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.

More:Nature Journal: What's behind WNC's glorious fall colors?

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.

More:Nature Journal: Are squirrels 'tree rats' or 'tree warriors'?

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.

We love trees. They can provide shade; fall, spring, or year-round color; and plenty of visual interest no matter where they're planted. They're habitats for our avian neighbors. They're just plain pretty. A yard without trees is a forlorn space indeed—however, there are more than a few tree species that are more trouble than they're worth. In fact, there are some trees you just shouldn't plant. Ever. These are the trees that will invade. They have roots that will tear up your lawn. They're short-lived and high-maintenance, and they're terrible choices for your yard. Because there are so many easy-care trees out there, why choose one that will potentially ruin your yard? Keep an eye out for these trees, and avoid them at all costs.

(Pyrus calleryana 'Bradford')

Why not? As you probably already know, The Grumpy Gardener hates Bradford pear trees. If this is news to you, he's on the record saying, "It explodes in windstorms, its flowers smell like fish, it grows too big, and thousands of its thorny seedlings now consume roadsides and the woods," and "If you have a Bradford pear in your yard, yesterday would have been a great day to cut it down."

Learn more about callery pear.

02 of 12

Chinese Flame Tree

(Koelreuteria bipinnata)

Why not? The seed capsules of this tree (which is also known as bougainvillea goldenrain tree) travel widely and sprout everywhere—and we mean everywhere. According to The Grumpy Gardener, who has deemed this tree the 'Worst Tree [He] Ever Planted,' "During fall and winter, the papery capsules blow everywhere, bringing the seeds in contact with soil. Every time this happens, every single seed germinates. Let all of them grow and in a couple of years, your entire yard literally becomes a forest of Chinese flame trees."

Learn more about Koelreuteria.

03 of 12

Eastern Cottonwood

(Populus deltoides)

Why not? Skip planting this tree unless you like to deal with mess. Cottonwood produces a bounty of fluffy, cotton-like seeds that will stick to everything. This tree also has a combination of undesirable root characteristics: Its root system is aggressive, shallow, and rather pliant, which makes the tree very unstable. It also has a weak wood structure. All in all, these factors add up to a tree not hardy enough to withstand years of exposure to the elements, so any cottonwood you plant may come down sooner rather than later.1

Learn more about cottonwood.

04 of 12

Ginkgo

(Ginkgo biloba)

Why not? Disclaimer: Gingko trees are often a fine choice for yards. Their leaves turn bright yellow and drop in a great big pile, a vibrant seasonal effect that requires only a bit of maintenance. They are a hardy, easy-care choice—as long as you don't plant female gingko trees, which drop messy fruit that is so smelly, it will make your time outside unbearable.2 By sticking with male gingko tree selections like 'Autumn Gold,' 'Fairmount,' and 'Saratoga,' you can ensure a fruit- and odor-free yard year-round.

Learn more about gingko.

05 of 12

Mimosa

(Albizia julibrissin)

Why not? These trees may be pretty, but they're also short lived and their seedlings spread ferociously.3 The Grumpy Gardener sums it up, calling them, "Weedy, short-lived, insect- and disease-prone, [with] invasive roots, [and] unattractive most of the year." Still not convinced? Grumpy explains further, "After the flowers fade, the tree grows hundreds of 6-inch long, bean-like, brown seedpods which hang from every branch. The seedpods persist all winter, even after the tree has dropped its leaves. Few trees look as ugly or more forlorn." Just say no.

Learn more about mimosa.

06 of 12

Silver Maple

(Acer saccharinum)

Why not? This fast-growing tree has a root system that will tear up your yard in no time. According to The Grumpy Gardener, "Its roots are infamous for clogging water lines and breaking sidewalks. Its weak branches fall in storms. And look at all the seeds it drops in one season, each destined to become a baby silver maple!" All in all, it's not a great choice for your yard or any nearby sidewalks that need to remain intact.

Learn more about maple.

07 of 12

Southern Magnolia

(Magnolia grandiflora)

Why not? We know, we know: Everyone loves a magnolia. But hear us out: Many magnolias grow far too big for the average yard. Leaf drop happens year-round, which means that the addition of a magnolia ups the messy-yard factor significantly.4 Added to the trees' development of those notorious and knotty surface roots, these factors point us to other—better—tree choices for our yards. Also, thanks to the crowded under-soil space the roots occupy and the dense canopy of magnolia leaves, it's almost impossible for any other plantings to thrive near it.

Learn more about magnolia.

08 of 12

Sweet Gum

(Liquidambar styraciflua)

Why not? While sweet gum is known and appreciated for its lovely fall color, it is also despised for its seeds. If there's a sweet gum in your yard, you can forget about walking around barefoot once the seedpods fall in autumn and winter. The pods have sharp, spiny exteriors that will elicit a shout if you happen to be stuck with one. Ouch. Their surface roots can also create issues across the lawn.5

Learn more about sweet gum.

09 of 12

Sycamore

(Platanus occidentalis)

Why not? Sycamores are notorious for making messes. An immense leaf and bark drop coupled with large, long-hanging, and frequent-falling seedpods will litter the ground around the sycamore year after year. If you're looking for a tidy yard, the majestic sycamore will work against you—and fill your yard, rain gutters, and driveway with piles of leaves. They grow to enormous heights very quickly and also have aggressive roots. High maintenance indeed.6

Learn more about sycamore.

10 of 12

White Mulberry

(Morus alba)

Why not? Talk about aggressive roots. White mulberry roots have been known to shoot out through yards, cracking pavement and upending landscaping along the way. No one wants that in their yard. Plus, white mulberry trees are known to be messy neighbors, and the species' male trees emit pollen notorious for triggering allergies. While birds love the fruit of mulberry trees—a phenomenon that will also cause unwanted messes in your yard—we must admit that we do not.7

Learn more about mulberry.

11 of 12

Tulip Poplar

(Liriodendron tulipifera)

Why not? If you have a small yard, you are going to want to avoid this particular tree, a species in the Magnolia family, which can grow upwards of 100 feet tall.8 According to The New Southern Living Garden Book, "It also tends to drop twigs and small branches throughout the year. Don't park cars beneath it, because aphids feeding on the leaves drip sticky honeydew. […] It's not a good street tree either, as rising heat from hot pavement may scorch the leaves."

Learn more about poplar.

12 of 12

Weeping Willow

(Salix babylonica)

Why not? Again, the root system is the reason we avoid this tree. The roots of the willow are aggressive and strong. They've been known to ruin underground water lines and crack poured pavement. The willow is susceptible to disease and pests; it grows wide—often 50 to 60 feet—and its branches hang low.9 Avoid it at all costs. You've been warned.

Learn more about willow.