If only…

If only we could have gone crabbing together, just one more time, and lunged for those speedy blue crabs, scurrying across the sandy bottom of the Tisbury Great Pond. If only we could have had just one more glorious summer afternoon at the beach, jumping and diving and swimming in the surf with our gaggle of delighted children. If only we could have had one more Martha’s Vineyard night of s’mores around a campfire, with the Milky Way aglow and the Perseids dashing overhead.

Too often I find myself thinking “if only,” and regretting that I had not done something that I ought to have done, while I had the chance. We now have this chance, however, with our faithful forest friend, the American beech, Fagus grandifolia. I urge you to take some time before the summer is over to spend among the beeches.

Sadly, the American beeches of the island are now firmly in the throes of beech leaf disease. This new disease is caused by a nematode, Litylenchus crenatae. A nematode is a very small worm. The nematode burrows into the buds of beeches. When the buds open and the leaves emerge, dark bands appear between certain of the veins of the leaf. This banding is very easy to observe when looking up at the underside of the leaves. Before long, the leaves begin to curl, and then to shrivel, and then they fall off. Sometimes, a second flush of leaves emerges. These second flush leaves are much lighter in color than the first flush, and lack the dark bands of the infested leaves. Eventually, through successive defoliations, the nematode can kill the trees.

The beeches also try to withstand the attack by sending up root sprouts. When it comes to competition with other trees, beeches patiently play a very long game. They spend years in the shade of trees that require more light, such as oaks, and wait for the right event. When that event happens, and the oak is toppled by wind, or split by lightning, or cut down for lumber, the beech seizes that opportunity. Released, the beech grows toward the light, and assumes its erstwhile competitor’s place in the canopy. At the same time, the beech casts a shade so deep that nothing else can grow beneath it—nothing, that is, except another beech. To further monopolize the forest, the beech sends up sprouts, sometimes called “suckers,” from its roots, and these sprouts grow into mature trees. The roots also emit toxins, and poison other plants that might otherwise try to grow in a beech grove. Even with all of these patient techniques, the beeches may still not have enough to ward off the plague of a billion invasive nematodes.

Beech leaf disease was first observed in Ohio in 2012, and it has since spread across the entire northeastern United States. I have read that the nematode originally came from Japan, and our trees, therefore, are rather unprepared for it. On Martha’s Vineyard, beech leaf disease has now spread across most of the up-island towns, and is expected to soon afflict the entire island.

I believe that beech leaf disease will kill most of the beeches at Cedar Tree Neck Sanctuary and on our other sanctuaries. This is certainly nature taking its course, but I do find that I have developed a sentimental attachment to some of these trees.

Who does not love the stunted grove of American beeches along the red-blazed Obed Daggett Trail, on the way out to the beach? Who does not delight in the refreshing, deep summer shade of American beeches on the Elinor Moore Irvin Trail? Who does not marvel at their smooth, elephantine bark?

Yet you still have time. We know the beeches are likely dying, yet for now, they live. They offer the chance to avoid that “if only” regret. The beeches beckon. Go to them.

While you can, go to Cedar Tree Neck Sanctuary, or to the Stephen R. Crampton Trail, or to any other woodland where American beeches grow.

Go, and spend a moment or two among the beeches. Touch their smooth stems. Pause, in what remains of their shade, and bid farewell.

Dedicated to my dear friend, Gregory
Weyerhaeuser Piasecki, 1970-2023.