One of my favorite ways to welcome the start of a new year is by taking a peaceful hike through the woods and letting the calmness of the forest usher me into new beginnings. I love breathing in the cool, crisp air, letting it fill up my lungs. And with each cloudy exhale, the past year slips away, making way for the year ahead.
As my boots crunched and sunk into the snow, the trees were shedding bits of snow that littered their branches, dispatched by the wind. In my attempts to avoid getting showered by falling snow, I found myself walking among scattered giants. Standing next to the old eastern hemlock, staring up at the towering trunk, I began to feel very small as I imagined what this tree has lived through and the things that they have seen. How many generations of songbirds have nested in their branches, or found food in their cones? How many generations of deer, bears, wolves, and other wildlife have they seen treading beneath their branches? How have they seen us change, and do they like what they see? How have they watched the world change around them, as they stand rooted in place?
Leaving the old hemlock behind, I continued down the snowy trail, wishing I could travel back in time to witness the old growth forests that used to cover northern Wisconsin, pre-cutover. When the forests were largely dominated by mature hemlock hardwood communities, rather than the aspen stands that are dominant now. It’s likely that the old hemlock is a survivor of the cutover. My mind wanders to the ancient hemlocks that were cleaved from the landscape for the tannins in their bark, and their use in tanning hides. Their trunks cut, and discarded on the dirt they grew from for hundreds of years, with their bark taken. It’s hard for me to imagine their sheer size, and how big they might be now had they not been cut down. What I wouldn’t give to listen to those ancient hemlocks’ stories, and walk beneath their branches.
But as I dream about old growth hemlocks, I find myself among a stand of hemlock regeneration. Hemlocks have the ability to live very long lives, reaching maturity around 250-300 years old, with potential to live 800 years or more. However, it's a tough start for many eastern hemlocks. The viability of their seeds is very low, with under a 25% chance that the seed sprouts. In the case that a seedling does begin to grow, they grow extremely slowly, with first-year seedlings averaging out at a staggering height of 1 to 1.5 inches. These slow growth rates can be quite the challenge, with many animal species who will feed on small hemlocks. White-tailed deer are a big hindrance to new hemlock growth, readily browsing saplings down, and repressing their already slow growth.
However, this patch of regeneration seems to be flourishing, and is somehow escaping the deer. Seeing their skinny little trunks and small stature dotting the understory gives me hope that a new generation of hemlocks will someday inherit the canopy. And hopefully, their sheer size will be appreciated generations from now, as someone wandering through the forest takes a moment to stop and reflect.
For
more than 50 years, the Cable Natural History Museum has served to connect you
to the Northwoods. Our Winter Calendar is open for registration! Visit our new
exhibit, “Becoming the Northwoods: Akiing (A Special Place). Follow us on
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