If a tree falls on a pathway and no on is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Well, I can’t answer that great philosophical query, as the tree trunk fell when I wasn’t on the pathway to my SIL’ s house. I was caring for her cat and plants while she traveled and I’d walked the pathway at about 3pm, then once again just after 7pm. The pathway between our homes was clear during my mid-afternoon jaunt, but blocked (or mostly so) by early evening. The fall and presumed BOOM occurred sometime late afternoon.

So why was this dead tree, or snag, allowed to stand, as it was so obviously no longer producing leaves? Dead trees are important part of a healthy and vital ecosystem, beyond the obvious foliage-producing life of a tree. According to forest ecologist Dr. Jerry Franklin, of the University of Washington, a living tree “has only partially fulfilled its potential ecological function” and trees’ death and decay are the second important act. Wildlife of all kinds use snags for protection, nesting, and food and for many years and generations. As fallen wood decays over time, it nourishes and enriches soil.

Once a snag falls, it is called a log.

The photo doesn’t clearly show just how deeply the log sank into the soil as it hit the ground, but it’ll require a bit of smoothing out and possibly some additional soil.

The rust color of the trunk is where the large limb/trunk vacated the remains of the old and dead Arizona Ash. There’s plenty of rot in the state of that tree!

A wider view demonstrates where the tree sits, with SIL’s property to the left, ours to the right.

From my garden, the Poverty Weed, Baccharis neglecta, acts as a screen to the remaining two snags.

The Weed planted itself a couple of years ago and I’ve become quite fond of it. This view is from the center of my front garden, looking toward my SIL’s garden.

The downed log is a sizeable chunk of wood!

SIL will hire the arborist that we’ve both worked with to chain saw this log into pieces. Depending upon how big and heavy those slices are, I hope to “snag” a few of them to place in my gardens, though whether I can lift and move them is a whole other issue! I utilize downed limbs and decaying wood in my own gardens to serve as homes for critters and to enrich the soil. I’m certain that SIL will also want to do the same in her garden with the remains of her tree. Our beetles, native bees, birds and other critters will appreciate their new digs and food sources, and the soil where the log pieces will sit will improve as the wood decays.

My SIL and I clearly don’t live in a forested area where trees fall regularly and because we live in an urban environment, we are cognizant of the dangers of falling limbs and trunks to ourselves, our visitors, and our properties. The tree has been monitored by an arborist for several years and all of the upper canopy limbs pruned away as they became potential problems. Only the substantial trunk and remaining three (now two) large partial limbs remain. Resident owls and hawks have used the snag to perch, wood peckers have built nests, and many other birds regularly perch for safety and hunt insects in this snag. An even greater variety of insects, beetles, native bees, and who know what other critters have found safe havens in this mass of wood.

A completed woodpecker hole (and one that was started, but not finished), now lie near the ground, but once provided for Red-bellied Woodpeckers and their chicks.

Other holes were created by insects for their progeny.

I suspect that our wet spring and summer may have hastened internal rot and caused this one side of the trunk with limb to break away. For safety, it may very well be time to remove the entirety of the tree; that will be a decision for my SIL and her arborist. If so, I’ll miss this hulking thing.

For most of my years in this house (since 1985), this tree has been a monument in the neighborhood. It was one of the largest trees and cast its huge umbrella of limbs-n-leaves over most of my front garden for decades. After it succumbed to winter storm Uri five years ago, the bulk of the tree died and limbs were removed. The dead and dying tree–the snag–added structural interest to the gardens. I will miss the busy activity of birds, squirrels, and other critters in and around the snag. When it’s gone, a defining focal point of each of our gardens will be forever altered.

There is a season and a time for every matter under heaven.