How to Know the Trees 



the leaves are simple the tree is a maple; if pinnately compound, 

 of several leaflets, it is an ash; if palmately compound, of five to 

 seven leaflets, it is a horse chestnut. In winter dead leaves under 

 the trees furnish this evidence. The winter buds of the horse 

 chestnut are large and waxy, and the leaf scars look like prints of 

 a horse's hoof. Maple buds are small, and the leaf scar is a small, 

 narrow crescent. Ash buds are dull and blunt, with rough, 

 leathery scales. Maple twigs are slender. Ash and buckeye 

 twigs are stout and clumsy. 



Bark is a distinguishing character of many trees — of others 

 it is confusing. The sycamore, shedding bark in sheets from 

 its limbs, exposes pale, smooth under bark. The tree is recognis- 

 able by its mottled appearance winter or summer. The corky 

 ridges on limbs of sweet gum and bur oak are easily re- 

 membered traits. The peculiar horizontal peeling of bark on 

 birches designates most of the genus. The prussic-acid taste of 

 a twig sets the cherry tribe apart. The familiar aromatic taste of 

 the green twigs of sassafras is its best winter character; the 

 mitten-shaped leaves distinguish it in summer. 



It is necessary to get some book on the subject to discover 

 the names of trees one studies, and to act as teacher at times. A 

 book makes a good staff, but a poor crutch. The eyes and the 

 judgment are the dependable things. In spring the way in 

 which the leaves open is significant; so are the flowers. Every 

 tree when it reaches proper age bears flowers. Not all bear fruit, 

 but blossoms come on every tree. In summer the leaves and 

 fruits are there to be examined. In autumn the ripening fruits 

 are the special features. 



To know a tree's name is the beginning of acquaintance — 

 not an end in itself. There is all the rest of one's life in which to 

 follow it up. Tree friendships are very precious things, John Muir, 

 writing among his beloved trees of the Yosemite Valley, adjures 

 his world-weary fellow men to seek the companionship of trees. 



"To learn how they live and behave in pure wildness, 

 to see them in their varying aspects through the seasons and 

 weather, rejoicing in the great storms, putting forth their new 

 leaves and flowers, when all the streams are in flood, and the 

 birds singing, and sending away their seeds in the thoughtful 

 Indian summer, when all the landscape is glowing in deep, calm 

 enthusiasm — for this you must love them and live with them, as 

 free from schemes and care and time as the trees themselves." 



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