by Chris Worrell
Arborglyphs in a western aspen grove, including Miguel Carrika’s elegant signature. Courtesy of Hadlock & Potashin
Historical interpretation calls to mind costly costumes, elaborate demonstrations, and expensive tools and props. However, among the trees exists a form of history that is as simple and inexpensive as a walk in the woods. Arborglyphs are—as the name implies—names, dates, symbols, messages, and designs etched into the bark of a variety of trees, most notably aspens and beeches. The notion of celebrating glyphs may seem quite foreign to readers who have long equated tree carving with vandalism. However, many historical glyphs were created prior to widespread adoption of tree care standards, and in fact the carvings often predate area public land preservation initiatives. A number of programmers now recognize arborglyphs as valuable interpretive tools. Behind each carving is a story that can entertain and inspire, but also teach valuable lessons.
Whether created by explorers, surveyors, Native Americans, travelers, soldiers, or lovers, arborglyphs—historic and modern—are an expression of man’s relationship to the environment. Contemporary glyphs reflect a discomfort with long periods in nature. Such carvings are typically poorly planned, quickly rendered, and brutally hacked into the tree. (In many areas, tree “artists” have abandoned carving altogether, instead covering the bark with spray paint).
In contrast, carvers of old often worked their entire lives outdoors, maintained a familiarity with natural materials, and exhibited great skill with knives and other tools, and therefore, such carvers planned carefully, labored patiently, and used proper form. Historic carvers employed the scratch technique, which involves thin incisions that expand to reveal an artist’s intent over time. The use of the scratch technique helps distinguish historic arborglyphs from heavy-handed modern graffiti, which can, according to historian Andrew Gulliford, “damage or even destroy trees.” Because historic carvers relied on the environment in a direct manner, they understood that tree health was integral to the survival of the carving and possibly the survival of themselves and their families.
While arborglyphs are intriguing to most people, they also afford interpreters an opportunity to introduce other topics, including stewardship, threats to trees, environmental and historic preservation, and the legacies of various groups of people. Manzanar National Historic Site rangers Richard Potashin and Nancy Hadlock educate patrons about arborglyphs created by Basque herders during off-site programs that they offer on a volunteer basis at Mono Lake in California. The programs address immigration, aspen ecology, the overlooked role of sheepherders in Western history, the effects of grazing on the environment, and an array of other subjects. Above all, Potashin and Hadlock emphasize that the glyphs represent not just a carved name, but an actual person. Careful research allows the pair of glyphers to piece together stories of individuals who lived much of the year in solitude, but still managed to make friends, raise families, and leave a lasting mark on the landscape.
Like Hadlock and Potashin, Carol Pedersen works with aspen arborglyphs created by sheepherders. However, the herders Pedersen chronicles in southern Oregon are not only Basque, but also Irish. Pedersen became hooked on arborglyphs in 1997 when she participated in a documentation project as a Passport in Time (PIT) volunteer for the United States Forest Service. In the years since, she has published a biographical account of an Irish herder and won a Malcolm & Louise Loring grant to document carvings on Steens Mountain, while also presenting annual interpretive hikes that explore the historic glyphs. As an interpreter, Pedersen focuses on cultural aspects and individual lives, noting that the aspens constitute an outdoor library that contains data on men who may not appear in public records.
No single person has done more to document arborglyphs than Joxe Mallea-Olaetxe, who has photographed over 27,000 historic aspen carvings. However, he admits that his arborglyph images represent merely the tip of the iceberg. In 2000, Mallea released Speaking Through the Aspens: Basque Tree Carvings in California and Nevada. While a number of earlier writers surveyed arborglyphs, Mallea’s effort signified a turning point because he addressed tree carvings as a legitimate subject for in-depth historical inquiry.
