The Last Vestiges of the Darby Plains

Of all the natural landscapes and ecosystems Ohio had to offer around the time of European settlement, none have seen the same systematic destruction and removal quite like our prairies.  Over 99% of Ohio's indigenous tall grass prairie has succumbed to the activities of man or the inevitable march of natural succession.  You thought over 90% of our state's wetlands being lost was bad, the prairies have statistically had it worse.  Originally representing nearly 5% (or 1,500 square miles) of Ohio's vegetation at the time of settlement, these open, grass-dominated ecosystems are relatively new to Ohio from a geologic viewpoint and came into existence around four to eight thousand years ago during a shift to a warmer, drier climate.  This change disrupted and discouraged reforestation's northward advancement post Wisconsin glaciation and allowed the western tall grass prairie to migrate east through Illinois, Indiana and into Ohio.  Gradually the climate returned to a more cool and wet cycle and forestation picked back up as the prairies were invaded and recolonized by the trees.

Considering how fast open grassland can revert to shrubs-saplings and on into young forest, we have to thank in large part the Native American tribes that lived in western/northern Ohio for keeping our prairies around.  They played a huge role in maintaining these grassland habitats with their frequent use of fire.  They realized wild game was more attracted to the lush new-growth of burned areas and the open environment made hunting them easier and more successful.  This led to a consistent fire regime that kept the woody invaders at bay and a key aspect to their livelihoods healthy and intact.  Naturally-occurring fires from the likes of lightning strikes did occur historically but hardly at the same interval and efficiency as the native people's.  Without their influence, I highly doubt any substantial tracts of prairie would have persisted up until the time of settlement.  I can only imagine what it must have been like to gaze out at an almost never-ending expanse of grasses and the occasional tree with herds of grazers like bison and elk spread out across its vastness or seeing a hot and intense prairie fire speed across the ground with flames licking 15-20 feet into the sky.

The first pioneers found these open tracts of tall warm season grasses, occasional oaks and hickories, and colorful summer wildflowers to be quite formidable and were initially ignored for their lack of trees.  The early thought was any land that didn't support forest was infertile and not worth the time or effort to farm.  If only that assumption had never been questioned.  Once that mindset was reversed and the prairie's deep, rich black soil was bitten into by the steel plow and drained with tile, it wasn't long before it had all but disappeared and turned into modern prairie monocultures of corn, soybeans, and wheat.

Gazing out across the wildflower bonanza at Bigelow Prairie 

It's not all doom and gloom as within that 1% fraction of tall grass prairie left are some true gems.  

Inside the Darby Plains of west-central Ohio lies arguably some of the grandest of our state's last vestiges of grassland. Formally encompassing nearly 400 square miles of land between Columbus and Springfield, the Darby Plains sit on a flattened to gently undulating landscape of glacial till dissected by a handful of waterways; none more well-known and pristine than the Big and Little Darby Creeks.  These waterways are registered as both state and national scenic rivers and widely regarded as one of the most biologically diverse aquatic systems in the entire Midwest.

The Darby Plains current state of existence consists almost solely of tiny, widely scattered parcels of prairie remnants rarely larger than an acre.  Perhaps the most famous of all is a pioneer cemetery known as Bigelow Prairie state nature preserve.  Early settlers used the site to bury their passed loved ones, with some of the graves dating back to the early 1800's.  Since the cemetery was never plowed or grazed, its indigenous prairie flora was able to survive and thrive within the half acre plot.  This ended up resulting in one of the most spectacular shows of summer wildflowers in the entire state as you'll see next.

Prairie obligate wildflowers in full glorious bloom.

Bigelow prairie really comes to life during the month of July and exhibits a month long fireworks display almost unparalleled anywhere else.  Vibrant yellows, reds, purples and pinks explode out of the surrounding greenery and make even the most novice wildflower admirer's mouth hang agape.

