Along the edge of my Uncle Bob’s sprawling property stood an incredibly beautiful tree. It was a Black Walnut, and towered over the shallow spring-fed pond that once watered dairy cows and served as a nautical landing pad for area mallards.
For the first five years I lived there, I would forget about the tree entirely until the third week of August, when my friend Carl would throw one of its green fruits squarely between my shoulders, leaving a dark stain from its hull on whatever shirt he’d just ruined. His annual first volley sparked a brief but filthy war for the first two weeks of each school year, usually ending only when his alcoholic father sobered up enough to wonder why his son’s new school clothes were peppered with walnut husks, then peppering him with fisticuffs until Carl promised to stop.
In addition to providing plentiful “kid ammo,” the walnut trees also provided a weird side effect--they produced a soil toxin called Juglone, which prevents all but the most tolerant species from surviving near the parent tree. Staining a new sweatshirt was one thing, but poisoning the orchard was another--we always had enough sense to keep our skirmishes far from our family orchard. Once the Juglone broke down in the soil, it stayed there for a long time, working through the soil layers until it broke down. We’d seen the apple trees near the pond Walnut wither and die, and knew that spreading the rotten fruit further would only poison a larger area.
After she saw its affecting the soil conditions on the nearest row of Heirloom trees, my Aunt Hester finally got pissed enough to cut it down. She went at the tree with all five feet of her Filipino fury and my Uncle’s new Stihl chainsaw. After 10 minutes, she dropped it into the pond, then had one of our hired hands wrap a tractor chain around it and drag it to the edge of the road, where she sold it off and made out pretty well. Very few trees fetch a better dollar for lumber than Walnut.
Quite a few people wondered how I’d react, thinking I would miss the tree that had stood on the property my late parents had turned into Quercitin Farms. Quite a few people were surprised that I turned out glad to see it go.
There continue to be some great bass in the pond below, and I find it’s easier to cast into their favorite spots without that stupid tree getting in the way each day. With the money that Hester made selling it off, she bought a pair of new four wheelers, which made getting around the farm both easier and more fun. More than anything, I’m just glad not to have to smell it anymore, or step over it, or spend time working around it. Lots of people thought it was a great tree, but they didn’t have to live with it everyday.
A few fun facts about Juglone toxicity, and an odd social parallel:
Juglone poisons the soil and prevents certain species from thriving or surviving. Some species are completely unaffected due to their genetic makeup. Some species survive, but never thrive; still other species don’t flourish until the poison is completely gone.
For years after removing a Black Walnut, toxins in the soil persist, and new plants sensitive to their poison will not fare well. This exclusionary mechanism allows walnut trees to colonize areas and prevent competition, by stifling other species' ability to breathe, survive, or flourish.
When a poisonous social or business attitude persists, it greatly affects the surrounding “ orchards ” and their culture. For every strong personality who can survive a toxic environment, there is another who is consumed, unless extraordinary outside measures provide support.
The question remains: for the organization who finds itself growing a Black Walnut, is it better to clean up their droppings each year to limit their poisonous impact, or is it better to cut the tree down, throw a chain around it, and sell it off for lumber?
For the first five years I lived there, I would forget about the tree entirely until the third week of August, when my friend Carl would throw one of its green fruits squarely between my shoulders, leaving a dark stain from its hull on whatever shirt he’d just ruined. His annual first volley sparked a brief but filthy war for the first two weeks of each school year, usually ending only when his alcoholic father sobered up enough to wonder why his son’s new school clothes were peppered with walnut husks, then peppering him with fisticuffs until Carl promised to stop.
In addition to providing plentiful “kid ammo,” the walnut trees also provided a weird side effect--they produced a soil toxin called Juglone, which prevents all but the most tolerant species from surviving near the parent tree. Staining a new sweatshirt was one thing, but poisoning the orchard was another--we always had enough sense to keep our skirmishes far from our family orchard. Once the Juglone broke down in the soil, it stayed there for a long time, working through the soil layers until it broke down. We’d seen the apple trees near the pond Walnut wither and die, and knew that spreading the rotten fruit further would only poison a larger area.
After she saw its affecting the soil conditions on the nearest row of Heirloom trees, my Aunt Hester finally got pissed enough to cut it down. She went at the tree with all five feet of her Filipino fury and my Uncle’s new Stihl chainsaw. After 10 minutes, she dropped it into the pond, then had one of our hired hands wrap a tractor chain around it and drag it to the edge of the road, where she sold it off and made out pretty well. Very few trees fetch a better dollar for lumber than Walnut.
Quite a few people wondered how I’d react, thinking I would miss the tree that had stood on the property my late parents had turned into Quercitin Farms. Quite a few people were surprised that I turned out glad to see it go.
There continue to be some great bass in the pond below, and I find it’s easier to cast into their favorite spots without that stupid tree getting in the way each day. With the money that Hester made selling it off, she bought a pair of new four wheelers, which made getting around the farm both easier and more fun. More than anything, I’m just glad not to have to smell it anymore, or step over it, or spend time working around it. Lots of people thought it was a great tree, but they didn’t have to live with it everyday.
A few fun facts about Juglone toxicity, and an odd social parallel:
Juglone poisons the soil and prevents certain species from thriving or surviving. Some species are completely unaffected due to their genetic makeup. Some species survive, but never thrive; still other species don’t flourish until the poison is completely gone.
For years after removing a Black Walnut, toxins in the soil persist, and new plants sensitive to their poison will not fare well. This exclusionary mechanism allows walnut trees to colonize areas and prevent competition, by stifling other species' ability to breathe, survive, or flourish.
When a poisonous social or business attitude persists, it greatly affects the surrounding “ orchards ” and their culture. For every strong personality who can survive a toxic environment, there is another who is consumed, unless extraordinary outside measures provide support.
The question remains: for the organization who finds itself growing a Black Walnut, is it better to clean up their droppings each year to limit their poisonous impact, or is it better to cut the tree down, throw a chain around it, and sell it off for lumber?
Despite the potential toxicity that apparently the black walnut emits; the black walnut is also loaded with nutrients and used for medicinal purposes to treat a litany of skin conditions, eliminate intestinal parasites, as a dental agent and is even used in cancer therapies. Southerners have long known how to make mean and delicious black walnut treats in the form of cookies, cakes and ice cream. Whereas not all environments may be capable of fully embracing and accepting the bold and beautiful tree; the fruits it bears may indeed be sweet and potent enough to entice one to demonstrate a little tolerance and give it the space it needs to thrive. We can't control the nature of the tree, but we can modify its environment and even reap some unexpected benefits.
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