Arborglyphs: holding

Posted

on to history

By Alex Handloff | Mountain Studies Institute

In the beautiful forests surrounding Buckles Lake to the south of Pagosa Springs, a tree comes crashing down. It is an aspen tree. Its life has not been cut short despite the aspen harboring a fungus and some diseases for quite some time — no, the aspen falls because it is old, because it has reached the end of its life.

Our instinct is to lament the fallen aspen for we admire the beauty and fragility of this iconic species. And rightly so. All the more we lament when we see that there are arborglyphs dating back to the early 20th century of names in Spencerian script, dates and various artistic drawings. These were carved in a different time by Spanish sheep herders, mostly young men, who lived in these forests.

“The sheepherder, away from loved ones for months at a time, expressed his loneliness and boredom on the vast slate available, the soft, white bark of the aspen trees,” said Peggy Bergon, an arborglyph expert who has photographed thousands of examples of aspen art. “Most are dated from the earliest years of the 20th century through the 1950s. The carvings illustrate the story of the young men alone in the woods throughout the summer months. Using a knife tip, or even a nail, he sketched visions of home, hearth and missed loved ones that have adorned thousands of aspens throughout the Western forests. I believe the exquisite handwriting and pictorial charm of the carvings serve as a written record of who was on the land at a time when this part of the country was still remote and unpopulated. Although, it is a rapidly disappearing history due to age, disease, fire and climate change.” 

In late September, the San Juan Headwaters Forest Health Partnership organized a tour of the arborglyphs and aspen forests at Buckles Lake to better understand the cultural and historical importance and the future of the aging aspen groves. Bergon joined, along with staff from the San Juan National Forest, interested community members and others, including Matt Tuten, the former silviculturist on the San Juan National Forest and currently the Cooperative Forestry Program manager for the U.S. Forest Service Rocky Mountain Region.

“Aspen establishes after large disturbances like wildfire,” Tuten explained. “With harvesting, we can simulate wildfire and regenerate aspen stands. In the Buckles landscape, harvests have successfully established young aspen two other times over the last 40-50 years.”

Aspen trees are peculiar. One grove is usually composed of one singular organism that exhibits root sprout where new trees pop up nearby directly from the roots. Aspens are relatively short-lived trees, and as is the case at Buckles Lake, the aging groves are often pushed out by longer-lived, shade-tolerant trees like firs and pines. This is a natural process. 

Without the disturbance that Tuten mentioned, the forest transitions to a mixed-conifer type and the aspen trees die. There is nothing malicious about the conifers, and, yet, our human sensibilities tell us that we must hold on to aspen, especially ones with carvings.

“History was written on the trees,” added Bergon. “We have this incredible time capsule hidden in our aspen forests. Photographic documentation is the most permanent and preferred method for their preservation. If one is lucky enough to find a grove with arborglyphs, take a moment to appreciate the beautiful handwriting with dates possibly over 100 years old. Discover the story they tell and leave them be so that another adventurer may also catch a peek into the past.” 

It’s worth asking how there are any aspen at all given this seemingly inevitable fate they all face. However, as Tuten has seen first hand in the forests near Buckles Lake, eventually a disturbance such as fire or cutting the aspen occurs and they come back again, resilient as ever, given life by the disturbance that provides space and sunlight. As humans, we have a choice in the matter, and to promote a future filled with these valued trees, we can mimic these disturbances.

Unfortunately, while aspen may once again dominate these woods, these arborglyphs cannot.

The history of the trees at Buckles Lake date back even further than these arborglyphs, existing as the traditional homeland of the Jicarilla Apache since time immemorial and other tribal nations before that. There are multiple layers of values, history and interests, with different views of how to move forward and what to hold on to.

But what we can say confidently is that we all hope for a thriving future for these forests, and most likely one that includes aspen and the cultural and historical memories associated with them — both of the arborglyphs that adorns the bark-like pages in a journal as well as the Jicarilla Apache’s much older relationship with the woods. The arborglyphs may disappear and the forest is bound to change, but our appreciation and respect for how people interact with the forest doesn’t need to.

“It was nice to have such a diverse group assemble to share and broaden their knowledge of forest dynamics in the Buckles Lake area,” said Bergon. 

If you’re interested in learning more, joining upcoming tours or discussing topics like aspen, wildfire and natural resources, reach out to the San Juan Headwaters Forest Health Partnership by contacting its coordinator, Alex Handloff, at alex@mountainstudies.org.