Royal Catchfly (Silene regia)

Nothing on the Darby Plains will catch the eye and keep its attention quite like the scarlet flowers of the state threatened royal catchfly (Silene regia).  If there's a wildflower in the plant kingdom with a more rich and mesmerizing shade of red, I'd certainly like to see it.  Today, this stunning wildflower hangs on in a handful of Darby Plains localities with none nicer than the display at Bigelow cemetery.

Gorgeous display of Purple Coneflower (Echinacea purpurea)

If the royal catchfly is the star of Bigelow cemetery, then the purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea) is its equivalent at nearby Smith cemetery prairie.  Their purple umbrella-like flowers seem to glow in the dappled shade of the surrounding bur oaks.

Prairie wildflowers at Bigelow Cemetery Prairie

Prairie wildflowers at Bigelow Cemetery Prairie

One can only imagine the sight that must have met the early settlers and pioneers as they broke out of the surrounding forest and were greeted by the large expanse of open prairie.  grey-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata), ox-eye sunflower (Heliopsis helianthoides), wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), whorled rosinweed (Silphium trifoliatum) and prairie dock (S. terebinthinaceum) were all common associates of the Darby Plains and persist in its remnants today.

Scurf Pea (Orbexilum onobrychis)

Prairie Dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum)

A closer look under the larger and showier prairie plants reveals a hidden world of diversity that one can easily overlook.  The unique scurf pea (Orbexilum onobrychis), otherwise known as sainfoin or French-grass, is one of the more inconspicuous denizens in these prairies.

Prairie or Sullivant's Milkweed (Asclepias sullivantii)

The bubblegum pink flower umbels of Sullivant's milkweed (Asclepias sullivantii) is one the surest signs you're in a region of former tall grass prairie within the buckeye state.  Like many other prairie obligates in the region, this milkweed is much more common in the western Midwest and Great Plains and is at the eastern fringes of its range in the Darby and Sandusky Plains of Ohio.

Culver's Root (Veronicastrum virginicum)

Savanna Blazing Star (Liatris scariosa)

In the more high quality and intact remnants of the Darby Plains are species like Culver's root (Veronicastrum virginicum) and savanna blazing star (Liatris scariosa var. nieuwlandii).  Both happen to be some of my favorite prairie wildflowers and add a touch of color and class to any prairie scene. Unfortunately, the savanna blazing star seems to be disappearing across the state and was recently added to our rare plant list.

Virginia Bunchflower (Melanthium virginicum)

Another high quality species known from the Darby Plains is the stunning Virginia bunchflower (Melanthium virginicum).  I hope to be corrected and/or proven wrong but I believe this species to be extirpated from the region in this day and age and only lives on in diverse and carefully managed prairie plantings.  It's a shame the prettiest plants tend to be the most fragile and finicky.

Prairie Ironweed (Vernonia fasciculata)

Nigh on joining the aforementioned Virginia bunchflower in disappearing from west-central Ohio's prairie landscape is the state-endangered prairie ironweed (Vernonia fasciculata).  Its narrow, almost linear leaves, relatively glabrous (hairless) and short nature, and compacted flower heads help separate this rarity from the weedy common ironweed (V. gigantea).

Pearl King Oak Savanna in Madison County

In spots where trees like oaks and hickories congregated above the tall warm season grasses was a habitat known as a savanna.  The Darby Plains was prehistorically dotted with these scattered groves of bur, white, and post oaks and just about all met their fates decades, even centuries ago.  Thankfully, one site in Madison county known as Pearl King oak grove has survived to this day.  Enormous, venerable bur and white oaks sit as silent sentinels overlooking the dense sea of grasses and forbs.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans)

Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardii)

Although never touched by a settler's plow, Pearl King was used for grazing and pasture in the past which did a thorough job of erasing many of the region's quintessential prairie forbs within.  That being said, Pearl King makes up for it in its assortment and diversity of warm season grass communities.  Species such as big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii), little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium), Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), prairie cordgrass (Spartina pectinata), and switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) all occur within.

