Black Cottonwood; giver and keeper of life

Poplars have always held a particular fascination for me ever since, as a youngster, I discovered how essentially indestructible they are. The occasion was a nursery set-up in Holland, consisting of greenhouses (glass houses or hot houses (if they are warmed) as they call them here) with a small ditch running alongside and lined with medium sized poplars which had fallen over due to rodents gnarling at their roots. We pulled them up, cut away lumps and bumps from the root area, more or less cut a point at the bottom and simply stuck them back into the very wet ground, driving them as deep as we could by hand. Job done, twenty poplars processed and re-planted in about an hour and a half. And hoopla, they simply continued to grow, developing new root systems as if nothing had happened and carried on doing their job: providing a wind break and shelter for the greenhouses.

of course poplars were nothing new to me; we have them everywhere in Holland, in a multitude of varieties and shapes, just like that other perennial favourite, willows. But until this experience I had never really given them a second thought. They just were… And then I started to discover many other things about poplars. They provide food for deer (leaves and young shoots), rodents (well I knew that by now, rats, but also beaver), insects and birds, living and nesting spaces for a variety of birds and mammals in hollow or hollowed out sections, and all the time they carry on growing as if nothing is happening: “-oh well.. I can recover that bit or get around it, no worries. Welcome!” Selfless givers of life like no other.

I was reminded of this when recently I was invited to a Black Cottonwood tree falling ceremony. Unlike willow, of which we have a bunch of species here albeit mostly bushy rather than serious tree, we only have a rather limited number of varieties in this south western coastal part of BC, in particular Black Cottonwood (also called Western Balsam Poplar), Populus trichocarpa. Contrary to seemingly popular belief, probably due to confusion with the Eastern Black Poplar or the Black Poplar which is European and officially sits in the “cottonwood group”, whereas ours is also called “Black” but belongs in the “balsam group”, this is a species native to western North America. It is by far the largest of the North- American poplars, normally short-lived, although some are known to be as old as 400, relatively trivial when compared to what our cedars are capable of, but having a massive growth spurt, producing trees of between 30 and 50 m high in a relatively, for trees anyway, short time. And virtually indestructible, at least in wetter conditions. Leave some roots or stumps in, even some branches part buried on the ground after cutting it down or having been blown down, and it will re-establish itself. However it’s neatest trick is to shed branches with leaves and all, which then grow where they fell or if landing in streaming water, will get carried away to elsewhere and root where they eventually end up, a major mechanism for colonizing sand bars in rivers and streams and giving life to them.

it can do all of this because it has a very high levels of rooting hormones and a potentially massive but always highly efficient root system, capable of finding water, transferring it at ferocious speed up, into and out of the tree. And dry the surrounding ground out, at least during its life time, so it can be both a handy tree to have, and a real trouble maker, depending on where you are.

this root system also explains, what had always been a bit of a mystery for me until I really started thinking about and looking into it, why we find Black Cottonwood in the so much drier interior of BC, where our Red Cedar (Thuja plicata, a cypress actually, not a cedar) doesn’t grow as it is much too dry for them. If there is any available water about, Black Cottonwood will hunt it out, find it and use it. The root system grows to the extent it needs to find and soak up water, so in drier areas it is very much larger than in very wet areas. Red Cedar, the pride and joy of BC, isn’t quite as versatile or efficient in that respect, although more in others.

although economically Black Cottonwood is quite important, in terms of traditional use it is an “also ran”, when compared to Red Cedar here on the Coast, largely medicinal. Most certainly not for canoe building as it is too heavy and contains far too much water. We all know that here. Imagine the surprise then, when The Squamish First nation received a request from the Penticton Indian Band, one of the members of the Okanagan Nation Alliance, for permission to fall and take back to the Okanagan a very large Black Cottonwood tree here in Gibsons on the Sunshine Coast, which had been offered to them, to construct one, maybe two canoes out of. At first the request was met with incredulity, laughter and disbelief. We know that Cottonwood is patently unsuitable for canoes after all. Much too heavy and wet.

however our canoes here are sea-going canoes of course which need to ride high because of the waves, unlike canoes on freshwater lakes like Lake Okanagan. And given that they do not have cedar there what would they have used traditionally? Yup, Cottonwood. There is in fact a long tradition of that in the interior. The design is different, the paddles are shorter as the paddlers are sitting well below the waterline, but it works. For there. On freshwater. Or sweet water as we call it. So Council and Elders considered and agreed, but it had to be done properly, both Nations agreed, in full accordance with tradition and all respect the Cottonwood deserves. What followed was one of the most fascinating events I have ever had the privilege to attend, and I have attended quite a few in different parts of the world over the years…

the event started roundabout 10.00 am. With greetings, complimentary speeches about the individuals in question, reminders about the common ancestry, the brotherhood, the spiritual world we live in, our responsibilities towards each other and all that is alive, and singing of course. Lots of singing. Then the exchange of gifts between the two Nations.

much of the work required had already been carried out before then though. The day or so before. The tree had been prepared, not just by lopping off branches that would interfere with the falling and clearing the surroundings, but also prepared spiritually, the most important part of preparations. The Keeper of the Protocol of the Squamish Nation had explained to the tree what was going to happen, that it was going to die but would wake up and revive as one, maybe two canoes, all in support of a great and good work.

by about 12.30, after the beating of the new big drum which was part of the gift exchange, the ceremony slowly transferred to the tree itself where it was again honoured and reminded of its imminent death and revival, this time by the recipient Nation. And finally, after more singing, the chainsaw arrived, the only concession made to tradition, replacing the long and arduous work of cutting and localized burning of the stem to bring it down.

with an almighty bang, she fell down, shaking Mother Earth and making it tremble under our feet for hundreds of yards away. Later that day he or she was transferred to a truck and the following day made the long journey to the Okanagan, accompanied by the Keepers of the Protocol of the Nations, where another ceremony was to be held, welcoming it and prepare it for its future and the great work; the revival of the tradition of canoe building and the education of future generations. The keeping alive of the all-important traditions without which life makes no sense and there is no future for the community or the group. Only for individuals. And another ceremony on its revival and waking up as a canoe or canoes of course, when the great work has finished in a year or so time, and the new journey begins. Black Cottonwood, keeper of life.