Nurturing nature: Trees give scale to human life. They're also a measure of how well we're protecting the world around us. (Communities).

It was a hot July day in 1862. A tall, drawn man and his small son strolled toward the huge copper beech next to the cottage where the family spent summer weekends escaping the heat and humidity of downtown Washington, DC.

Deborah Gangloff

The tree was at least 135 years old then and its cool shade was welcome relief. The boy could play beneath the spreading branches while the father, Abraham Lincoln, sought respite from the daily pressures of being President of the United States in what was arguably the most difficult periods in American history.

That copper beech, which succumbed to old age earlier this year, stood sentry at what is now the U.S. Soldiers and Airmen's home in northwest Washington for 275 years. Although the main stem is dead, the tree lives on. A copper beech growing in an open area, like the yard of Lincoln's retreat, develops branches that can touch the ground and take root. Those branches have grown into a circle of trees, like a fortress wall surrounding the place where Lincoln and his son Tad rested against the massive trunk.

News of the copper beech's demise made the obituaries page in the Washington Post, reminding us why we remain so fascinated with trees, especially big ones. Trees give scale to human life, enduring through generations. And they help us connect with history. Imagine sitting in the same spot where Lincoln sat, or touching a tree grown from seed brought hack from the wild, wild West by explorers Lewis and Clark.

We can learn a lot from big trees, which is why AMERICAN FORESTS created the National Register of Big Trees in 1940. At 275 years of age, Lincoln's copper beech was youthful compared to many trees in the Register. Redwoods can live 10 times that long, and bristlecone pines can be more than 4,500 years old.

Age and size vary greatly in the national Register, depending on species and location. But not all national champions are old or healthy; they're just the largest known of their species. For example, foresters long believed the Louis Vieux American elm, which stood on the Vermilion River in Kansas, was centuries old. Imagine their surprise when they learned it was less than 125 years old. Big trees can hold secrets about their past, but they can also tell us a lot about ourselves and the environment.

LEARNING FROM BIG TREES

In addition to being a treat for the eyes, big trees are a storehouse of information about the land, conservation practices, our history, and the environment. In the case of the Lincoln copper beech, experts believe the main tree died from changes in local land conditions. Drought conditions in the year 2000 forced the tree to finally succumb, but those conditions had been exacerbated by increased urbanization.

Trees are a product of the land, and their size and health reflect the health of that land. Trees grow big when they have good soil around their roots and the air, space, water, and sunlight they need to grow. Big trees are also environmental indicators that give AMERICAN FORESTS a powerful tool to communicate good conservation practices.

AMERICAN FORESTS, the country's oldest conservation organization, launched the Big Trees program in response to forester Joseph Stearns' concern that the nation's largest trees would fall to the lumberman's ax, costing us an important part of our American legacy. The pressures on the forests were great in 1940, especially with another world war looming.

AMERICAN FORESTS was 65 then and accepted Stearns' challenge to "protect and preserve these grand old giants." Why? Not just because it's fun to look in the woods for champions or because we needed a tree version of "Ripley's Believe It or Not." Championing big trees was--and still is--a great way to interest people in land-conservation issues.

Big trees symbolize long life, permanency, loyalty, growth, prosperity--and survival. The giants of the plant world, trees are the largest and oldest living things on earth. As such they are indicators of the ecological quality of the land on which they grow. If the land is healthy, the trees are healthy. And healthy trees can grow to their full potential. Trees are good indicators of the health of an ecosystem because their growth represents the health of the site.

When a survey AMERICAN FORESTS conducted in the 1980s revealed that the average urban street tree lives only seven to 10 years in a downtown setting, we decided to find out what limits tree growth and survival. The two major factors turned out to be soil volume and soil quality. More, better soil makes larger, healthier trees. Cities that make their street tree spaces larger and provide nutrient-rich soil have larger, healthier trees.

Our same survey showed that trees in residential areas, where the soil is healthier and more plentiful, have an average life span over 40 years. In parks or other areas where city foresters have created optimal planting conditions by working with public works and transportation departments, urban trees can reach 60 years of age and above.

Many of our national and state champions are found in cities and towns, although few, if any, are street trees. Our urban champs thrive in cemeteries, parks, and backyards where they have the space to grow both above and below ground, have less competition for nutrients and sunlight than they would have in a forest setting, and receive individualized tree care.

No doubt that's the reason the National Champion White Ash has long added a touch of class and history to a Palisades, New York, restaurant. Standing guard along the eatery's driveway, this champ contains enough wood for a team's--or maybe a league's--worth of baseball bats!

Some champs grow on state capital grounds or in arboretums. The co-champ spicebush flourishes in the Western North Carolina Arboretum in Asheville, while the national co-champion Washington hawthorn measures in at 105 points of reverent splendor at the Chattanooga National Cemetery. And there are some that have history in their roots, like the champion black-mangrove at the Key State Archaeological Site, near Estero, Florida.

Trees also get to "be all that they can be" in state and federal parks and forests. Besides the General Sherman Giant Sequoia in Sequoia National Park, California, or the Wye Oak white oak, which is its own state park in tiny Wye Mills, Maryland, there are many champs that are admired by the public and cared for by government employees. These trees have another advantage: Competition from other trees is discouraged, which means more sunlight, soil, and nutrients for the champ. Look at the 25 species with the highest total points and you'll see that 18 of the 30 champs and co-champs are on public lands.

That ratio of public to private holds true pretty much throughout the Register. From the Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge in Florida, where the red mangrove presides, to Olympic National Park in Washington, home of the Pacific silver fir, our public lands are a great place to grow up if you want to be a champ.

