A Minnesota Treasure
WRITTEN BY SUSAN LATTA
We wanted to create something that would last long after we were gone.
Ode to
White Pine
It all began fourteen years ago when we purchased our small green cabin perched on the top of a bluff overlooking Ossawinnamakee Lake, just east of Pequot Lakes. The circa 1940s cabin and slightly newer boathouse were charming yet very tired and in need of rescue. The land, too, begged for cleanup.
So that “something” became a new grove of white pine. Since we started, we have carefully planted eight hundred saplings by hand, of which around three hundred have survived. The focus on the eastern white pine (Pinus strobus) was my husband’s idea, and most of the work has been his as well. But through several planting seasons, I’ve been there with him as the gofer and assistant stake and cage facilitator. Official jobs? Probably not, but they have been for me.
When we purchased the cabin, there were already many trees on the property. Scattered woodpecker holes dotted the oaks and maples, and many of the red and white pines, scarred by years of thunderstorms, needed to be cut down before they fell on us or the tiny green cabin.
And yet, we envisioned a cabin surrounded by pine gems. After all, what would the cabin be without the whoosh of air through a stand of white pine trees?
The white pine is considered a foundational tree, meaning it plays a major role in the forest. Because of its long life (often over three hundred years), colossal height, and sizeable canopy, it creates a habitat ready to shelter and feed many mammals and birds. It also helps the soil by improving water retention, which adds to fire prevention and resiliency of the forest. The original tall white pines on our property provide the bald eagles with a scouting perch to keep an eye on the loon nest we have anchored in our bay. It is quite the wake-up call at 4 a.m. as the loons cry out and the eagles screech. The white pines are at the center of that ruckus.
So we leapt into our task wholeheartedly.
We had planted flowers and vegetables before; how different could this be? That was before we considered the deer. The land was (and still is) riddled with deer tracks, so we knew they were there, but we hadn’t anticipated their voracious appetites.
At the time it was cut down in 1906, this white pine in Cass County was believed to be the largest in Minnesota. At least 425 years old, it had a six-foot diameter and yielded 6,300 board feet of lumber (photo by G.E. Marshall, US Forest Service).
Growing white pine trees in an area with many hungry deer has proven to be a project of hit and miss, and not for the faint of heart. That first year, we began our little tree planting experience and traveled to the cabin with our boxes of seedlings—hundreds of baby pines that had been
sent to our suburban Minneapolis doorstep. It made sense to us to plant in the spring, despite the fact that mother nature was still clinging to winter’s frost. A little daunting? Yes, but we were undeterred.
Our hands were cold. In fact, our whole bodies were cold. But we kept going. My husband dug a fifteen-inch hole, I grabbed a seedling, and he placed it in its new home. We didn’t really have a guide but instead planted the trees using intuition sprinkled with internet searches.
We knew we had to keep the deer away somehow. A white ribbon tied to each tree was supposed to scare the deer away as it waved in the early spring breeze. We witnessed from inside as the deer calmly walked up to our treasures, nonchalantly pulled the ribbon off the tree, and then took a big bite from the center of the seedling. They didn’t care that inside the warm cabin we were screaming.
The next year, we tried a different approach. We placed a stake in the ground and zip-tied each tree to the stake, allowing the tree to grow straight. We then encapsulated the trees in a plastic white netting, hoping it would deter the deer. Deer easily picked off the netting, stake and all, and discarded it to the ground, revealing a tasty snack. We were beginning to think we weren’t perpetuating the white pine but instead growing fat deer.
Through the first few years of planting, it was trial and error (mostly error), but we’ve had a few successes. We started to order bigger seedlings hoping they would be more prepared to defend against their enemies. But when the deer chomped off the central line of the tree, many of the trees said ha! and grew around the injury in odd angles. Thus began the years of the “Dr. Seuss” trees that looked as though they belonged in Horton Hears a Who! And yes, many of those trees have survived even though they look a little funny, with kinks meandering this way and that as they search for sunlight. It amazes me how persistent the little guys are. They knew they belonged there, and darn it if they weren’t going to thrive in some fashion. The shape of those white pines’ crowns is also more irregular naturally, adding to the Dr. Seuss image.
Netting protects white pine saplings from hungry deer (photo by Susan Latta).
Over the years my husband has even named a few of the trees. He began saying hello to Sarah or Ed as we passed by them—a joke to our already laughing adult children, who were hoping Dad wasn’t losing it. Unfortunately, poor Sarah succumbed when a strong winter storm covered her in ice and she broke in half, but Ed is now over ten feet tall!
