Longleaf Pine: The Tragic Legacy of a Southern Giant
by John B. Nelson, former Professor Emeritus in the University of South Carolina Department of Biological Sciences
photo by Linda Lee
You may as well forbid the mountain pines
To wag their high tops and to make no noise,
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven.
Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, scene 1
There are about 100 different species in the genus Pinus, which of course is the genus of all the true pines. About 40 of these are native to north America, and in the Southeastern USA, there about 20 of these species as part of our native flora. Pines are most widely distributed in north temperate regions, occupying a variety of habitats, but mostly on dry or at least moderately dry places; a few like their feet wet. Pines have been (and are) of incredible economic value, in part as sources of timber and pulpwood, and several are known for their edible seeds; of these, “Stone pine” of Pinus pinea, native to the Mediterranean and western Asia, is the one whose seeds are commonly marketed at supermarkets, often labeled “pine nuts”. (Of course, these are not “nuts” in the since of fruits…as all pines are gymnosperms, producing neither flowers nor fruits.)
Before the onslaught of Western culture in the Southeastern USA, there existed stunning forests of longleaf pine, Pinus palustris, a species which towered well over 100’ high, with trunks seven feet in diameter, true southern giants. Try as you might these days, you will not happen upon such a scene: groves of these, thick within the sandhills and coastal plain, as far as the eye can see.
Longleaf pine is not to be confused (or at least shouldn’t be) with any other tree: the combination of long, flexuous needles (in 3’s), whitened-silvery buds, and large cones make it distinctive in the Southeast. Its natural reproduction and growth is tied closely to periodic fires, which provide a sandy, open surface on which the seeds can sprout. No fire, no reproduction. It is endemic to the Southeast, historically occurring on millions of acres in its original distribution on the coastal plain, from southeastern Virginia down to central Florida, and west to eastern Texas. We moderns can scarcely imagine what it must have been like to walk through an original, old-growth, undisturbed forest dominated by this pine. My attempt would involve standing there next to one of the craggy giants on a sandhill ridge, listening to the constant whistle and moan of the needle-like leaves so far above (“frettened” by the wind”), as well as a low growl from the quiet creaking of the massive trunks.
photo by Linda Lee
Even before British colonization of the Southeast this species was recognized as an outstanding source of resin, perfect for processing into a variety of products, most commonly what we refer to as “naval stores”. In the early 1700s, the British, eager to make use of such a resource for its powerful navy, particularly regarding the making of rope and sails as well as caulking, improved on the collection of resin and subsequently developed a tremendous operation for extracting it. As you might imagine, draining a 100’ pine of its sap leaves it in a severely weakened situation, and indeed killed millions of trees. Not only that…but the process of making turpentine was catching on. Perhaps you’ve seen historic images of tens of thousands of barrels of pitch or turpentine lined up on the docks of Wilmington, Georgetown, or Savannah, ready to be shipped out, each barrel probably representing the life of one tree. This sobering story, then, marks one of the great successes in exploiting a single species to the point that the local landscape has been forever changed.
“And now this noble original forest…is gone--rooted out by hogs, mutilated to death by turpentining, cut down in lumbering, burned up through negligence.” This sad statement came to us from B. W. Wells, author of “The Natural Gardens of North Carolina”, first published in 1932. I am afraid that Wells’ statement can be applied to the rest of the Southeast as well, regarding the plight of this magnificent species. You can find a few protected places on the landscape where original (or near-original) growth still exists, but not many. (I thoroughly recommend a reading of Wells’ monumental work, which is available: it may be acquired through the UNC Press.)
