Aspen are very beautiful, not only to look at but also to hear. They are commonly known as quaking aspen as the leaves are very flexible near the leaf blade which means that they flutter very easily, producing a lovely rustling sound in the slightest of breezes, whilst shimmering in the light. They are spindly, looking like a little like a silver birch and grow up to around 25m high. The bark seems to attract a lot of lichen and, as they get older, they can become very knobbly. Sounds familiar. The leaves change from copper to green and then yellow through the seasons. We have lots at Cefn Garthenor. Or do we?
It certainly appears that we have got many hundreds of Aspen shooting up in the corners of 4 or 5 fields. When sheep were on the land, these would never have made it beyond a tasty sprout. Now most are over 2m high, spindly but solidly there, packed quite closely together. The cattle have trampled a few, making a path through, in some areas, but, on the whole, they have left them alone. The same applies to the alder, oak and other varieties creeping out from the old hedgerows.
However, unlike the Alder and the Oak, the Aspen is a big fan of asexual reproduction. A tree will produce suckers, or shoots, and new stems will sprout up from these lateral roots. Left alone, you can see hundreds of new trees coming up in the ground around the parent. Which is what has now happened. However, these trees are clones of the parent, sharing identical genetics. These can create a clonal woodland, so resources can be shared.
The problem with this is, given we have ambitions to produce trees for our nursery, we want a bit of genetic diversity. In the UK, tree nurseries are regulated through a combination of the Forestry Commission, DEFRA and the Plant Health and Seeds Inspectorate (part of the APHA). OFSTED is fortunately not involved. And thankfully, Jess, our horticulturalist, is all over this. Buckets of disinfectant at dawn. I now have been told to get onsite and offsite wellies. Joking apart (actually, I wasn’t), the powers that be will only let us sell Aspen trees if are not relying on asexual reproduction. It would be a disaster if large numbers of trees across the country were genetically identical and all equally vulnerable to, say, a particular disease.
So, how many Aspen do we really have? Difficult to know. Perhaps we have 4 or 5, being the parents to the kids growing up in those field corners. However, it is possible, given that they are all within perhaps 750m of each other, that we only have one tree. The sheep may have munched any shoots until a lateral root stumbled upon a hedge where a new shoot could grow in a protected environment, hundreds of metres from the parent. How can we tell? I guess we could DNA test, but in the first instance we will try and see if they all flower (that is produce catkins) at the same time this spring. If the timing differs, we know that we have some genetic variation.
All well and good, but we are slightly impatient. So Jess, who knows best, bought in a new Aspen, which she and John have planted within sight of one of the fields corners sprouting Aspen so vigorously. It is the first tree we have bothered to protect (just in case those Galloways feel is in the way). We hope that this will allow a bit of sexual reproduction. Male and female catkins grow on different trees, making the Aspen dioecious … something I suspect President Trump would approve of. Most plants (around 90%) are monoecious.
Anyway, I can now say we have at least 2 Aspen trees. Possibly 5 or 6. But not the many hundreds I first believed. I just hope we have at least one of either sex … and that Elon and his chainsaw stay well away from Wales. The diversity on show may be just too much.
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