Plant a tree for a greener Ireland, but make sure it's suitable for your space, writes JANE POWERS.
TREES ARE NOT the first things that spring to mind when you think of Ireland. We don’t have an awful lot of them. In fact, our tree coverage is only a quarter of the EU average. During the last millennium, this island was almost completely denuded of its woods. At the beginning of the 20th century, less than 1 per cent of its original woodland remained. Many Irish people will tell you that this is because the trees were exported to England to build ships for the British navy, to provide charcoal for smelting, and for various other purposes. And while some of this is true (the oak timbers from Dublin in the roof of Salisbury Cathedral bear testament to this) the story is more complicated than that.
We had our own indigenous iron works, kilns, and other activities that helped to eat up trees faster than they were planted. A more persistent factor in the erasing of our woodlands was probably the development of agriculture, with its attendant land clearance. And with the population growing from 2 million in 1700 to more than 8 million at the start of the Famine in the 1840s, there was an increasing amount of land under cultivation and settlement. During this period, tree-planting was carried out with great gusto by the Anglo-Irish ascendancy – some of whom were eager to avail of the grants provided by the Irish parliament. During the 18th century an estimated 53,000 hectares (around 130,000 acres) of private woodlands were planted, according to an essay by Emmet Byrnes, an archaeologist with the Forest Service, which you can find on www.woodlandsofireland.com.
One of those who planted with more gusto than most was the Irish MP and barrister, Samuel Hayes, who lived at Avondale in Co Wicklow, later the home of Charles Stewart Parnell. His Practical Treatise on Trees, published in 1794, was the first Irish book on trees (available in a facsimile edition from New Island Press, €30). Commissioned by the Dublin Society (now the RDS), the publication was intended to be solely an instructive manual on tree planting and management.
But, while Hayes devoted the first half of the book to admirable instructions on the cultivation and uses of trees, in the second part he allowed his passion for the prodigious woody individuals a free rein. In this section, he rambles mainly through the eastern counties of this island, marvelling at the “Magnitude, Value and Quickness of Growth of several Trees in Ireland”. Although most of the trees that he venerates are no longer with us two centuries later, many of the estates are. Among them are Mount Usher, Killruddery, Kilmacurragh and – of course – his own Avondale. All are still famed for their noble trees.
Both Kilmacurragh and Avondale are now owned by the State, so that the fine trees that were planted by the gentry are now in the stewardship of the plain people of Ireland – something that Samuel Hayes, or the Actons at Kilmacurragh (then Westaston) might never have imagined. These august wooden entities, germinated in nurseries and carefully minded by estate employees, have become as much a part of our culture as the small wind-bent hawthorn tree that stands obstinately in the middle of a modern ploughed field – superstitiously avoided in case bad things befall any who might interfere with it.
The Protestant demesne owners saw their trees in a romantic light, and arranged them artistically in the landscape, but they also valued them in the way that a general values his army. Each species fulfilled a precisely prescribed niche in the greater and very orderly scheme of things. In his book, for instance, Hayes notes that juniper, holly and laurel afford good cover for game, while thinnings of oak woods make excellent hop poles if straight (and rustic gates and trellises if bent). Thriving specimens of the native hazel and hawthorn indicate suitable terrain and conditions for planting other forest trees. All this is in marked contrast to the misty, magical tree culture of Celtic Ireland where spirits and fairies swirl around the trunks, and curses and charms drop portentously from the branches.
It’s easy to dismiss those fantastical ideas, but it’s not so easy to deny the overwhelming aura of some trees. A horse chestnut in a Victorian square near where I live has a monumental and commanding presence, so much so that I feel obliged to go and worship it a couple of times a year. I’ve no idea how old it is (100 years? 150?), but it has seen more seasons, more weather, more history than I could ever imagine. Trees are, after all, the largest and oldest living beings on this planet.
Having established my tree-appreciation credentials, I have to add, however, that I’m not in favour of just any tree anywhere. And I have little compunction in cutting down unsuitable garden trees and planting something else in their place.
So, if I am to impart anything practical to you in this column – rather than just indulging my inner tree-hugger – let it be that the matter of planting trees should be approached with a certain amount of thought for the future. Trees grow. They may grow very large. The little acorn that was sprouted by tiny fingers in nature class may indeed grow into a mighty oak – one that shades the back garden, sucks all the moisture out of the soil, and drives the neighbours batty. I’m not saying don’t plant it – that would be a denying a child the incomparable and important pleasure of growing something. Do plant it, but if the garden is not huge, remind its grower that in 10 years the little sapling will move into the next stage of its existence – as the pole for a bird table, or as a logpile for wildlife, or even firewood for the house. And promise that you’ll plant something else in its place.
At that point – or even now, if you can skip the acorn and oak phase – consider trees that are more proportionate to the garden. There are manageable varieties of crab apple ( Malus), rowan and whitebeam ( Sorbus), flowering cherry ( Prunus), hawthorn ( Crataegus), june berry ( Amelanchier) and birch ( Betula). Hazel ( Corylus) may grow too large if left to its own devices, but it can be coppiced (cut back hard in spring) so that it produces lots of stems with larger leaves.
There are dozens of other suitably sized trees – just make sure that you find out the eventual height and spread, and the conditions that they like. And finally, if you do have a really big garden (more than an acre, say), do plant something that will grow to be huge and majestic. The future of a greener Ireland depends on it.
NATIONAL TREE WEEK
National Tree Week runs from March 1st to 7th, and this year's theme is "Our trees, our culture". For details of events happening throughout the country, see
www.treecouncil.ie.