil biota), when they are excreted by the animal in the vicinity of the tree?, (2) is acid rain the most damaging impact upon our old trees, because of its impact upon the soil?, (3) are earthworms the most crucial soil organism for older trees, given their ability to aerate soil and to recycle nutrients by consuming absiced leaves (including those where over-winter pathogens reside, such as oak mildew), and (4) does stress throughout the tree’s life give it the best chance of reaching the veteran or ancient stage, when noting that slower growth and a more responsible management of energy is more sustainable? To these questions, we do need more research.
Take-away points from this talk are, therefore:
major hollowing of trees isn’t perhaps an inherently bad thing – notably in older trees,
we need to understand the species-specific and age-specific impacts of fungal decay upon trees before confidently exclaiming an increased and unallowable risk of failure,
a tree’s situation and history has a direct and marked impact upon the risk brought about by a hollow
damage to tree roots on older trees and the possible associated crown effects demands more investigations,
we need to determine how we should be pruning older trees, if we are concerned with their longevity, and
the rhizosphere’s importance for the health of older trees is a very viable area of research
I’ll write part II up in the coming times, which will focus on Lynne Boddy’s presentations. The third part will be Frank Rinn’s incredible afternoon talk.
Nothing much need be added, in light of who is narrating. As a 20-minute long film, it’s something you can readily watch at any point where you have some time going spare. There’s a few good segments on trees, including on ancient trees, deer, deadwood and wood-decay fungi. Really a fascinating watch!
I have been absurdly busy so haven’t been blessed with the time to get some blogging in, though I have been graced with thirty minutes of time this evening so without any further utterings we’ll delve right into the good stuff – trees and fungi (in my usual frenetic and incoherent manner). Plus, listening to some early Hawkwind has really got me in the mood to do something useful!
The cases are all from an absolutely splendid park down in Maidstone – Mote Park. Honestly, if you live anywhere near there, do pay it a visit and explore as much as you can (it’s massive!). The sheer abundance of mature and veteran trees provides for a magnificent display of fungi and, so I am told, there is a need to record the saproxylic insects on site on the many monoliths and moribund trees.
To kick this post off, I take you to a very interesting case of Pseudoinonotus dryadeus on oak – three of them, all of which are within 8-10m of one another and share a crown. All fruitings of the fungus are historic though its presence on all three trees makes for some tempting considerations – namely, the synchronicity of fruiting (are they similar genotypes?) and the means of colonisation (spore or something else?). Indeed, I can only infer some sort of fungal mysticism or sorcery in positing both aspects for consideration (there is no proof of either, per se), though it did make me think. Perhaps it will make you readers think as well! (!?)
The recipients of the Manchurian Candidate!Exhibit one!At the base (to the left).Quite an old bracket but a bracket nonetheless. Lovely buttressing, too.Exhibit two. More brackets and more buttressing.Shame these got yanked off, too.Exhibit three! SOme glorious buttressing here, yet again. Thus the fungus gets its common name: the Eiffel Tower fungus.Old, dead (not really but who cares for semantecs?) but not forgotten.
And then…and then…more Pseudoinonotus dryadeus – literally 100 yards down the same path. Oh how Mote Park delivers! This example also really does demonstrate the magnificent buttressing induced by its decay on oak, as you’ll see.
Would you then believe it? Essentially opposite (no joke) were two colossal beech trees fenced-off (as if that ever stopped me??!) that, as anyone who has seen mature or veteran beech buttressing all over the place like egg whites pour out of a broken egg when broken too aggressively (nice analogy? – likely not), drew me in. Was I disappointed? Not at all! Ganoderma australe and Meripilus giganteus all over the option.
Good cop (right) bad cop (left) – something something pun something something copper beech and tell better jokesThe copper beech to the right with roots all over the option.Ganoderma australe and Meripilus giganteus – dual decay. Decay squared? That raises a good thought – is decay by more than one fungus simply a cumulative issue or instead a geometric or even negatory issue (i.e. is decay of two types ‘less serious’ than from one only)? Question galore and no answer. Someone ask an expert!Merip (foreground) and Gano (background). Also plenty of blades of grass for the monocot enthusiasts who stumbled across this blog because I wrote the word monocot.Ganodeerma australe being illuminated by a sunburst.The diddy little brackets further up the stem weren’t blessed with sun.And between some more buttresses there were some more Ganodermas.Onto the plain old beech now. Exquisite buttressing here!Did someone say fungi?Nope – nothing to see here.Nor is there anything to see here. I’m just tired of writing captions!Oh look, finally. Something. Some nice husks. Probably some Ascomycetes on them (Xylaria carpophila).
To finish up, because I’m getting tired and I am up early tomorrow, here’s something to sit on whilst you ponder the plethora of ultimate questions spewed forth from my mind with little restraint – a dryad saddle. The host? Not sure – lots of ash about though one can never rule out sycamore (unless you’re in the middle of a Douglas fir plantation?). These had actually already over-matured, which means you can see dryad saddle (i.e Cerioporus squamosus – named, prior to that, Polyporus squamosus) out there if you look!
The arthropods are vast in terms of species, and include ants, beetles, butterflies, mites, moths, spiders, and so on. Therefore, covering the entire spectrum of arthropods in this section is impractical, though the general provisioning by trees will be outlined and species will be used to illustrate given examples.
Many arthropods are considered to be saproxylic in nature – they principally utilise dead woody material (both standing and fallen, in both dead and living trees) as habitat, for at least part of their life cycle, though they may also rely upon fungal sporophores associated with the presence of deadwood, as is to be detailed below (Gibb et al., 2006; Harding & Rose, 1986; Komonen et al., 2000). Of all the saproxylic arthropods, beetles are perhaps the most significant in terms of the proportion occupied of total saproxylic species worldwide (Müller et al., 2010), though saproxylic flies also feature in great numerical abundance (Falk, 2014; Harding & Rose, 1986).
