Home Care In Gumtree Pine, NC

Nature Journal

Let’s turn our attention to the blackgum tree and consider why its trunk is often hollow and the ways in which that feature has been utilized.

First, a little botanical background is in order. Most folks associate blackgum or tupelo (also called black tupelo, bowl gum, gum, pepperidge, sour gum, stinkwood, swamp gum, swamp tupelo, tupelo gum, yellow gum, yellow gumtree, wild pear tree and other names) with swamps and moist low-lying areas, not mountainous terrain.

Indeed, the first blackgum species taxonomically described was a swamp-growing type. Hence the generic name for the tree was given in honor of the mythological Greek water nymph, Nyssa.

The specific epithet, sylvatica, means "of the woods." As for the common name, no one seems to know for sure.

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There are, however, two varieties of "Nyssa sylvatica" that botanists recognize based on variances in leaf shapes, fruit sizes, seed (stone) characteristics and habitats. One we can call "swamp tupelo" (Nyssa sylvatica var. biflora). It grows in wet woods and swamps.

The only place it has been located in the Blue Ridge Province is in the northwestern corner of South Carolina. The trunk bases of this variety are usually swollen, like cypress, when occurring in frequently inundated sites.

Blackgum's hollow core

The other we can call "blackgum" (Nyssa sylvatica var. sylvatica). It grows throughout the eastern United States and is common in dry sites here in the Blue Ridge Province (often in oak and pine forests) up to 5,000 feet or more. Blackgum, which can be 100 feet tall, is generally somewhat larger than swamp tupelo.

Blackgum wood possesses an interlocked grain so that, much like sycamore, it just about can't be split, not even with wedges. Accordingly, the early settlers used the wood for mauls, tool handles, skid poles and rough floors for outbuildings.

Now we get to the interesting part. Almost every other mature blackgum that you will encounter here in the mountains is hollow. This is because the species is highly susceptible to heart rot fungi, an infection that occurs when aerially disseminated spores from various decay fungi are deposited on or near wounds, fire scars or dead branch stubs of susceptible hosts.

After the spores germinate, the fungi's vegetative strands (mycelium) grow slowly into the vulnerable wood tissues. The fungi species that invade blackgum trees attack only the tree's central column of physiologically inactive (nonliving) heartwood. An infected tree retains its outer vascular tissues for support and nutrient transport, but internally it becomes hollow.

Uses of a blackgum

For the wild critters, hollow blackgum trees become wonderful nest and refuge sites. For the early settlers they represented a utilitarian item that could be used in numerous ways. Sections could be fitted with bottoms and made into containers. They could serve as conduits for channeling or diverting water. Pits or wells could be cased at the surface with a hollow black gum log in order to prevent an inflow of surface water.

I recently read about a man who "obtained a bee-gum, put a round stone in it, and on this placed another stone, which was so contrived as to be turned with a crank. All his neighbors were welcome to come and grind their corn and buckwheat on it free of toll. The nearest mills where flour could be manufactured were miles distant."

A small hollowed section of blackgum could also be closed at one end, fitted with a triggered sliding door at the other end, baited and used as a rabbit trap.

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When I was a boy, an uncle of mine showed me how to make these traps, which he called "rabbit gums." I did catch the occasional rabbit ... but most of the time, when I turned the gum up on its back end and slid the door open to see what was inside, there was a 'possum.

This was OK. My grandmother paid 25 cents per 'possum, which she placed in a cage and "fatted up" for a couple of weeks on vegetables and then baked along with sweet potatoes.

Tupelo honey

But the most noteworthy use of hollow blackgum logs was as bee gums. Fitted with a bottom and removable cover, along with one or more holes in the lower sides, the sectioned log became a haven for honeybees and a source of "sweetenin'."

One still spots the occasional bee gum, but most hives these days are prefabricated box-shaped units.

William Marion Walker (aka Black Will or Big Will) moved with his wife, Nancy Louisa Caylor Walker, into the wilderness of Middle Prong of Little River in east Tennessee the year they were married in 1859. It is recorded that "he had 75 stand of bees in only one location, at a place he called the `Blowdown,' where the wind had felled a grove of poplar trees several miles upstream from his home. Most of the bees at this location and others were in sections of hollow black-gum logs — bee gums. Will sold big quantities of honey."

