Forked Pondo Pine

On a walkabout last year, in the Boise Mountains, up Cottonwood Creek, I was traversing through a grove of ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa), or pondos, and stumbled upon a tree that had a remarkable fork in it. The bark of the pondo was a yellowish color and the bole was forked, at around 10 feet from the ground. The fork was probably created when the tree was a sapling and the top was injured by a falling tree, or maybe by a porcupine chewing on it. Ponderosa pine is the signature tree of the American West, or much of the West. The bark thickens as the tree matures and turns a yellowish color. The thick bark of the pondo serves to protect it from wildland fires, that commonly sweep through the forest.

As a result of the damage, the top of the tree was died. Assassinated by a falling chunk of wood or the jaws of a hungry mammal. The upper branches then competed to be the leading branch, over the next few years. The head honcho. El Jefe. Two branches in particular, managed to stage a growth spurt over the next decade, and both survived, creating a fork. A double topped tree. A woody duo.

The cleft was a perfect nesting spot for a bird or raccoon, or maybe even a tired hiker. A fire had burned through this area several years ago, and it left char marks at the base of the tree, and killed the lower branches but the tree easily survived the flames. The bunch grass and shrubs had grown back thick and luxurious, leaving few traces of the fire.

Growing up in the Rocky Mountains there were pondos in our back yard, and we perfected our climbing skills on the wide sweeping branches. Mountaineers of the woodlands. Many times we clambered all the way to the very tip top of the tree, only to enjoy a magnificent view of the Mission Mountains with Goat Peak, and Mount Calowahcan in the distance. The neighbor kids would sometimes accompany us and most of them were adept climbers, but occasionally I would have to coax one of them down the tree when they became scared. Going up the tree was fairly easy but going down could be a tad bit scary, because you were looking down and it was hard to see your footholds.

In addition to tree climbing I also engaged one time, in some hazard fuel reduction. All it took was matches and the imagination of a 10 year old. My sister and I spent a couple of hours lighting dead pondo needles under the trees around the house. Unsupervised of course. I don't recommend anyone playing with matches but it caused no harm.