Beetles may be either generalist or specialist in nature (on either broadleaved or coniferous hosts), and they will normally require a host with an abundance of deadwood (or large sections of coarse woody debris) usually over 7.5cm in diameter that resides within an area typically not heavily shaded (Müller et al., 2010; Siitonen & Ranius, 2015). This may be, in part, due to many beetle species (in their adult stage) requiring nectar from herbaceous plants, which would be lacking in woodland with significant canopy closure (Falk, 2014; Siitonen & Ranius, 2015). This means that veteran trees amongst wood pasture and parklands (including in urban areas) may be particularly suitable (Bergmeier & Roellig, 2014; Harding & Rose, 1986; Ramírez-Hernández et al., 2014; Jonsell, 2012; Jørgensen & Quelch, 2014), though this is not at all a steadfast rule as species may also be found abundantly in (perhaps more open) woodland, and particularly where there are large amounts of veteran trees and deadwood – around 60 cubic metres per hectare, according to Müller et al. (2010). Granted, they are found particularly in older (mature to veteran) trees, including within cavities that possess wood mould, water-filled rot holes, dead bark, exposed wood, sap flows, fruiting bodies (of fungi and slime moulds), mycelia of fungi, dead branches, and dead roots (Carpaneto et al., 2010; Falk, 2014; Harding & Rose, 1986; Siitonen & Ranius, 2015; Stokland et al., 2012). Beetle species may also not necessarily associate preferentially with a species (or group of species), but with the conditions aforementioned that are present within a tree (Harding & Rose, 1986; Jonsell, 2012). At times, preferable conditions may be an infrequent as one veteran tree in every hundred (Harding & Rose, 1986).
A veteran oak tree that is of prime habitat for a variety of organisms.
Despite this, species preference is observed. For broadleaved obligates, heavier shade may be more necessary, and in such instances there is a closer affinity of the beetles with fungal mycelium. Because fungi tend to produce more mycelium in cooler and more humid conditions (though this does, of course, vary with the species), the broadleaved obligates may therefore be found normally in greater abundance where conditions are more suited to fungal growth, and their presence may thus be associated with a canopy openness of as little as 20% (Bässler et al., 2010; Müller et al., 2010). This is, of course, not a steadfast rule, and many open wood pastures may support a great abundance of saproxylic beetles (Harding & Rose, 1986).
It is also important to recognise that many species of saproxylic beetle are reliant upon particular stages of the wood decay process. For instance, species that require fresh phloem tissue will only be able to colonise briefly in the first few summers following on from the death of the phloem tissue (Falk, 2014). Other species require significantly-decayed wood in a particular micro-climate, and even of a particular tree species (Harding & Rose, 1986). There also exist intricate associations between species of fungi and saproxylic insects. Inonotus hispidus, which is usually found upon ash, is the habitat for Triplax russica and Orchesia micans, whilst the coal fungus (Daldinia concentrica), also oft found upon the deadwood of ash (Fraxinus excelsior), is the main provider of habitat for Platyrhinus resinosus (Falk, 2014). The birch polypore (Fomitopsis betulina) is also host to numerous species of Coleoptera (Harding & Rose, 1986); as is the polypore Fomitopsis pinicola (Jonsson & Nordlander, 2006; Komonen, 2003; Komonen et al., 2000). This means that these species may be found where there is a suitable population of the fungus’ host species, where sporophores are present and will likely fruit again in the future, across numerous trees, and for many years. Most beetle species rely on oak more so than other tree species however, as oak generally lives for much longer and thus provides a wider array of different micro-habitats, and possesses increased compositional complexity as a result (Harding & Rose, 1986; Siitonen & Ranius, 2015).
A fruiting body of Inonotus hispidus on apple (Malus sp.). This fungus not only creates habitat in the wood that it degrades but also is a direct habitat through its sporophore.
Therefore, the loss of suitable habitat through active management programmes (including logging, and felling trees for safety reasons in urban areas) will have a very adverse impact upon saproxylic beetles, though also certain species of moth, and even species associated with saproxylic insects, including parasitic wasps, solitary wasps (which use beetle bore holes for habitat), and predatory Coleoptera (Harding & Rose, 1986; Komonen et al., 2000). Curiously, research by Carpaneto et al. (2010) concluded that trees that were ranked as the most evidently ‘hazardous’ were host to the most saproxylic beetle species, and their removal would therefore have a drastic impact upon local populations. Similarly, fragmentation of woodland patches suitable for saproxylic populations has led to a decline in the meta-populations (Grove, 2002; Komonen et al., 2000), as has deadwood removal in a managed site itself (Gibb et al., 2006). Interestingly, though not surprisingly, ‘deadwood fragmentation’ also has an adverse impact upon saproxylic insect populations (Schiegg, 2000).
