24.07.2013 Views

Volume 3, Number 1 - Penn State Erie

Volume 3, Number 1 - Penn State Erie

Volume 3, Number 1 - Penn State Erie

SHOW MORE
SHOW LESS

Create successful ePaper yourself

Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.

The Arboretum at <strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> Behrend<br />

<strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> <strong>Erie</strong>, The Behrend College<br />

4215 Station Road<br />

<strong>Erie</strong>, PA 16563-0107<br />

Printed on recycled paper<br />

Ethel Kochel Garden Dedicated<br />

Ethel Kochel was the guest of honor at the surprise<br />

October 5, 2007 dedication of the Ethel Kochel Garden,<br />

the newest addition to the Arboretum at <strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> Behrend.<br />

Jeffrey Kochel ’71 AGR and his wife Pamela Olson<br />

Kochel ‘73 LIB, commissioned the garden as a tribute<br />

to his mother. At the suggestion of Mary Beth McCarthy,<br />

<strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> Master Gardener and director of the College’s<br />

Center for Career Development, the Kochels chose to<br />

renovate the patio area located on the west side of the<br />

building that is dedicated to his father, Irvin Kochel.<br />

As designed and planted by Dahlkemper Landscape<br />

Architects and Contractors, it features a Skyline<br />

(Sunburst) honey locust tree and ornamental grasses<br />

including ‘Karl Foerster’ feather reed grass. An acidstained<br />

pattern enhances the existing paving. Two new<br />

metal picnic tables allow students, faculty, and staff the<br />

opportunity to study, relax, or dine al-fresco.<br />

The highlight of the garden, however, is a collection<br />

of dwarf conifers, a favorite of Mary Behrend. The<br />

fifteen species of conifers include: Pinus strobus ‘Nana’,<br />

Pinus strobus ‘Contorta Nana’, Pinus strobus ‘Hershey’,<br />

Pinus strobus ‘Horsford’, Pinus strobus ‘Pendula’, Pinus<br />

strobus ‘Torulosa’, Pinus mugo mugo, Pinus mugho<br />

purmillo, Microbiota decussate, Picea abies pumilla,<br />

Chamaecyparis p. filfera ‘Sungold’, Picea mariana<br />

‘Ericoides’, Dwarf globe blue spruce, Chamaecyparis<br />

obtusa gracilis, and Picea abies nidiformis.<br />

Mrs. Kochel is the widow of the late Irvin Kochel who<br />

served as the director of <strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> Behrend from 1954<br />

