Canopy above

Oct. 17 10:30AM 62F

I've been wanting to explore different aspects of the mandala, different perspectives, different components. Today, I hoisted myself into the canopy of a large (70+ cm dbh) tulip tree that towers over the mandala and stream. I situated myself at the lower portion of the main canopy, maybe 70 ft above the mandala, and observed. Many of the trees around the mandala have taken on a bluish-green hue thanks to abundant lichen. The lichen extends the entire height of the tulip tree into the canopy. My untrained eye could easily distinguish at least three different types of lichens on the bole where I hung. Lichens are a fascinating symbiotic mutualism between algae (or cyanobacteria) and a fungus but operating largely as one. [I need someone to explain lichen taxonomy to me. I don't understand how a mutualism can be considered a species] I'm assuming that the relationship between the lichen and the tree is commensalistic, if the tree suffers no consequences of the lichen colonization on its bark (and the lichen benefits from this habitat). Is that a fair assumption? Are the trees negatively impacted by lichen? Does lichen abundance or coverage matter to the tree? I also find some moss on the tree bole and exits holes from pests (or possibly woodpecker holes trying to find pests). I'd really like to do a thorough exploration of the canopy food web sometime to get a better understanding of the community structure and function within the canopy. From previous searches, it appears as if there isn't much known about the food web in the eastern deciduous forest canopy, but it has been speculated that this community is in decline given forest fragmentation, invasive species, and climate change. I don't see much else up here though I do hear a pileated woodpecker not too far away and see a few other songbirds flittering about in the canopy beneath me.

The canopy has begun its seasonal decline. More leaf litter covers the mandala floor and the canopy allows a little more sunlight through every day. The greatest canopy loss may have occurred before this season even started as some of the nearby ash trees produced little if any canopy. I assume that these ash trees have fallen victim to emerald ash borer (EAB), a small beetle native to Asia that has been spreading through the eastern US, killing millions of ash trees. I have been studying the consequences of this pest in forests that are dominated by it's ash tree hosts. My conclusion thus far has been that EAB triggers the development of a novel ecosystem, one that is likely to be dominated by exotic understory plants which will probably have cascading effects to other parts of the food web and inhibit the establishment of mature trees. Then the lack of tree regeneration is further complicated by an overabundance of deer. In the mandala, ash trees are not prevalent but their death will open a new gap in the canopy and this influx of light may benefit the non-native grasses and shrubs readily found in the surrounding forest. It will be a long time before another tree fills that gap given the lack of advanced regeneration. I would like to climb one of these ash trees but am hesitant because of their poor health and the large poison ivy vine growing on the most accessible tree. From my perch in the tulip tree, I can see small orange mushrooms all along one of the large ash branches not far away. These mushrooms tell me that the tree is being eaten (decomposed, really) from the inside as the fungi breaks down the complex structural cells of the wood, weakening the tree. I'd like to get into the ash canopy to verify the presence and destruction from EAB and to maybe examine the food web there. Does EAB alter the canopy food web? Unfortunately, most of these ash trees are beyond my arborist skill level.

Amidst the tree canopy, I found the gentle fluttering of the tulip leaves soothing, almost meditative. Occasionally the breeze would pick up and I could see neighboring trees swaying. The bendy flexible nature of trees is really impressive, though a bit unnerving when you're 70 feet off the ground in one of those trees. As I stood on that branch (still tied into my primary rope and with a secondary attachment too, of course), I had to hold on to the bole as it danced in the wind. Although I hadn't spent as long in the canopy as I had hoped, it was time to skedaddle, to say goodbye to the canopy for now.