Both ants and termites also benefit from the presence of deadwood. With regards to both, nests will usually form at the base of a tree or at an area where there is at least moderate decay – enough to support a viable population (Jones et al., 2003; Shigo, 1986; Stokland et al., 2012). Ants and termites both follow CODIT (compartmentalisation of damage in trees) patterns in relation to how their nests progress, and thus their territory will increase as fungal decay propagates further into the host. Ants will not feed on the decaying wood of the host however, and will simply use the decaying site as a nesting area. Conversely, termites will feast upon decayed wood and essentially control (perhaps by slowing down) the spread of fungal decay in a manner that provides as much longevity of the host as possible for a viable nesting site (Shigo, 1986). In tropical rainforests, termites are in fact considered to be one of the principal means of wood decomposition (Mori et al., 2014), and thus the provisioning of deadwood habitat is absolutely critical. Without decaying wood within trees therefore, ants and particularly termites will lack a potential habitat, and thus where a stand is actively managed populations may be markedly reduced (Donovan et al., 2007; Eggleton et al., 1995). Of course, termites are not necessarily to be desired when they are invading the wood structure of a property, and therefore deadwood is not universally beneficial (Esenther & Beal, 1979; Morales-Ramos & Rojas, 2001) – at least, when human properties are involved.
Ecologically beneficial? Yes. Economically beneficial? No. Termites can – and do – damage timber-frames buildings, as is the case here. Source: Pestec.
The presence of deadwood may also be beneficial for ground-nesting and leaf-litter dwelling spiders, which can utilise downed woody debris (particularly pieces with only slight decay) for both nesting and foraging (Varady-Szabo & Buddle, 2006). In fact, research by Buddle (2001) suggested that such spiders may more routinely utilise downed woody material when compared to elevated woody material (dead branches and telephone poles) because of the greater array of associated micro-habitats, and particularly at certain life stages – such as during egg-laying, for females (Koch et al., 2010). Furthermore, as fallen woody debris can help to retain leaf litter (or even facilitate in the build-up leaf litter), spider populations are more abundant and more diverse in sites where such woody debris is present (Castro & Wise, 2010). Therefore, where woodlands are managed and areas are clear-cut, spider populations may be markedly reduced in terms of the diversity of species. However, generalist species may benefit from the amount of cut stumps (Pearce et al., 2004). Curiously, Koch et al. (2010) suggest that spiders may perhaps benefit from woodland clearance, because the vigorous re-growth of trees and the higher light availability to the woodland floor (promoting herbaceous plant growth) increases the abundance of potential prey. Despite this, old-growth species will suffer (Buddle & Shorthouse, 2008), and thus the population structure of spider populations may dramatically change.
Soil mites are a further group that benefit from coarse woody debris, though also from hollows and holes throughout the basal region of a tree (including water-filled cavities), and from fungal sporophores and hyphae associated with wood decay (Fashing, 1998; Johnston & Crossley, 1993). Typically, termites will use fungi and insects found within the wood as a food source, and the wood structure itself will provide for an array of niche micro-habitats that are critical at different life stages of a mite. Certain mite species are obligates that associate with coarse woody debris exclusively, and may in fact only be associated with certain species’ woody debris. Additionally, mites may utilise woody debris and hollows within trees to parasitise upon other species using the ‘resource’, with both lizards and snakes being parasitised by mites following their frequenting of such resources. Beetles may also be parasitised, though the mite in such an instance may use the beetle as a means of entry into woody debris (Norton, 1980).
It is not just deadwood that arthropods will utilise, however. Foliage, both alive and abscised, is also of use (Falk, 2014). For example, the ermine moth (Yponomeutidae) will rely upon the living foliage of a host tree as a food source, and the bird cherry ermine moth (Yponomeuta evonymella) is one example of this. During late spring, larvae will fully defoliate their host Prunus padus, before pupating, emerging, and then laying eggs upon the shoots ready for the following year (Leather & Bland, 1999). Many other moth species will, during their larval stage, also behave in such a manner and thus defoliate their host – either entirely, or in part (Herrick & Gansner, 1987). Other species may alternatively have larvae mine into the leaf and feed upon the tissues within (Thalmann et al., 2003), such as horse chestnut leaf miner (Cameraria ohridella). Flies, including the holly leaf-miner (Phytomyza ilicis), will also mine leaves in a similar fashion (Owen, 1978). Ultimately however, the same purpose is served – the insect uses the living tissues of a leaf to complete its life cycle, and fuel further generations.
Bird cherry ermine moth having defoliated an entire tree. Source: Wikimedia.
Fallen leaf litter, as briefly touched upon earlier when discussing spiders, may also be of marked benefit to many arthropods. Ants, beetles, and spiders are but three examples of groups that will utilise leaf litter as a means of habitat (Apigian et al., 2006). Beetles will, for instance, rely upon leaf litter to attract potential prey, though also to provide niche micro-climates that remain relatively stable in terms of humidity, light availability, and temperature (Haila & Niemelä, 1999). Their abundance may, according to Molnár et al., (2001) be greatest at forest edges, perhaps because prey is most abundant at these edge sites (Magura, 2002). Of course, this does not mean that edges created through artificial means will necessarily improve beetle populations, as research has shown that there are few ‘edge specialists’ and therefore populations usually will go into decline where there has been significant disturbance. Unless management mimics natural mortality events of forest trees, then constituent beetle populations may thus suffer adversely (Niemelä et al., 2007).
With regards to ants, Belshaw & Bolton (1993) suggest that management practices may not necessarily impact upon ant populations, though if there is a decline in leaf litter cover then ants associated with leaf litter presence may go into – perhaps only temporary (until leaf litter accumulations once again reach desirable levels) – decline (Woodcock et al., 2011). For example, logging within a stand may reduce leaf litter abundance for some years (Vasconcelos et al., 2000), as may (to a much lesser extent) controlled burning (Apigian et al., 2006; Vasconcelos et al., 2009), though in time (up to 10 years) leaf litter may once again reach a depth suitable to support a wide variety of ant species. However, the conversion of forest stands into plantations may be one driver behind more permanently falling ant populations (Fayle et al., 2010), as may habitat fragmentation (Carvalho & Vasconcelos, 1999) – particularly when forest patches are fragmented by vast monoculture plantations of tree or crop (Brühl et al., 2003). The conversion of Iberian wood pastures to eucalyptus plantations is one real world example of such a practice (Bergmeier & Roellig, 2014).