Two years ago, just as we thought we had finally outsmarted the deer, straight-line winds powered through the area. Some of our taller pines (then about fourteen feet) bent over in the storm as large oak and older pine branches collapsed on the promising trees. We weren’t at the cabin when the storm hit, but we were there the next day, removing limbs so the pine “children” could once again stand tall. All have recovered beautifully.
Rob Latta plants pine saplings using stakes and netting, here assisted by golden retriever, Hobbes (photo by Susan Latta).
As the original and subsequent trees grew, we caged them first in four-foot metal fencing cages, then later six-foot cages. We tucked in straggling branches so there was no drive-by snacking as the deer wandered on the land. We staked them as well, so the deer or heavy snowfall couldn’t knock them over. Occasionally one or two trees survived in completely contorted metal cages. Since we don’t live at the cabin full time, we are still unsure what caused that destruction. We periodically look at the sunlight getting to the smaller trees. If there is an unwanted deciduous volunteer tree, my husband will trim it back, allowing the sun to reach the seedling. We’ve learned that they grow much faster this way.
The tallest trees are now about fourteen feet and soon we won’t need to surround them with metal fencing to protect them from the deer.
So far, we’ve planted over eight hundred seedlings. Out of that total number maybe 40 percent endure.
Our land has changed in the few short years we have owned it and we note the changes in the trees each season. “Wow, that one really grew.” Or “Did you see how great the tree looks down by the water?” The change takes time and we realize that a little patience goes a long way. Truly though, our relationship with the land is different because of planting the trees ourselves. Our small project will make a difference. Yes, to my husband and me, but certainly to those who come behind us. Our descendants will hopefully thank us and one day lean back, look up, and marvel at the well-rooted towering white pine trees.
And despite the ongoing battles of wits against our hoofed neighbors, we still delight to see deer wandering through the woods and hear our young grandson Henry shout, “look, reindeer!”
The White Pine’s Arrival In Minnesota
The white pine began to grow in Minnesota just after the last ice age about 7,000 years ago. Native people used the sap for waterproofing boats and baskets. The cones, which are long and narrow, were stewed and, along with the seeds, the mighty white pine added to their diet.
In the early 1800s, lumbermen traveled to Minnesota from Maine once those forests had been depleted. The white pine drew them in because of its straight trunk, making it easy to cut the long boards craved for building. The supply seemed endless, until it wasn’t. By the 1930s only 6 percent of the white pine forest remained available.
The Tree That Built Minnesota
Pinus strobus or white pine is the tree that built Minnesota. Before the loggers moved in, it was common to see white pines two hundred feet tall and over forty inches in diameter. Today, however, you are more likely to see trees around one hundred feet tall and two to three feet in diameter. The wood itself is strong, slow to rot, and easy to cut. Perfect for building. As the fur trade dwindled, lumbering became Minnesota’s principal industry. Initially, the cut trees were sent floating downriver to the sawmills. Later the railroads became the mode of transport. Five thousand miles of track were laid in northern Minnesota, opening new areas of the state. Over 600 million board feet of lumber were produced in 1899, making Minnesota the leading lumber producer in the world. Because there is no official board feet estimate by species in Minnesota today, it is difficult to estimate board feet of white pine. The Department of Natural Resources (DNR) reported processing about 25,000 cords of white pine, which equates to between five hundred and seven hundred board feet of finished lumber per cord. So the DNR estimates about 15 million board feet of lumber were produced from Minnesota’s 2024 harvest.
The Lost Forty
There are only a few old-growth white pine stands left in Minnesota. In 1882, a crew was hired to survey a small part of Minnesota. They sketched out the land and mistakenly put a lake in where, in fact, a pine forest stood. Because of this mistake, the pine trees were left alone and they grew unnoticed and unattended. In 1958, another crew realized the mistake and called this forest The Lost Forty. Some of these trees are now at least 350 years old. This famous forest is in Chippewa National Forest near Blackduck, Minnesota.
The Future of the White Pine
Now that many of the old-growth forests are gone, replacing as many of the cherished trees as we can is important. One million pine seedlings are being planted on state lands every year by the DNR. The Nature Conservancy has also joined forces with the DNR and public and private landowners to manage and conserve forests in northeastern Minnesota. Additionally, the Red Lake Band of Ojibwe is replanting thousands of acres near Bemidji with the aim of foresting 1,000 acres annually.