And trees that grow up to be big do more for the environment. Larger trees have more extensive canopies, which means they are able to sequester and offset more carbon dioxide. More leaf surface means more air pollutants trapped and washed down to the soil. More water can be recycled, more oxygen put into the atmosphere, and more habitat provided for wildlife.

The amount of leaf area provided by trees has become a major environmental concern in cities. AMERICAN FORESTS' studies show most naturally forested metropolitan areas have lost 30 percent of their tree cover in the last 25 years.

At the same time, impervious surfaces--sidewalks, buildings, parking lots--have increased by 20 percent. The competition for space is underway in every city, and city decisionmakers know the value of streets and buildings. By measuring and calculating the value of the work trees do to clean our air and water, we can prove trees' worth against the likes of asphalt and concrete.

RELATED ARTICLE: WHAT MAKES A TREE GROW BIG?

JOHN BALL, PROFESSOR, SOUTH DAKOTA STATE UNIV.

When it comes to a tree champion, size does matter. A champion is not necessarily picturesque, historic, or even old--it's just the biggest.

And what makes a tree big? At the species level, it's fate. A redbud can never be as large as a redwood. Due to differences in growth habit, trade-offs between defense and growth and longevity, few species are destined to be the "alpha" trees of the forest.

Within a species, what is it that makes one red maple or hackberry so much larger than the rest? If we clone them, will the offspring grow as big? Can we create a nation of champions? Not likely. Trees--like people--are a product of more than their genes. It is the environment, rather than genetics, that molds trees. Many of the trees in AMERICAN FORESTS' National Register of Big Trees grow in the open, rather than deep in a dense forest.

A tree growing in the open develops in much different ways than its forest cousin; this is particularly true of deciduous trees. Trees growing alone don't need to direct their growth to win the "race to the sun"; they have no fear of being overtopped and crowded out. Instead, they allocate more growth into expanding the spread of their canopy. Since they are subjected to stronger winds, they develop a more tapered trunk that gives them a larger diameter than a forest tree of equal height.

In forests across the country there grows many a tree that could be a champion if given the opportunity to spread out. While it is exciting to find the biggest ones--the champions of their species--don't forget that all trees give us oxygen to breathe, shade our homes, and provide the materials to build those homes, all in return for a little care. I'd say that that makes every tree a champion.

ROGER FUNK, THE DAVEY TREE EXPERT COMPANY

The discussion in human sciences regarding the contribution of "Nature" versus "Nurture" in an individual's growth and development is also appropriate for tree sciences. Nature (genetics) determines the potential of an individual tree, and Nurture (the conditions under which it is growing) determines the expression of this potential. Almost everyone is aware of the importance of the hardiness zone and climatic conditions in the adaptation and growth of trees.

For example, sequoias, with the genetic potential to grow to heights in excess of 300 feet in the climate of the coastal Pacific, would not do so in other parts of the country.

Less obvious is the impact of soils and other micro-environmental factors such as shade, competition, and the availability of nutrients and water. Because these factors can vary significantly over relatively short distances, individual tree performance can also vary, regardless of genetic potential.

A tree growing in an open, otherwise treeless, front lawn would not necessarily develop the same growth characteristics, height, circumference, and canopy spread as if it had been planted 20 feet away in the "devil strip," the grassy tree lawn between a sidewalk and the road.

In fact, many plant scientists, in recognition of the importance of soil and environmental conditions in the growth of trees, discuss tree performance in the holistic context of a Soil, Plant, Air Continuum.

JAY STIPES, PROFESSOR, VIRGINIA TECH

It is an old quandary: Is it "nature" or "nurture" or, rather, is it the inheritance or the environment? It's a question that will never be resolved. As a biologist, I'm generally a stronger believer in DNA than in environment, but of course this must be tempered by the species of biota under consideration. I believe it was Lysenko who said that, given enough time, he could have citrus growing in Moscow. Well, I don't think he ever could. It could take millennia to select out one tree that could grow there, and so Lysenko was safe in making such a ludicrous statement.

We must remember that we have this little phenomenon called "provenance," which dictates that the source of a tree seed determines whether it fares well in a certain geographic or climatic situation. For example, a sugar maple from Florida seed would not fare well in Maine because of the selection phenomena.

We first start with genes or, as we say these days, DNA. (I tell my students that, if they wish to grow old, they should pick their parents carefully!) Inheritance in trees has much to do with longevity and size. Nutrition has much to do with both growth rate and ultimate tree size. Going back to humans, we strongly suspect that bed sizes in olden times were shorter because people were shorter then, probably a result of substandard nutrition.

Siting is a strong factor in both tree size and longevity. Trees on good growing sites will grow faster and bigger than their counterparts on high-stress sites.

We have pin oak growing in the Price Hall Parking Plaza where I've come to work for the past 35 years. Only one pin oak is left; all the others have died. The one pin oak that remains is a dwarf compared to its possible counterpart growing by Strouble's Creek in good lush, undisturbed soil.

On the flip side, the bristlecone pines growing at 10,000 feet altitude in the White Mountains of California have a growing period of only about 45 days. And they're growing on almost pure limestone! One is 4,917 years old; could they be considered well adapted to their environment?

I know I have been unable to get a bristlecone pine to grow in Blacksburg, Virginia!

Water is probably the greatest limiting factor to life on earth. Adequate moisture is a requirement for life itself, not to mention longevity and size. While genetics are important, a tree needs good nutrition, good soil, and adequate water to become a champion.

Deborah Gangloff is AMERICAN FORESTS' executive director. Gary Moll is one of its vice presidents.