Also of benefit to many arthropods are nectar and pollen. Bees, beetles, butterflies, and hoverflies will, for instance, use nectar from flowers as a food source (Dick et al., 2003; Kay et al., 1984), and generally (but not always) a nectar source will lack significant specificity in terms of the insect species attracted (Karban, 2015). Despite this, different chemicals secreted by different flowers, and the toxicity of certain nectar sources to particular insects, means certain tree species may only be visited by certain insect species (Adler, 2000; Rasmont et al., 2005). Tree diversity may therefore be key to sustaining healthy insect populations (Holl, 1995), and where species may prefer to frequent herbaceous plant species the presence of a diverse woodland canopy above may still be very influential (Kitahara et al., 2008). This may be because a diverse array of woody plant species increases the diversity of herbaceous species. At times, pollen may also be a reward, as may (more rarely) a flower’s scent. Karban (2015) remarks that all are collectively dubbed as ‘floral rewards’.
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A quick heads up that the Ancient Tree Forum summer conference at Epping Forest is now open for bookings at this link. At £50 for the two days it’s certainly worth it, and I can attest to the quality having gone last year to the one in Dorchester.
Expect more additions to this blog next week, though having been very busy lately I haven’t had a chance to get much uploaded!
Grazing rights on commons must be safeguarded, for these rights are an historical relic of an otherwise aggressively-advancing culture. Indeed, there are a wide range of benefits from grazing, including the ecological, socio-economic and cultural, though the New Forest – and probably many (or all!) other sites where grazing occurs under tree canopies – is also subject to the damage associated with unrestricted grazing.
Certainly, the number of horses within the New Forest, the unrestricted nature of their movement and the lack of safeguarding measures (and probably food) around veteran trees has resulted in some quite substantial (yet currently rather isolated and sporadic) damage to the beech trees. I would expect much of the damage comes during winter, when the horses are searching for food that is not in such great abundance, and luckily (or not!?) I managed to watch a few horses de-barking a fallen limb and the butt of one particular beech tree (whilst another horse was grazing upon the lower branches of holly), in addition to some recent examples of damage on other beech.
On the left, a horse is feastung upon some low-hanging Ilex aquifolium, whilst on the right a plucky horse tries its luck at beech bark.Here, we can also spy another horse stripping a fallen limb of bark, too.Notice more historic grazing wounds beneath the much fresher wound currently being created.Nearby, this particular beech yields far more significant damage. This damage might have even occurred earlier in the morning.The lack of any callus / woundwood growth proves how fresh the damage is.One can also appreciate the style of damage, causing by the teeth of the horses as they strip the bark.Some flies are themselves grazing upon the sugars of the phloem that is now exposed so extensively.In Bolderwood, this beech is accompanied by a sign, which educates members of the public about grazing damage – sort of.“Keep the ponies out!”, they ask. Whether tourists bother reading this I do not know, though perhaps it’s a new addition to the tree, which is actually in an area (Jubilee Wood) fenced-off from horses.Said with such a long face…
I was forunate to be able to spend some time in the New Forest yesterday, having driven back from Somerset after picking up a microscope (more on that, in due time). When last down there, which was during mid-summer, I spent a few hours sojourning around the Bolderwood / Knightwood Oak ornamental drive, with specific focus upon the myriad of mature and veteran beech pollards that dressed the roadside. One beech, even then, alluded to fungal parasitism, given its dire vigour and evident crown retrenchment (perhaps associated with ground compaction, given its close proximity to a car park and the Knightwood Oak). Therefore, I paid a visit to this beech, with the hope of finding some fungi – and I wasn’t disappointed!
I’ll actually be honest and say this beech is testament to the ability for the species to provide for many wood-decay fungal species. I really don’t think I have ever seen a tree more covered in fruiting bodies of many species than this one, and we’ll run through the suspected species below. First, we’ll look at the tree as a whole, however, and from the first image I don’t think there’s any debate over its poor condition. Granted, with the impending demise of a tree, weak fungal parasites and saprotrophs can enter, and this alludes to the cyclical aspect of energy transfer. In time, this beech will be the food for other plants and trees, though for now it’s fungal food.
I wonder how many more years this beech has before its snatched from the throes of life! Probably not many.The arrows relate to the various fungal species found. Working clockwise from the tip of the centre, I spotted what I suspect are Hohenbuehelia atrocoerulia, Chondrostereum purpureum, Mensularia nodulosa (confirmed), Exidia plana and Bjerkandera adusta.Here, behind a limb adorned brilliantly with one of the ex-Inonotus species, sit some fresh oysters (Hohenbuehelia atrocoerulea). Evidently, they are free from frost damage, suggesting they are probably only a few days old.There’s also a younger set emerging just behind this cluster in the foreground!Looking down the main stem, here we can observe how Chondrostereum purpureum and Mensularia nodulosa are inter-mingling. On the whole, it appears the Chondrostereum is more limited in its amassed substrate, if the presence of fruiting bodies are anything to go by – the ex-Inonotus species is abundant on the trunk and further up into some of the limbs.In this image we can identify how the two species really do run right up to their respective thresholds.For good measure, these are older sporophores of Chondrostereum purpureum. In their juvenile days, they’d have been far more attractive.Further round the trunk, we enter the sole territory of the Mensularia nodulosa.Angling upwards, the slotted nature of the tube layers becomes very evident.Down on one of the buttresses, this witches’ butter (Exidia plana) gets comfy amongst mosses. Note that it’s more likely to be this species of Exidia, as Exidia glandulosa is more often found on oak. To discern between the two however, you’d need to inspect some spores under the microscope.Looking more closely one can appreciate (I guess…?) why it’s called witches’ butter.And up on another limb, we have what is probably Bjerkandera adusta.It seems to be ejoying the decay column from the pruning wound and general dysfunction.There’s also some gilled sporophores in this one, which could potentially be Panellus stipticus, though they were too sparse and too small to see properly.