Prairie Dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis)

Prairie Cordgrass (Spartina pectinata)

Arguably Pearl King's most valuable treasure is the presence of the aforementioned prairie dropseed.  This state threatened prairie obligate grass has never been recorded from anywhere else in the state than the Darby Plains and exists in its greatest numbers in this spectacular oak grove remnant.  Prairie dropseed is very sensitive to soil disturbance and likely only occurs at Pearl King due to its lack of historical plowing.  It also happens to have a very pleasant aroma that reminds your narrator of cilantro.

Under the massive oaks in Pearl King

Standing under the stalwart oaks of Pearl King allows any visitor to travel back in time and get a small albeit powerful feel for what the landscape of the region was like before the dominion of the white man.  If only these venerable trees could talk and tell of the things they've seen over the centuries.

Prairie False Indigo (Baptisia lactea)

Prairie False Indigo (Baptisia lactea)

Yet another state rarity that still manages to call the prairies of west-central Ohio home is the stately and conspicuous prairie false indigo (Baptisia lactea).  This member of the pea or legume family (Fabaceae) can reach over four feet in height and impresses with its sprawling stem and lateral branches of large white flowers.  Its flowers are replaced with equally unique inflated pods that turn black as they mature.

Ragged Fringed Orchid (Platanthera lacera)

I'd be remiss if I concluded this post without mentioning at least one orchid, so I'll top this marathon of a read off with one of the few orchids that call our tall grass prairies home.  The ragged fringed orchid (Platanthera lacera) and its yellow-green appearance makes it one helluva plant to notice and hone in on while in the prairies; which makes this relatively common species all the more treasured of a find.

In the end, the Darby Plains of west-central Ohio is undoubtedly one of our state's best natural treasures.  With so much of its former grandeur long gone and lost forever, it becomes increasingly more important that we protect and manage what does remain for future generations to visit and enjoy.  Natural succession, invasive species, agricultural practices, and climate change will only continue to put pressure on these fragile and fragmented habitats.  I highly encourage any of my readers to get out and see these last vestiges of the Darby Plains for themselves in our state nature preserves and Columbus metroparks.  Spots like Bigelow and Smith cemetery prairie, Milford Center prairie, Pearl King oak grove, railroad right-of-ways (and subsequent bike paths), Prairie Oaks metropark, and Battelle Darby Creek metropark are all can't miss places during the mid-late summer months and on into fall.

Early Spring on Daughmer Savanna

Of all the natural landscapes and ecosystems Ohio had to offer around the time of European settlement, none have seen the same systematic destruction and removal quite like our prairies.  Over 99% of Ohio's indigenous tall grass prairie has succumbed to the activities of man or the inevitable march of natural succession.  You thought over 90% of our state's wetlands being lost was bad, the prairies have statistically had it worse.  Originally representing nearly 5% of Ohio's vegetation at the time of settlement, these open, grass-dominated ecosystems are relatively new to Ohio from a geologic viewpoint and came into existence around 4000-8000 years ago during a shift to a warmer, drier climate.  This change disrupted and discouraged reforestation's northward advancement post-Wisconsin glaciation and allowed the western tall grass prairie to migrate east through Illinois, Indiana and into Ohio.  Gradually the climate returned to a more cool and wet cycle and forestation picked back up as the prairies were invaded and recolonized by the trees.

Considering how fast open grassland can revert to shrubs-saplings and on into young forest, we have to thank in large part the Native American tribes that lived in western/northern Ohio for keeping our prairies around.  They played a huge role in maintaining these grassland habitats with their frequent use of fire.  They realized wild game was more attracted to the lush new-growth of burned areas and the open environment made hunting them easier and more successful.  This led to a consistent fire regime that kept the woody invaders at bay and a key aspect to their livelihoods healthy and intact.  Naturally-occurring fires from the likes of lightning strikes did occur historically but hardly at the same interval and efficiency as the native people's.  Without their influence, I highly doubt any substantial tracts of prairie would have persisted up until the time of settlement.  I can only imagine what it must have been like to gaze out at an almost never-ending expanse of grasses and the occasional tree with herds of grazers like bison and elk spread out across its vastness, let alone seeing a hot and intense prairie fire speed across the ground with flames licking 15-20 feet into the sky.  Sigh...too many invaluable things have been lost to the sands of time.