until 1980. When the family first arrived on campus they<br />

lived on campus, in an old farmhouse, and Mrs. Kochel<br />

became fond of Behrend property. According to Jeff<br />

Kochel, “my mother has always been interested in the<br />

campus grounds and was concerned about retaining the<br />

‘country feel’ of Behrend as it expanded under my father’s<br />

leadership. She supported my father in many ways during<br />

Behrend’s development. It just seemed to fit to bring<br />

all this together in a garden that represents Pam and my<br />

appreciation for the Behrend grounds and highlights<br />

a section of the building named after my father with a<br />

garden honoring my mother. This recognizes her support<br />

‘behind the scenes’ for my father, and her love of nature.”<br />

Jeffrey Kochel is employed at Forest Investment Associates<br />

in Smethport, providing timberland investment<br />

and management services to individual and institutional<br />

investors, and corporations. As a student he worked<br />

summers on the Behrend grounds crew. Says Mr. Kochel:<br />

“Since my wife and I both enjoy the beauty of the<br />

campus and think this is an important asset for Behrend,<br />

we were interested in doing something to help with the<br />

development of the new arboretum.”<br />

Back row: Irvin Kochel III<br />

(’75 SCI), Pamela Olson<br />

Kochel (‘73 LIB), Jeffrey<br />

Kochel (’71 AGR), Terry<br />

Young<br />

Front Row: Carla Kochel<br />

(’75 HHD), Ethel Kochel,<br />

Patty Kochel Young<br />

Quirky Quercus<br />

VolUmE 3 NUmbEr 1 | SprINg 2008 | www.greencampus.psu.edu<br />

Oaks are flowering plants belonging to the genus<br />

Quercus, the Latin name derived from two<br />

Celtic words: quer, meaning fine and cuez,<br />

meaning tree. In the same family are beeches (genus<br />

Fagus) and chestnuts (genus Castanea); only the oaks<br />

produce acorns. The only other genus producing acorns<br />

is Litliocarpus, the tanbark oak.<br />

These trees are set apart by four characteristics: a<br />

fruit known as the acorn; a distinctive, wind-pollinated<br />

flower; a strong, complex wood; and an ability to live for<br />

many decades, if not centuries. The acorn, producing<br />

female flowers, are scattered singly or in small groups<br />

among the youngest twigs The pollen-producing male<br />

flowers are clustered on pendulous threads known as<br />

catkins. A male flower has five to 12 stamens that make<br />

the pollen and between 25-100 male flowers form a<br />

catkin and each tree bears thousands of catkins in a<br />

single year.<br />

Typically the genus Quercus is divided into two major<br />

groups: red and white. Both have lobed leaves with the<br />

red oak lobes bristle-tipped while the white oaks have<br />

rounded lobes. Other obvious differences are in the<br />

acorns. Red oak acorns require two years to mature while<br />

white oaks mature in one season (annuals). Red oak acorn<br />

cups have velvety hairs on the inner surface. Another<br />

feature that the wine industry has taken advantage of is<br />

that the heartwood of white oaks have clogged vessels<br />

(part of the anatomy of wood) that makes them impervious<br />

to liquids. White oak barrels make up the cooperage<br />

industry. Because red oaks have open vessels and easily<br />

absorb wood preservatives, they are used in oak flooring.<br />

White oak evolutionary lineage has rounded lobes,<br />

not pointed. Tips of the lobes and the rest of the leaf<br />

margin (edge) may have teeth or spines, not bristles.<br />

Teeth are green leaf tissue drawn to a point along the<br />

margin. If the point is hard and very sharp it is called a<br />

spine. Bristles are dry, colorless extensions of a leaf vein<br />

that go beyond the margin. Acorns of white oaks ripen<br />

in one year and the scales of the acorn are knobby.<br />

Red oak evolution, sometimes called black, has<br />

deeply lobed leaves or unlobed, oval leaves. Lobes or<br />

margins of the leaves are tipped with tawny bristles that<br />

extend beyond the green of the blade. Acorns typically<br />

take 2 years to ripen, with the exception of the coast<br />

live oak of California. Its acorn scales are thin and flat,<br />

covering the acorn like shingles.<br />

But what seems not to fit into the oak leaf formula<br />

are those oak leaves without any lobing or which have<br />

serrated margins instead. The following “red oaks” have<br />

elliptical leaves with smooth (entire) margins: Quercus<br />

imbricata (Shingle Oak) and Quercus phellos (Willow<br />

Oak). At least six more southern oaks also could be<br />

included here. An odd form of lobing occurs in another<br />

“red oak” the Quercus marilandica (Blackjack Oak).<br />

The “white oaks” that are not lobed appear to have<br />

serrated margins in the following species: Quercus<br />

michauxii (Swamp Chestnut Oak) which sports a wavy<br />

margin in 9-14 rounded teeth and Quercus muehlenbergii<br />

(Chinkapin Oak). Other” white oaks” have very<br />

shallow lobes or an entire margin such as: Quercus bicolor<br />

(Swamp White Oak) and Quercus prinodes (Dwarf<br />

Chinkapin Oak). Many of these listed above can be found<br />

in the Arboretum at <strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> Behrend.<br />

