The Red Oak

My favourite tree at KSR is an oak that my friend Norma identified as a red oak (Quercus rubra) for its pointed leaves. It stands beside the road that leads to the ponds and the gazebo, just behind a split-rail fence. It has three trunks … or is it in fact three trees? I don’t know if it was planted or simply took root there.

I first noticed the tree late last fall, and recognized it as an oak because it still had small clumps of brown leaves clinging to it. Other trees were completely bare. Its shape was lovely, so I photographed it, from both sides.

Those remaining leaves made a good rustling sound as the wind passed over them and I liked the way its branches seemed to reach out, some of them joining the split rail fence to frame the field and pond and gazebo. 

I’ve done a little web trolling for information about the red oak. It grows from Lake Superior eastward across northern and central Ontario—and on through Quebec to Nova Scotia, as well as in the northeastern US. But its numbers have been diminishing and I haven’t found an explanation for that decrease, although the lack of fire may be a factor in its not regenerating naturally.

I’ve learned that red oak and pine have co-existed with varying dominance over very long periods of time, but found nothing about the relationship between them or the reasons for their growing in association. And I wonder if this co-existence is some form of collaboration. I also found out that red oaks bear large acorns that take two years to develop—and that they produce bumper crops of acorns about every four years with only small numbers in between. These acorns are an important food for deer, squirrels, foxes, mice, bears, ruffed grouse, wood ducks, and others.

I’ve come to watch for the KSR red oak, waiting for it to appear as I go round a curve and up a slight rise in the road. Because it stands as a solitary tree (unless it is three trees) its complete shape is visible. The oak’s branches seem to hold both the light and the sky behind it. I’m taking photos of it in different lights and weather—and I think I’ll hunt up some books on the red oak to see what more is known about it.