The first pioneers found these open tracts of tall warm season grasses, occasional oaks and hickories, and colorful summer wildflowers to be quite formidable and were initially ignored for their lack of trees.  The early thought was any land that didn't support forest was infertile and not worth the time or effort to farm.  If only that assumption had never been questioned.  Once that mindset was reversed and the prairie's deep, rich black soil was bitten into by the steel plow and drained with tile, it wasn't long before it had all but disappeared and turned into modern prairie monocultures of corn, soybeans, and wheat.

Botanists Rick Gardner and Dan Boone walking through Daughmer Prairie in early spring

However, that less than 1% of indigenous prairie hanging around is still out there and few, if any place(s) are better and more representative than Daughmer Prairie Savanna state nature preserve in Crawford county. Daughmer occurs in the former grandeur of the Sandusky Plains that once sprawled out over 200,000 acres in north-central Ohio. Only 70 or so acres of the Sandusky Plains remain and nearly half of its vestiges reside in Daughmer Prairie.

The photos that accompany this post were taken in late March of 2012 during a visit by your blogger and good friends in Ohio's Division of Natural Areas and Preserves' chief botanist Rick Gardner and the oft-mentioned and brilliant Daniel Boone.  Spring came fast and early that year and I recall this day, despite the chilled and gloomy look of the landscape, being in the 80s and a sweat-inducer, which is something I was certainly not used to so early in the season.  The darkened skies may be still and silent in the photos but lightning and thunder was discharged out of the swirling and churning blackness during our foray into the savanna and it made for a very memorable and electric experience.

Early spring on Daughmer Prairie Savanna as a line of thunderstorms move in.

Daughmer isn't what you would label as a true-blue tall grass prairie ecosystem but rather a prairie savanna due to its host of numerous bur oak trees.  Savannas existed at the tension zones between the prairie and recolonizing forest as well as in areas where fire did enough to drive off most woody/shrubby invaders but left some of the more fire-resistant trees behind to grow and mature.  The bur oak (Quercus macrocarpa) is the classic and quintessential tree of Ohio's prairies and savannas with white oak (Q. alba), post oak (Q. stellata) and shagbark hickory (Carya ovata) the other common denizens.  In wet-saturated areas you might see more swamp white oak (Q. bicolor) while in the sandier, more xeric and acidic savanna (e.g. the Oak Openings) black oak (Q. velutina) dominate.

Dan standing with a mighty bur oak

Some of Daughmer Savanna's bur oaks approach and exceed three and four feet in diameter and have been aged to over 250 years old.  A few more than likely experienced a trial by fire as saplings during the last waning rounds of burns set by the Native Americans before their removal and/or demise at the hands of European settlement. Bur oak's thick, rigid bark can stand up to the fast but intensely hot grassland fires and often times boast scars as proof of their tenacity and brawn.  Without any significant competition from neighboring trees, oaks on the savannas grew stout and sprawled their limbs outward in a wide sweeping fashion, their leaves' photosynthesis factories humming along at peak.  Standing under these behemoths with the summer sun streaming through the emerald canopies and the robust scent of earth on the air is as refreshing a moment as exists in the natural world.

Seasonal wetlands and prairie potholes occur in parts of Daughmer and only add to the diversity of the site.

Despite looking and more-or-less being flat and unchanging as can be, Daughmer has a surprising variance in its hydrology.  On the more dry and well-drained soils you find a typical mixture of warm-season grasses such as big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii), Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium), and switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) mixed with forbs and sedges such as the rare Eleocharis compressa and Carex bicknellii.  Moving into more moist-wet prairie finds an association of prairie cordgrass (Spartina pectinata) or bluejoint (Calamogrostis canadensis) and muhly-grass (Muhlenbergia mexicana) pocketed with seasonal wetland sedge meadows and small prairie pothole marshes.  Looking out across its landscape and you wouldn't think a place with "only grass" could be home to such a diversity of plant and animal life.

