The mighty oak that connects us to our roots

My humble reader, as the cold winds begin to blow harder and the coming of winter gets closer, we tend to begin the mental process of taking inventory on our lives and reflecting on the year that was. Such as thinking back to all that happened, about those alongside us, and the things around us. Some of those things in our lives stand like the mighty oak, showing unwavering strength and that it will stand forever, depositing us a life inheritance that helped us grow. It is hard to reflect on the narrative of something as simple as a tree while it stands tall. That is, until it’s gone.

Late May saw severe weather, even producing high winds and tornadoes that made a mess of things in our area. Trees, especially, tended to take it the hardest; with branches snapping and trees being uprooted altogether. One of these trees we saw tipped over happened to be a very large, old oak tree on our family farm, that we simply called “the Oak Tree.” Purdue University provided a formula some time ago to estimate the age of a tree, and this oak was guessed to be over 149 years old. Throughout it’s time the Oak Tree provided habitat for more than 500 different kinds of butterflies and moths, a food source for small and large game (like whitetail deer and black bears), a home for birds/small critters, and did its part for collecting carbon and producing oxygen. According to a few resources, oak trees are one of (if not the best) at capturing carbon and air pollutants on our planet.

Oak trees have long been revered as a human symbol for strength and longevity, and this tree was no different. It had served as the gateway to our family’s hunting careers, being the first tree stand you sat in during rifle deer hunting season. It started for my dad, then to my brothers, as well as for myself. Each of us harvested a buck from that tree; climbing up precariously (there wasn’t really a ladder to climb up) towards a large limb, fashioned with a 16 in. 2x4 lumber-board nailed to it to sit on. Its sheer size became a landmark reference for our woodland adventures in our youth. If we got ‘turned-around’ at least we knew where Oak Tree was.

Oak trees are considered keystone species in a woodland ecosystem because of the impact and influence it can have (from forage to shelter) on a wide range of plants and animals. Even after this tree served its cycle in our hardwoods, it is making way for the next batch of trees to grow in its place. And even providing further enrichment to the environment by being a haven to a host of insects, fungi, small mammals, and amphibians if left to decay. As the ecosystem benefited from that tree, so did we as an inheritance deposited in our lives. Experiencing the fruits of that kind of inheritance allows us to live differently and reflect on our comprehension of the world around us. Understand that Oak Tree wasn’t just a tree: it was our experience deer hunting as young children, building a relationship with the natural world, understanding disappointment from a missed shot, and feeling the rush of pure joy of success when we harvested a deer on our own. The young acorn eventually grows into the mighty oak. Now it lies in ruin on the forest floor. A shattered image of the tree we once knew. Understandably, we are talking about a tree, but I really feel there is an allegory here. Things are taken away us, that’s just a part of life. We all have something, or someone, that stands unwavering, sheltering us on stormy days, holding us up when we need it the most, and giving us happy moments. Then it’s gone. Just like that. We wish that it never happened, but that is not for us to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that was given to you (JRR Tolkien). Which is the ultimate responsibility if you ask me.

Focus on the moments and realize how lucky we are to have something (or someone) so special in our lives that we miss it when it’s gone. Just appreciate when it is in front of you now, and not after it is gone. As much as I am saddened that I will not be able to see my children inherit the Oak Tree, I am excited at the task to pass on the memories from time to time, and for them to perhaps one day find their own ‘oak tree.’ So this season, take an inventory on your inheritances and find your oak tree. Heck, you might be sitting in it this hunting weekend.

THE SOIL

SOUNDOFF

BY

MATT OEHMICHEN AGRONOMIST