When my wife and I bought the land to build our house over 50 years ago, a big oak tree stood out among the rest of the trees on the property. We decided to have our home built near it.
It was no ordinary tree. Two oak trees had grown together at the trunk many years ago. Over the years, it grew into a giant old oak tree. It was massive in circumference and stood well over 100 feet tall. The shade it provided and the oxygen it produced were invaluable to us over the years.
Six other oaks are in our backyard. Two oak trees are in front of our house. All are big, all our old, but none were as old, or as big as the giant old oak tree. It stood out among all the other oaks, maple trees, redbuds, buckeyes, dogwoods, spruce, and pine trees. Their autumn colors added beauty to our yard.
The giant old oak tree was always a favorite place for the birds. They built their nests, raised their babies, and sang their songs. The squirrels enjoyed the acorns it provided. They also built nests in it. Gathering up all the leaves every fall was a chore. Picking up small limbs that fell in our yard and driveway was a pain. My wife and I loved that giant old oak tree.
One year, I made a birdhouse and painted it white. Then I put a Wisconsin red “W” on it. It hung on the side of the tree where we could see it every time we drove up our driveway. It reminded us of our youngest son, his wife, and grandsons who live in Wisconsin.
When our grandkids who live nearby were little, they enjoyed a rope swing tied to one of its limbs. It also served as a backdrop for many kids and grandkids’ pictures. It was a witness to many basketball games. It was like an old friend.
Several years ago, at the bottom of it, I noticed a hole and fungi growing around the base. I called an arborists. He told me it wasn’t anything to worry about, and the tree would live for many more years. I was glad, but he was wrong.
The hole kept getting bigger. Black ants moved in and started eating the wood. Fungi kept coming back around the base. I called another arborists. His concern was that the massive roots were rotting underground. If they were, and strong winds or an ice storm came along, the tree would crush most of our house.
A neighbor up the road has a tree-trimming business. We hired him to do the job. I told him to cut it down and leave some of the wood so I could use it in our wood-burning stove. Then haul the big logs away.
On the day they were coming to cut down our old friend, I was out early that morning taking pictures to remember it. I stood there for a long time just looking at it. I admit, there was a lump in my throat and maybe a little tear in the corner of my eye.
As they started, I couldn’t watch. I went to my workshop and tried to keep busy. I turned up the radio. I did not want to hear the saws. When the saws went silent, I stepped out and looked at where the tree used to be. They had already moved and stacked all the wood I wanted to keep. I would spend a lot of time cutting, splitting, and stacking. The giant old tree would now keep us warm for several winters.
I had asked for their final cut to be right above where the two oaks had grown together so many years ago. The stump was almost six feet tall. I stood on a big rock to get high enough to count the tree rings. I wanted to know how old it was. When I finished counting, I did it again to make sure. It was over 200 years old.
I stood there and imagined a squirrel burying two acorns at this spot back in the early 1800s. Like most squirrels, he probably forgot where he buried them. Maybe the squirrel died from a Native American Indian arrow before he found them. The acorns eventually sprouted and pushed their way up through the soil. The two little trees grew closer together until eventually they became our giant old oak tree.
I thought about that, and I went into the house and got on my computer. I started searching for what it was like in this part of America when the giant old oak started its life. I wondered what that tree could have told me about what it had seen and heard back then.
My research revealed that the tree would have been here when the Osage Indians lived where our home now sits. It was still a young tree when the white settlers came to the land of the Osage. They built cabins and fences out of the trees and cut them down for firewood. For some reason, they left it alone, and it continued to grow.
The first documented record of someone owning the land that I could find was the Southwest Pacific Railroad in 1852. They never put railroad tracks on the land where a road is now. In 1883, it was divided into parcels of farm land and sold.
There were several dark marks among the tree rings. The tree cutters said it was where barbed wire fencing had been attached to the tree. Counting the rings from those marks to the outside told me there was probably a farm here sometime in the early 1920s.
I have always thought there was a barn here at one time. I have found rusted old wire and nails around the property. The dirt is blacker in some places than in the rest of our land. That tells me there was a farm here at one time. A gentlemen from our church later confirmed to me that his grandfather once had a farm there.
Later, it was divided into lots for houses. In 1972, my wife and I bought a lot and built the house we still live in today. Back then, there were very few other houses around. I hunted for deer and turkey in the woods behind us. I hunted rabbits in the fields with my sons. I searched for morel mushrooms in the woods. My boys and I caught fish in the pond up the road.
It was quieter then. Now, we hear people mowing, weed eaters, dogs barking, and kids playing. Today, no matter which direction we look, there are houses. The road out front is busy at times. There is no more hunting or fishing around our place. Life here has changed again.
For over 200 years, the old oak tree was there for the Osage, the settlers, the farmers, and us. It was part of their life, and part of ours. It was there as our kids and grandkids grew into adults. They still remember the rope swing hanging from the limb of the tree. They spent many hours playing on it. As my wife and I grew older, that tree was always there. Just like the tree, someday we will be gone too.
I often visit the giant stump. The Wisconsin bird house sits on it. One day, something caught my eye near the base of it. There, nourished and protected by decomposing leaves and the decomposing stump, were two oak seedlings growing close together. I wondered what they would see in their lifetime. Would they grow together? Would they eventually become a giant old oak tree?
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