Nature (writing) Friday

Well I am mightily relieved to report that Gail did not neglect to feature me in the piece she was required to submit for her nature writing course this week. 

It seems the task set was for her to step outside the front door and conjure up 500 words out of some aspect of nature she noticed right there and then. 

This is the result. It remains to be seen whether her course tutor is impressed by a text in which dog pee features so prominently...

Happy Nature Friday! 

Trunk Call

I never paid much attention to the base of tree trunks until I acquired a dog. 

Sycamore, cherry, whitebeam, birch and rowan trees, but mostly sycamore, line the streets of my inner city residential neighbourhood. Out early in the morning for the daily walk to the park, the chunky trunk of the sycamore beside my front gate is fox terrier Nobby’s first port of call. A couple of sniffs then he lifts his leg with what I, fond owner, see as balletic grace, and adds his pee-mail to the accumulation of messages already left on the tree by our local canine population. 

I once read a ‘scientific’ study purporting to demonstrate that the smaller the male dog, the higher he lifts his leg, so as to leave his mark as far up the tree or wall as possible and thus give the impression of larger size. ‘Small man’ syndrome is apparently not confined to the human species.  And yes, I did once, at some risk to my reputation for (I hope) sanity, follow up with a tape measure to see how high Nobby managed. 

At the top of the dog pee range the sycamore bark comprises irregular, greyish oblong scales. Crocodile skin comes to mind. Lower down, knobbly roots extend uncertainly like arthritic fingers, visible for a short distance before disappearing beneath the paving slabs.  I wonder what happens next. Are these particular tree roots connected to others in the street via a fine mesh of mycorrhizal fungi as might be the case in long established woodland? Perhaps my dog is contributing nutrients to an urban version of a Wood Wide Web? This seems far-fetched. The local tree-related communication network is probably, I’m afraid, limited to Nobby and his urinating pals. 

Throughout the year, street-wise weeds squeeze through the thin soil between tree and tarmac. Dandelion, chickweed, sow thistle, bittercress, groundsel - all doughty survivors of the city council’s annual bouts of chemical warfare. This mini-ecosystem is home to a diversity of dog-attracting aromas. 

Thus Nobby exhibits a clear preference for sidling up to trees rather than our street’s slender, bland lampposts for his bladder emptying business. For humans the presence of trees in the street presents a more complicated balance of pros and cons. On the one hand they signal a ‘des-res’ neighbourhood as well as providing shade in summer, a home for birdlife and of course, a small contribution to the net-zero target. I approve of the trees. But older pedestrians will fear tripping over the root-lifted paving stones. Home and car owners might remember windows and roofs damaged and vehicles crushed by trees toppled in recent storms. The near bankrupt local council will worry about increases in road maintenance costs. The intersection of nature and the city is not a conflict-free zone. 

This dog owner finds much indeed to ponder as she contemplates the base of an urban tree trunk. But Nobby is of a less philosophical mindset. He has now lost interest in this sycamore and is tugging on his lead. The park beckons.