Rick standing in the shadows of the approaching storm

Prairie savanna is not only incredibly rare in the state of Ohio but is considered a globally rare community as well, which makes protecting these places all the more important.  Thankfully, the Ohio Division of Natural Areas and Preserves recently purchased this plot of land to give it a much more secure and bright future.  Daughmer's soils have never been plowed and remain a virgin of its steel to this day, but was used extensively for grazing cattle and sheep in the past.  This led to an extirpation of many summer wildflower species and opened the door for non-native invasives like teasel (Dipsacus fullonum) to establish but was a small price to pay for keeping this gem around and impressively intact otherwise.

Daughmer was recently dedicated as a state nature preserve and is open to the public year-round.  I encourage anyone with an interest in our natural history and a desire for a small glimpse back into the past to pay it a visit regardless of the time of year.  You can find directions to the preserve HERE.

A point worth mentioning here is that when the Division of Natural Areas and Preserves bought this land, the money used was solely from DNAP's donated income tax check-off funds.  In other words, you, the citizens and nature-caring/conscious/loving/appreciating/etc. people of Ohio all came together to make this possible.  Since its inception in 1983, over $16 million dollars have been donated and used to protect our state's natural treasures!

Opposite Seasons at Gallagher Fen

A few months back when this overly cold and precipitous winter was just beginning to sink its teeth into Ohio's landscape, your blogger decided to pay a visit to one of his most cherished natural areas in the entire state for a new experience of an old favorite.  I've lost track on the amount of times I've visited Gallagher Fen state nature preserve during the humid, wildflower-filled summer and early fall months but a winter hike had always escaped my mind.

Looking east across the western fen opening backed by a glacial esker

Gallagher Fen is home to some of the best prairie fen habitat left in Ohio, as well as nice examples of bur oak savanna and mature upland oak/hickory forest.  Much like the area's numerous other fen openings and complexes, Gallagher Fen owes its existence and future to the continued flow and percolation of cold, alkaline groundwater to the surface.  Following the last glacial event around 10-12,000 years ago, this region of Ohio's old waterways and river valleys were left full of glacial till and were subsequently filled with meltwater. These ancient, saturated subterranean river valleys are what we call aquifers and are the lifeblood for west central Ohio's fens to this day.

Standing in the western fen meadow looking east across the marl meadow, backed by bur oak savanna on the esker

The glaciers didn't just influence the hydrology of Gallagher Fen but the topography and geology as well.  What appears to be a hill at the back of the western fen meadow pictured above is actually a long, winding ridge of stratified gravel and sand called an esker.  Eskers, such as the one found here are formed during a glacier's recession as gushing meltwater from in/under the ice sheet deposits the rocky debris along its course.

Aerial photograph of Gallagher Fen with the glacial esker outlined in brown

The aerial photograph above shows the preserve's two fen openings and also highlights the glacial esker that forms the northern backbone for the west and east fen meadows.  The 55 degree, calcium-carbonate laden groundwater seeps from the base of the esker and flows down into the bowl-like fen meadows where other small rivulets come together to form a spring-fed stream that drains out the bottoms of both openings.

Bur oak savanna perched on the esker above the eastern fen meadow

Perched above the cold, saturated fen openings on the slopes and crest of the gravel esker is the curious habitat of a bur oak savanna.  The rocky, shallow, fast-draining soils atop the esker created an ideal situation for prairie plants and their accompanying bur, white, and post oaks to occur and persist.  My newly-minted winter experience allowed a better appreciation and observation of the gnarled, venerable oaks rising above the beige sea of desiccated and dispersed seed heads underneath.  These trees have undoubtedly seen their fair share of winters thaw into spring.

Queen-of-the-prairie blooming in the fen meadows against a bur oak background

Summer is hands down the best time to experience our alkaline prairie fen environments and it's not hard to surmise why. From early June into September their mucky meadows are alive with wildflowers, grasses, and sedges all going about their reproductive duties, completely oblivious to their Homo sapiens observers and admirers.