Yesterday, as part of our monthly aim of visiting sites across the south east of England, a half-dozen strong group of arboriculturalists made the journey to London’s Greenwich Park – myself included. Indeed, as much of the park consists of deciduous specimens (principally, avenues of Castanea sativa and Aesculus hippocastanum), the park was rather bare in the foliage sense, though such barren canopies did allow us to appreciate the true magnitude of – most notably – some of the veteran sweet chestnuts. The frost-clad ground and crystalline sky provided a similar beauty, and thus we shall begin with one of the most iconic vistas from Greenwich Park – the city skyline.
As we stood adjacent to the observatory, we could admire – amongst the furor of tourists and scout groups – the sightly perverse beauty of a city. I say perverse, as such artificial and polluted landscapes don’t tend to suit those who don’t consider themselves urbanites, which includes myself.
Of course, we didn’t go there for the view, so let’s get into the main bulk of this account – trees and fungi. There’s no real order to how the below series of images rank, so don’t consider this post a chronological reflection of our trip!
Perhaps the best place in which to start the core section of this post are the huge sweet chestnuts, though we must begin on a rather sombre note. With a species of Phytophthora suspected on site and some of the older individuals exhibiting stunted and chlorotic leaf growth, there is a valid concern for the future of these veterans which is – without doubt – highly concerning. During the winter months, fully appreciating this contemporary issue is difficult, though we did spot some foliage on the floor that was certainly smaller in size than would be typically expected. Alas, this situation should not impact adversely on our admiration of these trees, and should in fact raise attention and draw intrigue to those within the industry and beyond, with an eye to ensuring we continue to care for the current and future populations of veterans. Therefore, promoting the Ancient Tree Forum and their most recent publication on ancient and veteran tree management is critical. And now, for some fine shots of various veterans!
This veteran sweet chestnut was the first one to greet us as we entered the park from the southern end. Not a bad induction!As the city blocks paint the skyline to the right, we get a brilliant juxtaposition between the historic and the contemporary. In such a dynamic and ever-changing landscape such as London, this veteran sweet chestnut acts as a vestige of the old.From another angle, the same sweet chestnut as above’s form can be more greatly appreciated. The helical patterns of the wood fibres and bark are as if they have been wound like rope.This veteran has seen better days, though still stands proudly by the cafeteria. The ground beneath is woefully compacted, which must be having an impact upn the tree’s ability to function as a living being. Unlike the two shown above, it also doesn’t have a layer of mulch applied around its rooting environment.
Some of the veteran sweet chestnut we came across were also home to two annual common wood-decay fungi – Fistulina hepatica and Laetiporus sulphureus. Without doubt, the state of the fruiting bodies was not good, though when ravaged by time, wind, rain, frost and sun, to still even have a form is respectable! Certainly, a summer visit would have yielded a much greater haul of these two fungi on the sweet chestnuts, so a summer visit is probably on the cards.
One of Greenwich Park’s many veteran sweet chestnuts with an added extra – a small and rather weathered……you can see it……Fistulina hepatica! Picked off by parasitism before it reached a respectable stature, it still nonetheless produced a hymenium and thus likely produced spore.A second sweet chestnut, this time slightly smaller, but again with Fistulina hepatica.The state of it is, however, diabolical!A smaller and thus younger sweet chestnut, in this instance.It sports a fungal fruiting body, nonetheless!A chicken of the woods, which is beaten and bruised.Another smaller sweet chestnut, and another Laetiporus sulphureus.Note how it emerges from behind a bark-covered area.Again this sporophore is long beyond its best, though retains a little more dignity in the face of its impending crumble.
Away from the sweet chestnut, there was a variety of other large trees. Below, I share the ones that were home to fungi, through the identification of fruiting bodies. Absolutely, all trees on site are host to many species of fungi, though fruiting is not necessary in many instances, and it certainly costs the fungus energy to create and sustain. To begin, we’ll take a look at the ever-accomodating mature Robinia pseudoacacia in the park, which didn’t disappoint. In all, the population supported three species of wood-decay polypore, as we will see in the below images.
A very mature false acacia, with a very mature Laetiporus sulphureus fan on the main stem.Well, sort of a fan – the remains of!I imagine someone yanked this off, as it looks like a rather clean break.Very close by, a second false acacia cradles another Laetiporus sulphureus.Here, we can see how it’s at the base of the main stem, in place of higher up the structure.This second one is far worse for wear!A double-stemmed Robinia pseudoacacia, which was once at least triple-stemmed.At the base, a senescent Perenniporia fraxinea and a cluster of broken active sporophores can be seen.For good measure,here’s a better look at the entire bunch.It’s a little disappointing that the fruiting bodies have been damaged, though that doesn’t stop them being Perenniporia fraxinea!And a second example of Perenniporia fraxinea on this false acacia, too.Right at the base, to the left.This one appears slightly different to how it’d usually look (it’s not photogenic!).Regardless, a showing of the trama reveals it as Perenniporia fraxinea.It looks like the park managers are aware of the decay on this Robinia, as it has already been pruned!If you look between the buttresses and into the basal cavity, you can spot a single Ganoderma australe. More were on the other side of the tree, though were old and worn.With the sun behind the camera, this southern bracket looks rather pretty.
