Cottonwood Skeletons

I found and photographed these on my morning walk through the Windom Conservation Center. The first photograph is a dead skeleton still standing on its foot. There are no twigs on it with buds that promise spring growth. Even in Winter it is easy to tell a dead Cottonwood from a living one.

The bottom picture is a fallen dead Cottonwood that had to be cut so that it would not obstruct the walkway. I counted only 43 growth rings on it. Why was the lives of these two similar sized trees cut so short, yet I have a giant in my backyard about 200 years old?

It all relates to competition and opportunistic disease. This nature trail is full of Cottonwood. The cottonwood loves its feet to be wet. These dead ones sit up high on a built up bank. Also white spruce have been planted around by people that maintain the trail. Perhaps they died because the soil was disturbed.

Cottonwood groves start out dense along a water course, then thin out as other kinds of trees move in, until there are only a few very old venerable specimens left. If the mixed forest is washed away in a flood or chewed down by beavers, then the cottonwood cycle repeats itself. Cottonwoods are pioneer trees that start the riparian woodlands.

My Psalm 1 Tree

"1 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in His law doth he meditate day and and night.
3 And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. Psalm 1: 1-3


The above photo accompanying the quote is an enourmous Cottonwood in my backyard. This tree is a male pollen bearing Cottonwood. In spring he bombs us with stick resinous catkins, that if you venture out without shoes, you are left with black tarry stains on the soles of your feet. My family affectionately calls the fellow 'Bill' after a person of enourmous girth that my husband knew. The short haired woman in front of the tree is me. I stand 5-4. I am dwarfed by Bill's bulk. My husband and I took out a measuring tape. He measures 22 feet at his base. A lesser cottonwood, half his size, blown over by a tornado was 150 years old. How old is this guy? In Summer he still sports a lush crown.

Here is another picture of Bill with my son sitting on one of his limbs. This gives you an idea as to the enormity of this tree. My son is taller than me. Normally Cottonwoods live only 80 years, then they dry up or blow over. I remember when I lived in Colorado. There were numerous Cottonwoods there, dead on their feet, bleached white skeletons against the tawny landscape.

So what is Bill's secret? Behind the Cottonwood a mere 15 feet runs the Des Moines River. The town of Windom home to many very old Cottonwoods like Bill is built around the Des Moines. These trees receive a steady supply of moisture. Instead of fading around year 80, they continue to add growth rings and mature into very individual majestic trees. So I call this Cottonwood 'Bill' my Psalm 1 tree.