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I recently ran across a story about a beekeeper who resided in Missouri back "when the territory was feuding over whether to be a free or slave state. He was not in agreement with his neighbors, and one day they came to burn him out. He had prepared about 50 bee gums into a circle around his home. When the raiding party approached, he calmly waited until they were near, then fired ... at his own bee gums. They left him alone after that."

As I have noted before in several Back Then columns, the Cherokees and later on the white settlers here in the Blue Ridge lived close to the natural world. In some ways, of course, it was a cold, dirty, difficult, and often cruel existence. But in many ways it must have also been very rewarding.

Paying attention

You and I have to flip a switch in our minds in order to shift from our modern technological ambiance and make some sort of connection with the natural world. Every single day, for better or worse, those folks woke up as a part of the glorious world that surrounded them.

They were attentive to the land because the land provided the basics for survival and the necessary commodities for creature comforts. Medicines, foods, dyes, building materials — you name it — couldn't be purchased at Ingles or Lowe's or WalMart or the local pharmacy. They had to be extracted from the natural world.

Accordingly, people paid closer attention to the everyday world in which they existed. It's my supposition that they felt closer to and more at home in their world back then than many of us do today.

George Ellison is an award-winning naturalist and writer. His wife, Elizabeth Ellison, is a watercolor artist and paper-maker who has a gallery-studio in Bryson City. Contact them at [email protected] or [email protected] or write to P.O. Box 1262, Bryson City, NC 28713.

Editor’s note: This article first appeared in The Smoky Mountain News in March 2002.

Some months ago I wrote about how the early white settlers here in the Blue Ridge utilized the natural bends in sourwood tree trunks as runners for sleds. Lately I’ve been thinking about the way they utilized the hollow trunks of blackgum trees.

First, a little botanical background is in order. Most folks associate blackgum or tupelo (also called black tupelo, bowl gum, gum, pepperidge, sour gum, stinkwood, swamp gum, swamp tupelo, tupelo gum, yellow gum, yellow gumtree, wild pear tree, and other names) with swamps and moist low-lying areas, not mountainous terrain. Indeed, the first blackgum species taxonomically described was a swamp-growing type. Hence the generic name for the tree was given in honor of the mythological Greek water nymph, Nyssa. The specific epithet, sylvatica, means “of the woods.”

As to the common name “blackgum,” the first part refers to the dark leaves, but no one seems to know for sure what the “gum” designation refers to. “Tupelo” is derived from “ito opilwa” — the Creek Indian name for the tree.

There are, however, two varieties of “Nyssa sylvatica” that botanists recognize based on variances in leaf shapes, fruit sizes, seed (stone) characteristics and habitats. One we can call “swamp tupelo” (Nyssa sylvatica var. biflora). It grows in wet woods and swamps. The only place it has been located in the Blue Ridge Province is in the northwestern corner of South Carolina. The trunk bases of this variety are usually swollen, like cypress, when occurring in frequently inundated sites.

The other we can call “blackgum” (Nyssa sylvatica var. sylvatica). It grows throughout the eastern United States, and is common in dry sites here in the Blue Ridge Province (often in oak and pine forests) up to 5,000 feet in elevation or more. In the fall of the year from mid-September into late October, blackgum leaves turn a noteworthy “blood” or “lipstick” red.

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Blackgum wood possesses an interlocked grain; so that, much like sycamore, it just about can’t be split, not even with wedges. Accordingly, the early settlers used the wood for mauls, tool handles, skid poles, and rough floors for outbuildings.

Now we get to the interesting part. Almost every other mature blackgum that you will encounter here in the mountains is hollow. This is because the species is highly susceptible to heart rot fungi, an infection that occurs when aerially disseminated spores from various decaying fungi are deposited on or near wounds, fire scars, or dead branch stubs of susceptible hosts. After the spores germinate, the fungi’s vegetative strands (mycelium) grow slowly into the vulnerable wood tissues. The fungi species that invade blackgum trees attack only the tree’s central column of physiologically inactive (non-living) heartwood. An infected tree retains its outer vascular tissues for support and nutrient transport, but internally it becomes hollow.

For the wild critters. hollow blackgum trees become wonderful nest and refuge sites. For the early settlers they represented a utilitarian item that could be used in numerous ways. Sections could be fitted with bottoms and made into containers. They could serve as conduits for channeling or diverting water. Pits or wells could be cased at the surface with a hollow black gum log in order to prevent an inflow of surface water.

I recently read about a man who “obtained a bee-gum, put a round stone in it, and on this placed another stone, which was so contrived as to be turned with a crank. All his neighbors were welcome to come and grind their corn and buckwheat on it free of toll. The nearest mills where flour could be manufactured were miles distant.”