Ed Masteller, Ph.D., professor emeritus of biology,<br />

may be contacted at e11@psu.edu.<br />

Quercus alba. White oaks<br />

have leaves with rounded<br />

lobes. Their acorns, producing<br />

female flowers,<br />

are scattered in small<br />

groups among the youngest<br />

twigs.<br />

IN THIS ISSUE<br />

Remembering Aldo<br />

Leopold 2<br />

The Revival of the<br />

Ameican Chestnut 3<br />

? 4<br />

This publication is available<br />

in alternative media upon<br />

request.<br />

<strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> is committed to<br />

affirmative action, equal opportunity,<br />

and the diversity of<br />

its workforce.<br />

U.Ed. EBO 08-xx<br />

For information about the<br />

arboretum call 814-898-6160


Sand County<br />

Almanac is the<br />

2008 choice<br />

for One Book,<br />

One <strong>Erie</strong><br />

Remembering Aldo Leopold<br />

We approach the sixtieth anniversary of the<br />

death of Aldo Leopold (1887-1948). His<br />

legacy lies in our attitudes towards nature.<br />

We expect our visit to an arboretum to be an experience<br />

of learning and spiritual enrichment. Earlier generations<br />

may have seen timber, pulp, or employment in trees.<br />

They still may, but for many the uses of trees are inseparable<br />

from our conviction that we need a sense of beauty,<br />

an ethic of conservation, and knowledge of the world we<br />

did not create. What we may forget is that our sense of<br />

wonder grows from the achievements of persons whose<br />

name and works are less well known. Typically they<br />

include such names as Sweden’s Carl Linnaeus (1707-<br />

1778), an inventor of modern scientific nomenclature<br />

and Rachel Carson (1907-1964), a marine biologist<br />

whose book, Silent Spring, helped<br />

make us sensitive to the fragility of<br />

nature. Like Carson, Leopold became<br />

best known for a single work, Sand<br />

County Almanac, one that has never<br />

gone out of print and remains a pioneering<br />

work of nature writing.<br />

Leopold’s biography understates<br />

the impact of his ideas. He developed<br />

a sense of nature as an interdependent<br />

community, a “land ethic,” in which human<br />

intervention demands a knowledge<br />

and responsibility beyond any economic<br />

purpose. Of course, the objective of a<br />

sustainable relation among humans,<br />

plants, and animals is the only one that has economic<br />

justification, yet Leopold’s vision is one which recognizes<br />

the integrity of living things. He especially mourned the<br />

disappearance of wolves and grizzly bears and the need to<br />

set aside areas of roadless wilderness in the West. In his<br />

words, “relegating grizzlies to Alaska is about like relegating<br />

happiness to heaven; one may never get there.” One<br />

suspects Leopold’s conviction was a result of his gift of<br />

powerful observation. He was born near Burlington, Iowa<br />

near the Mississippi at a time when some of the original<br />

prairie survived, and because of his parents emphasis<br />

on education, he enjoyed a privileged secondary education<br />

that brought him to graduate from Yale School of<br />

Forestry.<br />

Employed by the US Forestry Service, Leopold spent<br />

his first assignment in the US territory that would become<br />

the state of Arizona. He would also work in New Mexico’s<br />

Gila National Forest, part of which was set aside for the<br />

Aldo Leopold Wilderness. In 1924, Leopold became<br />

Director of the Forest Products Laboratory in Madison,<br />

Wisconsin. Less than a decade later, at a time of dust<br />

bowl drought, he lent his expertise to a project of the<br />

Department of Agriculture’s newly formed Soil Erosion<br />

Service. The 1933 watershed demonstration project for<br />

soil erosion at the town of Coon Valley in southwestern<br />

Wisconsin proved the value of more deliberate farming<br />

practice. The project also laid a basis for the work of the<br />

Civilian Conservation Corps. In 1935, after joining the<br />

faculty at the University of Wisconsin, Leopold purchased<br />

a run down farm that became a model of natural<br />

restoration and conservation available to his students and<br />

a source of inspiration for Sand County Almanac.<br />

It is hardly surprising that Leopold’s writing about<br />

trees emphasized their role as sentinels of other natural<br />

events. One of his essays “Good Oak” mourns a great oak<br />

of 30” in diameter with some eighty rings. The tree was<br />

struck down by lightning at Leopold’s beloved farm. His<br />

use of its fire wood made him reflect as he cut through the<br />

rings. Leopold notes that about the time of the tree’s germination<br />

in 1865 there was evidently a scarcity of rabbits,<br />

since the seedling survived. He starts at the “dust bowl<br />

droughts” of the 1930s on the “Babbittian” decade of the<br />

1920s when everything grew bigger and better in heedless<br />

arrogance and the decade after 1910 “when steam<br />

shovels sucked dry the marshes of central Wisconsin to<br />

make farms, and made ash heaps instead.” The years of<br />

fierce fire and drought alternate with some of the greater<br />

sadness of extermination. When on September 10,<br />

1877, “two brothers shooting at Muskego Lake, bagged<br />

210 Blue-winged Teal in one day, and in 1876 four<br />

hunters killed 153 Prairie Chickens, and one Chicago<br />

firm received and marketed 25,000...”. “In 1871, within<br />

a 50-mile triangle spreading northwestward from my oak,<br />

136 million Passenger Pigeons nested...” in their largest<br />

concentration before confronting extinction .<br />

In the essay “December,” Leopold takes special joy<br />

in the “candle” of new growth in the pines. “In fact every<br />

Pine carries an open bankbook in which his cash balance<br />

is recorded by June 30 of every year. If, on that date, his<br />

completed candle has developed a terminal cluster of ten<br />

or twelve buds, it means that he has salted away enough<br />

rain and sun for a two-foot or even three-foot skyward<br />

next Spring.” There is abundant evidence of the genius<br />

that prompted Leopold’s observation and his testimony.<br />

Perhaps the best way to bring it honor is to recall his belief<br />

that “we can be ethical only in relation to something we<br />

can see, feel, understand, love, or otherwise have faith<br />

in.” Surely the great natural beauty that is <strong>Penn</strong>sylvania’s<br />