As my boots sank into the marl and muck of the deadened sedge meadows during my winter escape into Gallagher, I realized I had a unique opportunity on this isolated occasion to compare and contrast this spectacular ecosystem between the two extremes of summer and winter.  So upon my return home, I did my best to find opposite season photographs of the same corresponding capture and I came away rather pleased with the results that you can see below.

Looking west atop the west fen meadow's esker among the summer prairie wildflowers

One of the best views in the 200+ acre preserve is located atop the esker looking west across the western fen meadow.  The bowl-like depression of the meadow is more evident from this vantage point and allows you to immerse yourself in a medley of purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea), grey-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata), and whorled rosinweed (Silphium trifoliatum) come July.  Other botanical oddities and rarities like the state-threatened prairie thimbleweed (Anemone cylindracea) and the state-endangered prairie violet (Viola pedatifida) occur along the gravel-ridden slopes of the bur oak savanna as well.

View of the perched bur oak savanna in the east fen meadow

It's not everyday you can visit a spot in Ohio, or many other places where two unique and equally fascinating habitats of such variety and contrast like fens and savannas merge.  The sludgy, saturated soils of the fen meadow support fen Indian plantain (Arnoglossum platagineum), sticky tofieldia (Triantha glutinosa), wand-lily (Zigadenus elegans), Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), queen-of-the-prairie (Filipendula rubra), nodding ladies'-tresses (Spiranthes cernua), and Ohio goldenrod (Oligoneuron ohioense) right up to the base of the esker and its groundwater seeps.

The stark contrast of the prairie dock in the western fen meadow and marl bed.

Perhaps the most impressive floral display to be found at Gallagher is the annual summer flaunting of prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum) in the western fen meadow's marl bed.  Hundreds, if not thousands of flowering stems rise over your head and are adorned with golden yellow stars that shine in the July and August sun.  It's truly a sight to behold and take in with your own eyes.  It's hard to believe so much green, life, and growth pictured on the left turns to ashes come winter, only to come back to life in the waxing temperatures and sunlight of summer.

You may be wondering how a plant species so adapted to dry, barren-like soil and habitat conditions like the prairie dock could survive, let alone thrive in the saturated muck of a marl bed.  This odd occurrence is due to the fact that plants have a hard time absorbing water and nutrients from the very chilled water of the fen meadow and thus react as if living in a more dry, drought-prone environment.  This is why so many of our fen complexes in west central Ohio have a strong prairie association in them, hailing back to the influence of the prairie peninsula some 4-8,000 years ago during a period of a warmer/drier climate.

Looking east out across the western fen opening and its spring-fed channels

If looking west across the western fen meadow from atop the esker is one of Gallagher's best spectacles, then the same must be said for the reciprocal of that view.  The great expanse of sedge meadow, raised hummocks scattered among the rivulets, and mucky marl bed are home to dozens of intriguing and rare plants such as grass of parnassus (Parnassia glauca), twigrush (Cladium mariscoides), blue-leaved willow (Salix myricoides), Carex flava, C. viridula, C. sterilis, C. buxbaumii, tufted hairgrass (Deschampsia cespitosa), Kalm's lobelia (Lobelia kalmii), round-leaved sundew (Drosera rotundifolia), low nutrush (Scleria verticillata), horned bladderwort (Utricularia cornuta), and Canadian burnet (Sanguisorba canadensis) for starters.  An advantage to my mid-December visit was being able to see the esker much more clearly and defined at the back of the fen meadow. Lush growth and greenery block the view most other times of the year.

Realistically, I could do a whole series of posts dedicated to the beauty and biological diversity of this gem of a nature preserve but this at least gives you a beginner's look at what an incredible and mesmerizing site Gallagher Fen is.  Despite some confusion, this preserve is indeed open to the public nowadays and I could not encourage you to get out and immerse yourself in its wonders more, regardless of the time of year.  Which is something I can officially say with validity after my winter excursion into its depths!

A Tribute to Some Tremendous Trees

Everyone remembers the first time they experienced the emotion of falling in love.  That moment of realization and cognizance that nothing else can compare to what you have grown to hold so dear.  If you're lucky those feelings never fade and only increase exponentially as time inevitably marches forward.  For your blogger it was trees that first tugged at his heart strings, botanically-speaking, of course.