Each year Mallea leads arborglyph hikes at a variety of locations in the Sierra Nevada range. While introducing program participants to arborglyphs, Mallea discusses Basque culture and history, and he describes the role that sheepherders played in sustaining miners (meat) and eastern industry (wool). He also notes that the names of most sheepherders do not appear on census schedules. Thus, the arborglyphs may be the only source that reveals information about the location and status of specific individuals at a certain point in history. Mallea estimates that 80 percent of the carvings he encounters include both a name and a date, and they often contain further information, along with symbols and artwork. While some of the glyphs are lighthearted, the herders also left serious messages about the Spanish Civil War, area law enforcement, and predators of sheep. Mallea has even discovered carvings related to killings, such as Nevada’s infamous Indian Massacre of 1911.
An LOL tree at Hach-Otis Nature Preserve in Ohio. This carving is a bit more ornate than was typical for trapper Lawrence Orr Linton. Photo by Chris Worrell
Far from the Sierra Nevada, Lake Metroparks in Ohio regularly features an interpretive program about an early 20th-century tree-carving trapper named Lawrence Orr Linton, whose initials (LOL) appear on more than a dozen area beech trees. Interpreters leading tours of “LOL trees” discuss not only Linton and his carvings, but also trapping, westward expansion, furbearers, beech-maple woodlands, and the relationship between man and nature. Linton created the glyphs as directionals and indicators of cached equipment and, like most historic carvers, he employed the scratch technique. Linton may have learned the technique from his mother who was, according to some sources, of Cherokee ancestry. Cherokee Indians are known for being the creators of countless tree carvings in the Southeast, particularly during the period in which Native Americans were forced west along the Trail of Tears.
Robert Shankland—renowned physicist, Einstein biographer, and former Linton trapping protégé—provided much of the information about Linton. Using Shankland’s memories and basic genealogical research, Lake Metroparks developed a profile of an outdoorsman who once enjoyed a life of relative privilege on the family farm near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but who left behind that life to eke out a bare-bones existence as a trapper in Ohio. Linton’s mysterious death (on the same day as his brother) only adds to the already intriguing tale. Nevertheless, interpreters in general should not feel compelled to invest an inordinate amount of time into research for an arborglyph program. Because historic tree carvings speak to the relationship between man and nature, and because they provide a wonderful opportunity to introduce related topics, research for arborglyph programs can be molded to meet time and budget considerations.
A fairly thorough knowledge of arborglyphs in general can be attained by simply reading works by Pedersen, Mallea, Gulliford, and James DeKorne. A bit of genealogical research can add color to a program. No matter the intended amount of research, libraries and the Internet both provide solid starting points.
“T.G.S. Hell’s Delight, July 4th, 1877” reads this Yosemite pine tree blaze. Smooth-barked trees were not always available, and therefore bark was sometimes removed prior to etching the wood. Courtesy of James Snyder
Any program about arborglyphs should, of course, dissuade modern carvers. There are a number of arguments against contemporary tree carving. First, the rules of public lands generally dictate against carving. Second, while carvers of years past may not have even enjoyed easy access to paper, today we possess myriad outlets for creativity and communication. Third, trees now contend with a number of imported threats, and therefore we should avoid creating wounds that can be exploited by pests and pathogens. Finally, there are simply too many of us for everyone to carve a tree in our already diminished woodlands. Through education we can not only discourage modern carvings, but also encourage documentation and preservation of historic glyphs.
Arborglyphs provide a valuable material link to past lives, a link that cannot be experienced through mere words in a book. Historical figures who have created glyphs include Henry David Thoreau, Kit Carson, Ronald Reagan, and William Clark, while arborglyphs have been documented by Ansel Adams, 18th-century Moravian missionaries, and the Roman poet Virgil. Such tree carvings exist at the juncture of nature and history, thereby affording nearly limitless opportunities for interpretation. The woodland archives await; explore, document, learn, and teach.
For More Information
Gulliford, Andrew. (2007). Reading the Trees: Colorado’s Endangered Arborglyphs and Aspen Art. Colorado Heritage, Autumn.
Mallea-Olaetxe, Joxe. (2000). Speaking Through the Aspens: Basque Tree Carvings in California and Nevada. Reno: University of Nevada Press.
Chris Worrell works in interpretation for the National Park Service. Reach him at uitdenworrell@oh.rr.com.
by Kirk Carter Mona
