One of the first tree families whose name we learn is the willow family.
The members are numerous, and the botanists find great difficulty in
distinguishing certain species, which closely resemble each other; but
these troubles we shall leave to the scientist. The point for us to
consider is this: When we see a tree which we know to be a willow, _how_
do we know it? “It looks like a willow,” some one says. But who knows,
and can tell _how_ willows look—how they differ from other trees?
First, willows have slender, flexible twigs that give the tree tops grace
and lightness. Second, willow leaves are nearly always long and slim to
match the supple twigs. They are always simple, and short-stemmed. The
wood is light and soft, so the trees break easily in storms of wind and
ice. An old willow tree is likely to be crippled, but its scars and
wounds are covered in summer by the arching branches and the abundant
foliage.
The first trees to blossom in spring are the shrubby pussy willows, a
distinct kind whose catkins are so eager to push out of their scales that
their grey, silky noses are often seen in November. Frequently, they are
out and the scales dropped in February; but the yellow stamens and the
long-tongued pistils do not rise above the grey fur until March, at
least. The most attractive stage of these catkins is the earlier one,
when the flower buds are concealed by the grey silk.
By cutting pussy willow twigs in the late fall, or any time during the
winter, and putting them into a jar of water, we may see the blossoming,
quite out of season. Sufficient food is stored in the twig to force out
the blossoms, even to the shedding of the pollen. It is a charming thing
in the winter to have a vase of these twigs in full bloom on a window
sill when snow banks are piled high just outside.
Willows are lovers of wet ground, and we shall see groves of them
scattered along streams and on the margins of ponds and swamps. A few
species thrive in dry soil, and seem to prefer it. Some grow at sea
level, others are found on high mountains. From small shrubs they vary to
mighty trees. There is no climate and no soil that does not have its
native willows. The family is distributed from the Equator to the Arctic
Circle.
It is very common in many places for farmers to plant a grove of willows
for a windbreak, to protect their houses and barns. This is especially
seen in prairie states and other treeless regions. Willows are
quick-growing trees, and sure to grow. All one needs do is to cut limbs
from a growing tree, chop these limbs into pieces the length of stove
wood, and drive them into the ground. Each one takes root, and grows into
a tree, if the soil is at all moist.
Another plan is to cut fence posts from the willow grove, and drive them
into the ground. Each of these posts forms the trunk of a willow tree,
which soon has a great head of branches.
In Holland and other countries, willows are thickly planted to form
hedges and for their roots to hold the soil along the banks of streams
and ditches. The same trees may perform a double service. Willow wood
makes good summer fuel, where a quick, hot fire is desired. The twigs
make the best charcoal used in the manufacture of gunpowder. The long,
flexible twigs of a low-growing willow are used in the manufacture of
wicker chairs, tables, and other furniture. These trees are grown on a
large scale in France and other European countries, and the industry is
being introduced in some parts of America.
When spring comes on, we may notice a peculiar change in the colour of
the bare willows that line the stream borders. The twigs turn gradually
green, and the long, pointed buds prepare to cast off their single
scales. These are shaped like the long, knitted caps which children wear
in winter time, although there is no tassel at the end. The cap fits
snugly over the long bud, and is fastened in a circle at the joint. The
swelling bud simply pushes it off.
Under these trees, we shall find a good many fresh twigs. Reaching up to
break one, we find that it snaps off short at the base. It is not brittle
along its whole length. Try a dozen twigs, and off they snap, almost at a
touch. The wind has broken off those that fell to the ground. Some that
fall in the water, float away down stream. They catch on sandbars, and
strike root. Some swing in to the shore, and grow on the banks.
We have discovered a habit of certain kinds of willow trees. The shedding
of their twigs at the season when they are fullest of life is the tree’s
method of colonising new territory. These twigs float away, and blow
away, and those which lodge in wet ground before they dry are almost sure
to grow. The billowy acres of green which cover sandbars and stream
borders are willow trees, children of parents that grow far up stream.
Along roadsides in this country a large willow is much planted, whose
leaves are pale beneath, so that they look very cheerful and cool in
midsummer. The most striking thing about these willows is that their
twigs are yellow as ducks’ feet, and particularly bright in early spring.
The older trees grow very stout, and great branches leave the trunk close
to the ground. This is the golden osier willow, one form of the white
willow of Europe, which does not grow vigorously in this country.
The weeping willows, whose long, supple branches sweep out and downward,
sometimes yards in length, from the tree top, came originally from
Babylon. Who were they in that far country who “hung their harps on the
willow trees”? A great many weeping willows in the Eastern states are
said to be sprung from the parent tree, which grew on the Island of St.
Helena. What famous prisoner probably sat under the shadows of this
willow tree, and dreamed again of conquering the world? The weeping
willow has the habit of snapping its twigs off, short, at the base. One
of these long withes, cut into bits with one or two buds on each cutting,
will start as many weeping willow trees, if the bits are stuck into wet
sand and kept wet until rooted, and then set out and given plenty of
water until they become established in the ground.
The black willow is named for the black bark of the old tree. It is the
only one of the narrow-leaved willows whose leaves are uniformly green on
both sides. These leaves are often curved like a sickle. At the base of
each leaf is a pair of heart-shaped, leafy blades, called stipules. Many
trees have stipules that come out with the leaves, and are dropped off,
but these persist, as a rule, all summer. The black willow is one of
those with the twigs that snap. It takes possession of stream borders,
and its offspring may cover miles of new territory in a single season.
The balsam willow we shall know by the fragrant coating of wax, or
balsam, on its young shoots and buds. Its broad leaves are blunt at the
tip, and look scarcely willow-like, but the tree is known by its buds and
its catkins. To find it we shall have to go into the boggy regions in the
Northern tier of states, where it is numerous, but never more than a
shrubby tree.
One use is served by no tree as well as a willow. When the sap rises in
spring, the willow branches are in prime condition to make whistles. I
wonder if there is a boy, in town or country, who does not know how to
make a willow whistle that will “go”? Surely not, unless his supply of
uncles and grandfathers is short. You cannot make a willow whistle by
following printed directions. Some skilful person, who has been a boy,
must show you, and one lesson is enough.