Trees are the modern day kings of the vascular plant world and among the most massive and oldest individual (and clonal) organisms on the face of our planet.  There's just something about them that has kindled respect and astonishment from me at even a young age.  Whether reacquainting myself with an old friend who has seen many a spring thawing and winter's chill or gazing upon a stately stranger I've only just met, each moment spent under their sprawling ceiling of limbs, branches, and twigs is precious.  Their role and importance in any ecosystem cannot be understated and without them the world would be without us and millions of other beings. Trees truly are the heart and soul of our natural world.

In my travels both near and far, I've always kept a keen eye open for any spectacular individuals that just beg to be documented with the camera.  Rarely does any photograph ever truly forge or recreate the same awestruck feeling of disbelief and/or amazement as in person but I've done my best pick out those that at least try their very hardest.  The character and personality these mighty wooden sentinels are capable of displaying are not unlike our own as human beings when you take the time to notice.  Trees are the ultimate prize of time, patience, and opportunity.

One of the largest Sitka spruce trees left on the planet

Let's start off with a bang and an experience that left me feeling rather small and immensely humbled.  This monstrosity of a conifer on the Olympic peninsula of Washington state is one of the largest Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis) trees left on the planet.  It's thought to be over one thousand years old and is still packing on more and more wood annually.  For more on this tree and other virgin temperate rain forest giants, you can check out the post about my visit to this lush land HERE.

Forest-grown white oak in Gross Woods

Old-growth bitternut hickory

I often times enjoy making an attempt to liken the feel of my current-day photographs to that of a time over a century earlier with a black and white scheme.  It gives the slight impression of what it might have felt like to stand next to the leviathans long lost to the saw and ax.  It's a sad reality that we lose these relics of the past much faster and more frequently than nature can replace them; especially in a time where land development and alteration is occurring at an ever-accelerating pace.

Blogger and the great white oak of Logan, Ohio

Few trees leave me more breathless than the Great White Oak in the old cemetery of Logan, Ohio.  If someone knows of a plumper, more impressive tree specimen in the state I'd love to see it because I can't imagine many could ever compare.  Estimates put this tree at near/over 500 years old.  That's 500 years of Mother Nature's fury combined with human development and stress that hasn't seemed to slow this gargantuan beast down. Giving this white oak a hug should be on every nature-appreciating Ohioan's bucket list!

Ancient white pine in the Adirondack Mountains

Ancient white pines in the Adirondacks of NY

A road trip to the southern Adirondacks of upstate New York a couple summers ago introduced me to some genuine Northeast white pines (Pinus strobus) that I will never forget.  White pine has long been a treasured and renowned species for its tall, straight growth habit that was perfect for ship building.  Subsequently, almost all the old-growth pine stands in New England met their sawmill fates well over a century ago with very few groves still remaining.  The tree pictured top left is believed to be one of the largest/oldest white pine's left in the Adirondacks at over 350 years old and 150'+ tall!

Giant white cedar on South Manitou Island in Lake Michigan

Nestled in a remote corner of South Manitou Island in Lake Michigan survives a small grove of virgin white cedars (Thuja occidentalis) that have reached unbelievable dimensions like the one shown here.  In fact, the largest white cedar on Earth once called this small island home before falling over in a violent storm not too long ago. Perhaps this one here is its successor?

Old-growth beech in a SE Indiana wet flatwoods

An ancient beech at Fort Hill in Highland Co., OH

Few trees have the same look and feel as the timeless beech (Fagus grandifolia) in my opinion.  Their smooth, ghostly grey trunks always seem to emit a warm glow in the shade of the forest.

An exceptional tuliptree from southern Ohio

If the white pine is the monarch of the conifers in Eastern North America, then the tuliptree or tulip poplar (Liriodendron tulipifera) is the monarch of its broadleaf brethren.  This fast-growing but potentially long-lived species is the tallest angiosperm we have in our eastern forests and once scraped the heavens at over 200 feet tall in the primeval forests.  Today, it doesn't reach nearly as high but 180'+ specimens do exist.  This particular tuliptree from southern Ohio exhibits the remarkable diameters these behemoths are also known for.

