The speaker in our master naturalist class was irate. Her tone was sharp with her voice rising in anger.
"Those blasted Bradford Pears! If I had a chain saw, I'd fire it up and cut down every one in the entire state."
She
passed around for our inspection a black thorny branch she had taken
from one of the offending trees and described the dense thickets she had seen in her area. She viewed these pear trees as thorny monstrosities that shaded out and
choked out all plant life below them; trees that nurtured no beneficial
insects and whose non-nutritious fruit could be eaten by birds whose
droppings would spread the evil spawn for miles
around.
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| Honeylocust |
My fellow Nits (naturalists in training) oohed and aahed over
the prickly branch, but when it got to me, I was unimpressed. My
reaction was in part moderated because we have on our property (and
treasure!) a honeylocust tree that is the most dangerously thorny thing I
have ever seen. The callery pear trees reviled by our speaker have
smooth trunks and relatively thornless branches, but the honeylocust is
better armed than a porcupine. The thorns on its trunk and branches form
3-dimensional clusters so that no matter how they fall to the ground
some thorns will be facing up. Unlike the callery pear, the honeylocust
frequently sheds dead branches and clusters of well-concealed thorns.
Thus, walking beneath a honeylocust tree (or even parking a car beneath
one) is a bit like wandering into a minefield. I have shoved honeylocust
thorns right through the soles of my tennis shoes on many occasions. I
once incautiously knelt down to observe a pretty wildflower and drove a
honeylocust thorn right into my shinbone--a memory that can still
bring tears to my eyes. That puncture wound swelled up like a golf
ball, and even after healing remained a palpable knot beneath the skin for several years.
I love a good honeylocust tree for its incredible ferocity; it is a
savage tiger of a tree. By comparison, the callery pear is a sweet
little kitten. And the Bradford pear (a special cultivar) is even more
tame, being entirely thornless and usually infertile.
Indeed I quite
like Bradford pear trees. One reason for this is that I have long
experience with them. I planted two tiny Bradford pear saplings by my
pond more than twenty years ago (long before assertions about their
invasive nature began to be promulgated). Those two saplings have grown
into handsome trees. Each spring they are the first trees to burst into
bloom and each fall their colors are the most beautiful and the most
long-lasting. The authorities certainly do label the trees as nonnative
and invasive, but religion relies on reference to authority. Science
relies on observation and experimentation. In the remainder of this
article I will consider the charges against the tree and share my
observations.
1. Bradford pears are nonnative. This is true. But all
pear trees in America are nonnative, having been brought by European
settlers in the 17th and 18th centuries.
2. The Bradford pear is a
cultivar of the thorny callery pear. This is true, too. But it is
important to note that Bradford pears have been bred to be thornless and
infertile and that most fruit pears are grafted onto callery pear
rootstock. Fruit pears are much more susceptible to fire blight than
Bradford pears, and when the graft dies, the rootstock usually
flourishes and grows up into a callery pear. Thus, one should not assume
that the thorny pears one sees are the result of unintended propagation
from ornamental Bradford pears. Fruit pears are the more likely
culprits.
3. Birds will eat the fruit of Bradford pear trees and can
therefore spread the seeds through their droppings for miles. This is
true, but so what? That birds are nourished by the fruits of the
Bradford pear is a very good thing. Their droppings contain these seeds
as is the case with any other fruit that nourishes birds. Normally those
seeds are infertile, but it is said that cross pollination of different
callery cultivars can produce fertile seeds. Later in the year I will
try to test this hypothesis with the seeds from my own trees.
4.
Bradford pear trees are invasive. This is certainly untrue of the
Bradford pear cultivar, but it is possible that fertile callery pear
trees can form dense invasive thickets. There is testimony to support
that. But a plant that is invasive in one region is often not invasive
in another. Since pear trees bloom and leaf out so early in the spring
(and retain colorful leaves so late in the fall), this something that
one can easily test by observation. I have been driving all over Baxter
County, Arkansas, this spring and I have been on the lookout for problem
areas. Nowhere have I seen invasive thickets of Bradford or callery
pear trees. There is an abandoned amusement park that has an abundance
of wild pear trees, but it is not so dense as to be a thicket, nor is it
a monoculture. I hypothesize that the thin, rocky soils of the Ozarks
are not so hospitable to these trees as richer soils.
5. These
nonnative species do not support insects and birds. This is completely
false. Because they are the first trees to blossom in the spring, our
Bradford pear trees absolutely hum with the buzzing of honeybees and
pollinators of all kinds. At dusk the moths flutter in clouds seeking
the nectar. We own four acres of land, nearly all of which is left in a
natural state. We have wild plums, wild peaches, redbuds, hackberries,
sugarberries, wild cherries, dogwoods and more. But these two
Bradford pear trees seem especially prized because of their role as the
heralds of spring.
Here is an early Bradford pear leaf that has been
thoroughly munched by a caterpillar.
Here is a caterpillar in action . .
. and
again a much magnified caterpillar . . . and
on my thumb to give a sense of its tiny size.
Here is a
spider making its home on a pear leaf. Here is a
Crane fly in
close proximity with what seem to be two spiders! Here is a
spider that has spun its web on a pear leaf and captured three insects. In the
winter rare yellow-bellied sapsuckers sometimes stay nearby specifically
so that they can take advantage of these two Bradford pear trees.
They drill dense patterns of holes in the trunks and then return frequently
throughout the day to dine on the insects attracted by the sap. No other
trees on our property are used by the sapsuckers in this way.
Because I now have good friends who disapprove of Bradford pear trees, I would not plant them again. But I do cherish the ones that I have and I hope that thoughtful naturalists will reconsider the contributions of these ornamental trees to the environment (at least in areas where they are not invasive). . . . Oh, and as to the white flowering trees in the photo at the top of this blog . . . those are American Dogwoods, native trees that propagate profusely as a result of seeds in bird poop, trees that leaf out early and shade out their competitors, trees that frequently dominate the understory in this part of the Ozarks. Delightfully so!