A small hollowed section of blackgum could also be closed at one end, fitted with a triggered sliding door at the other end, baited, and used as a rabbit trap. When I was a boy an uncle of mine showed me how to make these traps, which he called “rabbit gums.” I did catch the occasional rabbit ... but most of the time, when I turned the gum up on its back end and slid the door open to see what was inside, there was a ‘possum.

This was OK. My grandmother paid 25 cents per ‘possum, which she placed in a cage and “fatted up” for a couple of weeks on vegetables and then baked along with sweet potatoes.

But the most noteworthy use of hollow blackgum logs was (and still is, sometimes) as bee gums. Fitted with a bottom and removable cover, along with one or more holes in the lower sides, the sectioned log became a haven for honeybees and a source of “sweetenin’.”

As I have noted before in several columns, the Cherokees and later on the white settlers here in the Blue Ridge lived close to the natural world. In some ways, of course, it was a cold, dirty, difficult, and often cruel existence. But, in many ways, it must have also been very rewarding. You and I have to flip a switch in our minds in order to shift from our modern technological ambiance and make some sort of connection with the natural world. Every single day, for better or worse, those folks woke up as a part of the glorious world that surrounded them.

They were attentive to the land because the land provided the basics for survival and the necessary commodities for creature comforts. Medicines, foods, dyes, building materials — you name it — couldn’t be purchased at Ingles or Lowes or Walmart or the local pharmacy. They had to be extracted from the natural world. Accordingly, people paid closer attention to the everyday world in which they existed. It’s my supposition that they felt closer to and more at home in their world back then than many of us do today.

(George Ellison is a naturalist and writer. He can be reached at [email protected].)

In a year when an aggressive strain of influenza has gripped the nation, the sweet gum holds out its fruit-laden limbs with its own humble contribution to humanity. The infertile seeds found in each of the sweet gum’s compound seed capsules are a naturally occurring source of shikimic acid, one of the main ingredients in the manufacture of Tamiflu. The internet is full of homegrown techniques to extract this valuable chemical from the tree’s seeds.

Generally considered a southern tree, the sweet gum (Liquidambar styraciflua) reaches the northernmost limits of its natural range along the coast not far north of New York City. Humans have transplanted this species extensively, so it can now be found growing as a street tree or even in any number of botanic gardens well outside its original range. But in New York City, the sweet gum is a fairly common sight, growing best where there is rich, loamy soil with good moisture.

Where conditions suit it, the tree can grow to mighty dimensions: nearly 75 feet tall with a spreading canopy. The sweet gum resembles a maple tree, and in the summer, the star-shaped leaves and sturdy trunk are impressive, if easily overlooked. It is only in winter, after the tree’s greenery has been shed, that the sweet gum’s finer points can truly be appreciated.

At this time of year, sweet gums stand out. The tree’s dark grayish brown twigs bear unusual, corky ridges that lend the tree a peculiar angularity. Additionally, the sweet gum’s spiky “gum balls” hang conspicuously from the tree’s smaller branches, sometimes all winter. These compound seed capsules are often confused with the seed heads of the American sycamore, or its London plane-tree hybrid, but the two are only superficially similar. The seed heads of the sycamore disintegrate as their seeds are dispersed; the sweet gum seed capsule, on the other hand, has a woody structure, and the gum balls are quite persistent. They can often be found in great numbers at the bases of the trees’ trunks, as well as along walking paths where they amuse or annoy dogs and their walkers, runners, picnickers and bike riders alike.

The sweet gum grows in a long list of states, thinning to a more patchy distribution as it spreads southward into Mexico and Central America. For a New World tree, it is interesting to note its Old World connections. The first Westerners to describe the plant were Spanish conquistadors who recorded its uses by Montezuma and the formidable Aztec empire in the 16th century. Chief among them, the sweet gum’s fragrant resin was used to flavor a pipe full of an unfamiliar plant called tobacco.

This resin is still in use today, occasionally flavoring tobacco, but it is also used as a mild antiseptic and as a treatment for sores. The tree itself is also an important lumber crop in the American South, but because its wood is not strong, it is generally used in combination with other woods as a veneer or in the making of plywood.

Older gum trees are not uncommon in the thick, rich-soiled woodlands of several parks in New York City. Among these, Wolfe’s Pond and Blue Heron parks on Staten Island are among the best. Just watch where you walk.