Steering attention away from false acacias, I now turn towards a focus on the brown-rotting polypore Rigidoporus ulmarius. With both horse chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum) and beech (Fagus sylvatica) on the site, the chances are that there would have been a few examples of this fungus. Indeed, there were, as we will observe.
This first example, on horse chestnut, is an interesting one.It’s the return of the cavity-dwelling Rigidoporus!Away from the wrath of the elements, this sporophore doesn’t have the algal green stain atop and bathes in its own substrate.A cutting identifies this specimen as Rigidoporus ulmarius, with the cinnamon tube layer and brilliantly white flesh.The second horse chestnut sits in line for the toilets, patiently waiting for soneone to give it the 20p needed to get beyond the toll gate.If you want, you can even sit down to inspect this tree!This might well be this sporophore’s first season. I wonder how many more years it will see before it gets knocked-off or is aborted.Half way up this steep hill, a beech stands seemingly without significant issue.Oh, wait – here’s the issue!Is that a shade of green?From this shot, it looks most probably like Rigidoporus ulmarius. If so, we have two examples in one site of its cavity-dwelling abilities!
Greenwich Park also has a good number of large plane trees (Platanus x hispanica). The most abundant fungus on these trees was massaria (Splanchnonema platani), and there probably wasn’t a plane in the park that didn’t show at least some signs of its presence. However, it was the large plane with Inonotus hispidus that gained much of my eager attention, given I am not often around mature planes with extensive fungal decay.
A rather lofty plane tree.As the crown breaks, we can spot a single Inonotus hispidus sporophore.Whether there is an old wound at or around this site is hard to say, though for this fungus to be able to colonise one would expect so.Perhaps an old branch stub above the fruiting body?
To round this post off, which has admittedly taken a long time to write, I’ll share some lovely images of a not-so-lovely bird – the parakeet (Psittacula krameri). Plaguing many of London’s parks and beyond, these things produce an utter cacophony and are certainly invasive, though one must admit that they are incredibly photogenic. Below, I share a few examples of where the parakeets were using cavities for shelter.
A horse chestnut monolith, seemingly vacant.Wrong! Enter the parakeet(s).This one stands proudly atop a pruning cut.Along a plane tree branch, this parakeet appears to be guarding its abode.“Oi m8, w0t u lookin’ @???”
Last weekend I explored Wrest Park with a small group of other individuals, and we certainly saw plenty of interesting sights! For those curious, it is just north of Luton adjacent to a lovely old village called Silsoe, and for those arriving early you can even hear the bells of the nearby church ringing for Sunday morning service and explore the village to look at all the listed buildings.
However, as this blog is about trees, we shall keep it on all things tree-reated, and without further ado I’ll get into some of the features of this park that we passed by…
First of all, we came across this absolutely wonderful Wisteria sp. on the wall of the gardens. Without a shadow of a doubt, it is one of the largest examples I have seen, outside of the one at Kew Gardens. When trained well or given space to thrive, wisterias really do add a degree of formality and regality to a place, and one could hardly argue that the wall would have anywhere near as much character if this wisteria was absent!
Here we can see how the wisteria envelops at least a segment of the much larger wall.And a great look at the stem morphology. The fluted appearance also gives this wisteria an old feel, which is probably because of its likely good age!
Just around the corner from this fine wisteria was a very sizeable cedar (Cedrus sp.). I recall it as probably being a cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani), though we’ll run with a species of cedar when noting my inability to remember specifics! I might add that this was a sizeable cedar, actually – it is now less so, but is certainly still a very impressive specimen. What is interesting about this cedar was the cavity three quarters of the way up what was left of the main stem, which sported some now rather senescent sporophores of the dyer’s mazegill (Phaeolus schweinitzii). The common name for this fungus comes from the fact that the fruiting bodies were used to make purple dye (a phenomenon not restricted to this fungus, as a very many fungi are used for dyes). Always be sure to check stem cavities for this fungus on conifers, and notably old cedars and pines, as they can yield some great fungal treasures!
Wider than it is tall. I know they say that cedars flatten-out atop in maturity, though this one takes it a little too far!Of course, this cedar was a lot larger, though unfortunately lost its top – probably during high winds.But that isn’t a problem – the cedar still lives. And other things live within it, too – such as this dyer’s mazegill.A closer inspection with the camera reveals a small tier of fruiting bodies, and given the deep fissure they are emanating from it is certainly an historic wound and not a recent one.
Further around the gardens, we came across a huge copper beech (Fagus sylvatia ‘Atropurpurea’). As well as a discernible graft line that has begun to bulge, we can spot some highly distinct stretch marks on the bark. Evidently, the more recent annual increments have been quite marked in cross-sectional area, and the bark has therefore split to reveal a fresher bark layer beeneath. As we know, beech usually has a gloriously smooth bark, though in some instances that smooth bark is lost to a much rougher one. Is this a problem? Almost certainly not. It might however be associated with the graft point, if there are additional mechanical stressors acting on the area.
Here’s the copper beech, in all of its bare glory.The trunk not only adopts a very stretched appearance but also has a pronounced bulge around the graft union.A closer look just to appreciate the degree of bark stretching. Perhaps a visit to Boots would help this beech tree reduce the prevalence of the stretching!