Impressive red oak in Glen Helen

Single-stem sycamore of nice proportions

Not exactly record-setters but this red oak and sycamore from the Yellow Springs area are hardly anything to ignore.  Single-stem sycamores of this size aren't an every day sight anymore despite trees like this (and much bigger) were nearly a dime a dozen along our waterways in pre-settlement times.

Dan Boone and Rick Gardner walking through Daughmer Oak Savanna in Crawford Co., Ohio

Few places instill the flavor and atmosphere of a pre-settlement western Ohio like the few oak savannas we have left in our state.  For centuries many a stalwart bur, white, and/or post oak watched over the open, seasonally wet grasslands that once pocketed the glaciated Wisconsin till plain before man's plow bit into its virgin sod...

Massive bur oak on a Columbus-area golf course

Not even a rare appearance on the golf course can distract your blogger from noticing the ancient monoliths of Ohio's past.  This hardy bur oak had its roots in the soil long before carts whizzed past without so much as a glance from their occupants.  Standing next to this particular giant gave me pause when I considered its view of tall grass prairie choked full of spectacular summer wildflowers was only a distant memory and forever lost to the past.  Just goes to show that nothing ever stays the same, even for a tree.

Huge white ash in a west-central Ohio woodlot

Giant bur oak in Goll Woods in NW Ohio

However, it's not all doom and gloom as even in a heavily farmed and developed state like Ohio, some woodlots still persist with scattered individuals linking the present to our storied past.  The white ash (Fraxinus americana) pictured above left is the largest single trunked specimen I've yet seen even if its crown is largely dead and/or missing.  Bur oaks like the one above are a mesmerizing sight upon entering one of the last vestiges of the Great Black Swamp in Goll Woods state nature preserve in extreme northwest Ohio.

Largest black walnut the blogger has ever laid eyes on

Even better is coming across an example of a tree species you could barely believe still exists in such dimensions. Black walnuts (Juglans nigra) were, and still are quick to be harvested for their very valuable and beautiful wood and thus hard to find in a large size.  While not prime lumber grade, this particular black walnut in Buck Creek state park was and still is by far the largest I've ever laid eyes on.  

Snow covered scene in Davey Woods state nature preserve

The winter woods and its bare, skeletal canopy is a silent testament to nature's beauty no matter the season.  The forest seems to speak and beckon you in with its creaks and groans emitting from the chilled air.  Each tree set against the snow becomes an individual with a unique story and form and a tranquility to it all that words can't quite touch.

Old-growth swamp chestnut oak/sweet gum/beech woods in southeastern Indiana

A lovely example of an old-growth wet flat woods in southeastern Indiana full of trees three to four feet in diameter and rocketing over 100' into the sky.  Swamp chestnut oak, sweet gum, and beech are the primary occupants with thick, stout trunks that are slow to taper as they ascend.

Dan Boone and a mighty swamp chestnut oak

Looking up the column of the same oak

The most impressive denizens of this particular wet flat woods were the swamp chestnut oaks (Quercus michauxii), a species that doesn't quite make it north/east enough to occur in Ohio.  My good friend and brilliant botanist, Dan Boone poses next to one of the largest specimens of them all with the accompanying photograph showing the incredible volume of wood reaching into the heavens.

Exceptional sweetgum from SE Indiana

But then again, the sweetgums (Liquidambar styraciflua) in the same woods and other nearby old-growth flat woods aren't anything to pass over either!

I could go on and on in sharing my favorite trees but I will end it with one of the most impressive trees (height-wise) I've yet seen.  This shellbark hickory (Carya laciniosa) from another wet flat woods in southeastern Indiana is estimated at over 150' tall and three feet in diameter.  I'd love to get back out with the necessary tools and information to get a more educated height but regardless it's one imposing tree!  It's hard to fathom how this tree has survived who knows how many winter storms, squall lines, and ice events to still astound this tree-loving botanist today!