The Rural Voice, 2002-10, Page 36HON% old is that oak
tree'' One might
think 100. or
mai he 150 years.
Amazingly. 450 years is
the a\ erage age for an oak
tree left to nature's own
devices. Their longevity
and propensity to
withstand years of
physical damage combine
to gine us that familiar
silhouette of the gnarled
old oak. And twisted as it
sounds. these old oaks
may have their gnarled
looks and damaged hollow
trunks to thank for their
survival.
The remaining old oaks
which dot the country side
of Southern Ontario have
continually become more
and more scarce from the
time of the pioneer's axe
to today's chainsaw.
Historically. oak was the
most common building
timber for beams and
rafters with the potential
to endure for centuries
when kept dry. Its
toughness and strain
resistance was favoured
for wheel spokes and
ladder rungs. Its attractive
grain is showcased in
many a furniture piece. Of
course, many became
barrel staves for aging
whiskey — after all, oaks
have a lot of experience
when it comes to aging.
Yet few oaks cut have
ever been planted back
since the slow growing
oaks may take over 100
years to even reach near a
mature size.
The strong and hardy
oaks earn their longevity
by being highly disease
and insect resistant — and
by being highly resilient
to physical damage. For
example. the familiar
gnarled old oaks are
believed to take more
lightning strikes than any
other species. This
perhaps explains why the
ancient Greeks associated
32 THE RURAL VOICE
ANCIENT GIANTS
Mang of the remaining oak trees
started growing
well before the pioneers were born.
Story and photo by Larry Drew
This Northern Red Oak, with a diameter of just over
four feet, was probably standing tall when my
ancestors settled the property in the 1830s.
oaks with Zeus and his
lightning bolts, or why the
Norse associated oaks
with Thor the god of
thunder. Regardless, the
damage from centuries of
strikes only adds to the
gnarled appeal of these
magnificent old oaks.
Many of these gnarled old
oaks still stand alone in
fields and pastures across
southern Ontario, making
their distinctive
silhouettes familiar to
most of us — with thick
branches spreading almost
horizontally from their
trunks, and crowns
sometimes as wide as the
tree is tall.
With the lyrics of many
a song to back me, many
of us have a favourite old
oak. Mine, located in our
woodlot, is shown in the
photo. But this same tree
once stood alone in a
pasture before my father
reforested the area around
it in the 1950s and '60s. In
fact, 50 years ago this
same oak stood as large,
gnarled. and old looking
as it does today. Given
that these slow growing
oaks may take over 100
years just to reach a
mature size, it's not hard
to imagine that my
ancestors who began
clearing the area in the
1830s probably knew this
oak.
The old oak in our bush
probably escaped the axe
because of its hollow
trunk and many cavities
that made it a poor timber
tree — thus securing its
continued longevity. Most
did fall to the axe. And
that would have been no
easy feat. The problem for
the axe wielding pioneer
seeking these prized oaks
started with up to a four -
inch layer of rock -hard
bark. More importantly, it
was a very dangerous
under -taking to unleash a
large oak given the
uneven and often
unpredictable distribution
of its heavy and gnarled
canopy above. Probably
many a pioneer's life
flashed before his eyes as
a mature oak spun on its
stump before the tree
chose its direction of fall.
There is at least one story
of just such a lucky escape
in my own family history.
While hollow and
gnarled oaks were not so