As luck would have it, we then saw a lot of fungi. First came this horse chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum) stump, which had on it not only Bjerkandera adusta, Chondrostereum purpureum and Flamullina velutipes, but many Mycena sp. on roots surrounding the stump. All, in this case, are saprotrophic fungi, meaning that they feast upon the abundance of dead wood, though in the case of Chondrostereum purpureum the mycelium will parasitise upon the mycelium of other fungi (a bit like how Trametes gibbosa will attack Bjerkandera adusta).
A quite massive horse chestnut stump. In death, it still provides life for many species of fungi, as we can see…Some very fresh and guttating Chondrostereum purpureum. This species is very common on cut ends of fallen logs and stumps during autumn, and is able to parasitise upon other fungi. Thus, it is a fungus that is a secondary resource capturer, as it follows other fungi that came in before.More Chondrostereum purpureum alongside some rather old Flamullina velutipes.And a select few of the bonnets (Mycena sp.) surrounding the stump, which are very likely saprotrophs of dead roots.
Our walk then took us through the woodland garden, where Inonotus hispidus reigned supreme on some of the ash (Fraxinus excelsior). This woodland garden was rather peculiar, in the sense it was utterly laden with laurel (Prunus laurocerasus and Prunus lusitanica), huge yew (Taxus baccata), oaks (Quercus robur) with wonderfully straight boles, limes (Tilia x europaea) completely ravaged by mistletoe (Viscum album), and other tree species (such as ash, as was noted above). The growing amount of deadwood is certainly valuable for any invertebrates, fungi and bacteria, though the laurel does certainly require some management as it currently dominates the understorey.
Obviously, as it is now late autumn, the leaves are off of the ash and the shaggy brackets are blackened (by-and-large). Here, we can spot one just before the stem break.Conveniently positioned beneath an old branch abscission point. Note the spindle-shape surrounding the old branch stub, which is the optimal way of ensuring there are no huge stress pockets in the area.This second ash is a little more sheltered but still doesn’t escape the ravenous hunger of Inonotus hispidus.Again, we can see it is associated with a wound. In this instance, the wound is a little larger in longitudinal extent. The area also sags slightly just beneath, indicating the white rot present (and thus delignification of wood) that is being caused by the mycelium of this fungus.
Also within this woodland, we came across a large oak that had lost its top during last winter. The debris now dressed the ground beneath, and it was not very surprising to see Bulgaria inquinans present on the fallen wood. This fungus is present as a latent organism within the vascular system of the oak, and upon death of a branch it quickly colonises (often quite brilliantly and over vast swathes of wood) to make use of the carbon readily available. In this example, the colonisation wasn’t so glorious, because the wood had been cut into smaller segments, though if left in tact the fungus would have produced black jelly discs across the entire upper stem.
A victim of the wind, though still alive. This loss of the upper stem might in fact allow the oak to live for a longer period of time, as it significantly reduces the risk of entire failure by the wind.Some discs of Bulgaria inquinans, all of which are maturing or already mature.Other equally mature examples on another piece of fallen wood. Absolutely abundant, as is to be expected.
After exiting this woodland garden, we were allowed access to a part of the site closed off to the public. Not only is this good because the area is often not trampled down, but what you can find in there away from the haunts of man is often a great treat, and we were not let down on this front, as you will see by the below images! However, before entering the gate, we stopped a beech (Fagus sylvatica) that had a great example of Perenniporia fraxinea at its base.
I suppose you could say it’s the guardian of the gate. It didn’t do a very good job though, as we had a key and the beech can’t actually move.Here’s the sporophore, tucked away between two buttresses and covered by bramble a little.Pay attention to the white spore beneath, which differentiates it from the slightly similar Ganoderma australe.The brown context is another identifying feature of this fungus.
We then saw this fungus again, immediately upon entering the gated area. However, this time, it was on a host I had never seen it on before – hornbeam (Carpinus betulus)! And a great example it was, too.
A rather contorted but very large hornbeam, with bark that one could almost describe as black locust-like.Around the butt were many sporophores of Perenniporia fraxinea, but this was by far the best one.Now here’s a postcard picture! Who wants to see a picture of a beach with palm trees when you can see this…!?And again a shot of the context.
Walking down alongside the lake we then came across a fallen weeping willow (probably Salix x sepulcralis ‘Chrysocoma’) that, upon its stem, was dressed with sporophores of the blushing bracket Daedaleopsis confragosa. This is rather common dead parts of willows (including Salix caprea), though generally the brackets are a little smaller and less sublime. However, in this instance, they provide us with a great example of how it looks.
Willows doing what they do best – break!…and then providing great habitat for wood-decay fungi.This dead section of the stem is covered by over a dozen Daedaleopsis confragosa fruiting bodies.And when we look closer we can spot the brilliantly-textured upper surface. The pores below are between gills and pores, being quite elongated in nature.
So not to bore you all with fungi, I shall share one last example of Laetiporus sulphureus ssp. on yew (Taxus baccata). If you look around old yews you will often see chicken of the woods, though make sure never to eat it as it won’t do you any good and could end up with a visit to the hospital!
If yew look closely……you can almost see the tree weep at such a vile pun.This Laetiporus sulphureus ssp. even had a cherry on top. But don’t eat it……because it’s blue and mouldy. And poisonous to some!
And now that I’m blue in the face from blaring out so many horrific puns, here’s a few images that will lighten up your day – lightning damage on oak!
Here we can see an old lightning wound that spans the entire length of the stem. Note the old ribbing to both sides and the central shallow fissure where the bolt probably tracked.Another oak close by shows a similar style of wound, though less extensive in circumferential damage. Both oaks have survived, and long-term this damage might create some interesting habitat!