heritage makes imperative such a relation.<br />

Zachary T. Irwin, Ph.D., associate professor of political<br />

science, may be contacted at zti1@psu.edu.<br />

The Revival of the American Chestnut<br />

At the beginning of the 20th century the American<br />

chestnut (Castanea dentata) trees at the<br />

New York Zoological Garden began to die because<br />

of a fungal infection that would girdle the trunks<br />

and choke off the vascular system. By mid-century the<br />

fungus, now described as the chestnut blight (Cryphonectria<br />

parasitica), spread throughout the range of<br />

the American chestnut, and the result was an ecological<br />

disaster. Millions of acres of forest in the eastern United<br />

<strong>State</strong>s were decimated and the American chestnut, once<br />

a dominant tree in large portions of the Appalachian<br />

Highlands, was reduced to a minor species in the ecosystem.<br />

The fate of the American chestnut tree became<br />

an example of the environmental havoc and ruin that can<br />

result from the introduction of a non-native species.<br />

The American chestnut tree was of great economic<br />

and ecological value. It was fast growing and the wood<br />

was highly valued for construction because of its<br />

resistance to rot. The nuts, or mast, were a major food<br />

source for many forest species and they were highly<br />

prized for human consumption. Roasted chestnuts,<br />

chestnut stuffing, cakes, and breads were typical fare in<br />

American cuisine. All of that changed with the introduction<br />

of the chestnut blight. Huge swaths of Appalachian<br />

forest were transformed as chestnut trees died and were<br />

replaced with other species such as oak and maple.<br />

From Ontario to Alabama, and from Maine to Illinois,<br />

the American chestnut was reduced to an insignificant<br />

plant that survived by sprouting from stumps or in a few<br />

isolated stands that escaped disease. Even today the<br />

American chestnut survives in the forest by sprouting<br />

from the old stumps left after the initial dieback.<br />

The sprouts rarely reach tree size because the fungus<br />

re-infects, but an occasional tree reaches maturity and<br />

sets seed. However, the American chestnut is no longer<br />

a significant species in the North American forest, it<br />

is no longer a commodity for the timber industry, and<br />

the edible chestnuts sold in stores are not from the<br />

American chestnut but are usually imported and from<br />

the European chestnut (Castanea sativa).<br />

Despite the devastation wrought by the blight, tree<br />

breeders, foresters, and biologists have not surrendered<br />

the field and given up on the American chestnut as a<br />

valuable species and an integral part of the American<br />

landscape and heritage. A search of the natural stands<br />

of American chestnut has not revealed a high degree<br />

of genetic resistance to the blight but changes in the<br />

virulence of the fungus that causes the blight have been<br />

discovered in some locations. This hypovirulence might<br />

have some success in controlling the blight in contained<br />

stands. More promising is a long-term breeding pro-<br />

gram that involves crossing the American chestnut with<br />

the blight resistant Chinese chestnut (Castenea mollissima)<br />

and then backcrossing to the American trees in<br />

order to develop a hybrid that is disease resistant but has<br />

the wood, nut, and form of the American chestnut tree.<br />

The American Chestnut Foundation (www.acf.org)<br />

is leading the charge in this approach with the goal of<br />

establishing breeding stocks of resistant plants and then<br />

releasing, by the end of this decade, disease resistant<br />

American chestnut trees to the public. The last century<br />

was a disaster for the American chestnut but through<br />

the dedication of scientists, foresters, and geneticists,<br />

perhaps the 21st century will witness the reintroduction<br />

of this important species in the North American forests.<br />

The Arboretum at <strong>Penn</strong> <strong>State</strong> Behrend has recently<br />

planted American chestnut trees, Chinese chestnut<br />

trees, and progeny generated from a cross between<br />

these two species. The trees are still small, but a walk<br />

through the Arboretum will give you a chance to see a<br />

tree that was once a leader in the forest landscape and<br />

the American way of life.<br />

Michael A. Campbell, Ph.D., associate professor of<br />

biology, may be contacted at mac17@psu.edu.<br />

The Arboretum at <strong>Penn</strong><br />

<strong>State</strong> Behrend has recently<br />

planted American<br />

chestnut trees, Chinese<br />

chestnut trees, and<br />

progeny generated from a<br />

cross between these two<br />

species.

Hooray! Your file is uploaded and ready to be published.

Saved successfully!

Ooh no, something went wrong!