Driving past a small section of Kingshighway, one yard is covered with a soft sprinkling of pine needles fallen from our ever-present shortleaf pine, the predominant pine species in this part of Arkansas. I can’t remember a place I’ve been, except for tropical rainforests, where pine trees were absent.
They are ubiquitous in temperate and subtropical climates and tropical highlands. Thirty-nine species of pines grace forests of the United States, two-thirds found in Western states. The yellow pine or short-leaf pine is common throughout Arkansas.
Pines were adopted as the “state tree” in 1939 honoring the shortleaf pine (Pinus echinata) and the more economically important loblolly pine (Pinus taeda) of southern Arkansas. A few other pine species occur in Arkansas including lonely stands of Virginia pine (Pinus virginiana), spruce pine (Pinus glabra), longleaf pine (Pinus palustris), and a record from Montgomery County in South Arkansas of white pine (Pinus strobus).
Not long ago I saw an entire fence row of maturing white pines in Eureka Springs. I immediately recognized it from childhood familiarity from southern Maine on the coast of Casco Bay, where I grew up.
Prior to the American Brexit of 1776, white pine was also known as mast pine or king’s pine. Five centuries ago, when English sailors first caught views of American shores, one of the more awesome sights must have been the glorious stands of tall white pines towering over the coastal and inland forests.
An Act of the British Parliament in 1722 forbade the cutting of any white pine without “his Majesty’s License.” All white pines fit for masts that were 24 inches in diameter and 12 inches above the ground, were reserved for the Crown. Before that time, three-foot wide pine boards found their way into buildings. Before retirement, my father, Herb Foster, Jr., a carpenter, re-shingled one Maine house built in 1694. The white pine roof boards were nearly three feet wide!
The largest white pines measured more than seven tree in diameter and upwards of 250 feet tall. In the Maine coastal town in which I grew-up there were 12 extraordinary towering pine trees atop a hill known as Ephraim’s Mount. Known as the 12 apostles or the 12 sisters, they survived the axe unfit for masts, and served as a sighting landmark for sailors navigating into Portland Harbor. The last tree survived until 1935.