Well that is everything. I do suggest this site to those who are nearby, or want to make a trip at a weekend to explore a formal park. It is worth it, though please try to look beyond the huge yews that were topped to try and recreate a hedge! It isn’t easy, but I suppose the dead stumps make for some curious landscape features…
Yesterday, the Ancient Tree Forum went to Wimpole, which is a 2,000+ acre estate owned by the National Trust, just south west of Cambridge, UK. Led by the head forester of the site, the day took us around a great portion of the estate, where we were shown not only old trees and their importance for saproxylic invertebrates (including many rare coleoptera and diptera), but also an ash woodland with coppice regeneration being battered by ash dieback (Hymenoscyphus fraxineus) and some woodland-borne elms enduring the devastating Dutch elm disease (Ophiostoma novo-ulmi).
Whilst the day itself began mid-morning, I – as usual – arrived very early, in order to explore. My aim was, principally, to find fungi, and I was certainly not let down in this regard, as you will see in the collection of images at the end of this post! More broadly, walking through the fields being grazed by both cattle and sheep, complete with many mature, veteran, moribund, and dead trees, in which some were evidently grazed around and others not, was a real treat. Such landscapes possess character orders of magnitude greater than standard park landscapes, which are basically lacking the grazing aspect that is culturally very important in the UK. Granted, not all parks can facilitate grazing, as people do lust for their formal parks, and letting grazing ungulates into specimen gardens is a great way to ruin the specimens (it’d be quite bizarre to see cattle roam across Kew Gardens), but those formalised gardens still lack the romantic feel of a proper English park.
During the guided tour itself, catching up with friends and acquaintances, listening to individuals contribute to matters regarding the management of Wimpole, and being around renowned experts in arboriculture, such as David Lonsdale, always means there’s things to talk about and much to learn. The intricacies of fungal associations with specific host trees, the destructive power of oak mildews, and the grazing of animals treated with veterinary medicines in the rhizosphere of mature and veteran trees, are not issues people would typically entertain, though in the setting of Wimpole all such discussions were completely contextual and highly valuable. The option of pollarding trees to manage for overhead power lines in the rural landscape might also make for interesting conversations in 400 years time, assuming the trees are still around and pollarded regularly. A far cry from why man traditionally pollarded trees, no doubt!
For those of you who are UK readers, please do check out the Ancient Tree Forum, and see if there’s a group local to you. For those not in the UK, perhaps there are similar organisations, and if not then perhaps even start one!
And now, for the myriad of photos (mainly of fungi on trees – who’d have guessed)…
A view of the house at Wimpole, which overlooks an impossibly long undulation of hills lined, either side, with trees. Visit yourself for a view of the avenue!A view into the grazed hills of the Wimpole estate, complete with dozens of mature and veteran trees – oaks, horse chestnuts, walnuts, limes, sycamores…Two lovely mature oaks (Quercus robur). The one on the right is at least 400 years of age, according to map records.Before we get onto fungi, here is the Devil Squirrel high up in a yew tree.
I have segmented the below pictures into different sections, each with a title stating the fungus and the host.
Perenniporia fraxinea on Quercus robur
At the edge of a field, near to the main car park, sat this mature oak.Hurdling fences is good exercise.Tucked away snugly between two buttress roots!Churning out white spore galore!A little cross-section reveals a trama that is a light brown colour, and a tube layer a darker shade of brown. 50 shades of brown, perhaps? Just a little less exciting, for most…A close view of the context, for those keen to see what Perenniporia fraxinea looks like inside.
Pseudoinonotus dryadeus on Quercus robur
A wonderfully broad oak, which recently shed a huge limb.The shed limb can be seen to the left, though we can also spot the Speudoinonotus dryadeus lagain between buttresses.Certainly a mature bracket, this will likely begin to senesce soon.A look from another angle, just so we can appreciate how awesome this fungus looks!
Cerioporus squamosus (syn: Polyporus squamosus) on Aesculus hippocastanum
On this small knoll, are a few horse chestnuts. The one on the left is the one we need to pay attention to, because……it is host to dryad saddle!Growing out from a branch wound, which may well have been the entry point for the spores in the past, too. The choice of emerging from wood not covered by bark is important, as not only may the fungus not be able to degrade the highly-suberised bark, but even if it could, producing fruiting bodies in areas lacking bark is far more energy-efficient.Looking more closely, we can see how the stipes support the fruitiing bodies.
Rigidoporus ulmarius on Aesculus hippocastanum
A grand horse chestnut stands proudly in this formal area.And boasts an equally grand Rigidoporus ulmarius!Notice the white spore and colourations that liken it slightly to Perenniporia fraxinea. However, the context is different, as we will see……with Rigidoporus ulmarius, the trama is almost pure white and the tube layer a cinnamon-orange colour.Here’s another small one on the same tree.And another one, for effect!
Inonotus hispidus on Juglans regia
Exhibit 1 – a modestly-aged walnut.Exhibiting a modestly-decimated Inonotus hispidus……okay, maybe massively decimated – and old!And a second one, further up the stem!Peeking out from between cracks in the corky bark.Exhibit 2 – another walnut, of probably identical age.Almost deja-vu, here…!Looking up into the heavens.When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back…
Inonotus cuticularis on Fagus sylvatica
Such a beautiful beech tree. Surely it couldn’t be tarnished by wood-decay fungi!?It did a good job hiding it, but we found it!Say hello to the internet, Inonotus cuticularis!Somehow I managed to get this photo with my brick of a spare camera. A curious arrangement of decked and small sporophores.A close-up shot of some chocolate gateau, for good measure. Extra chocolate sauce.A cutting someone managed to grab!
Arboriculture 