Siberian Elm...
Are the siberian Elms a native tree? Or were they brought here? And what are the noticeable differences from what we commonly call American Elm?
Read carefully:
"Invasion of the world’s worst tree
—SUSANA VINCENT
If you’ve noticed some sprightly, leafy saplings thrusting skyward at an astonishing rate around your property since last summer’s copious rains and abundant winter snow: Beware. If you’re even thinking about watering them in anticipation of nice shade trees like you had back home: Beware. Beware if you have a septic tank or a wall or a roof or a vehicle; beware if your allergies are worsening each year; beware if you enjoy long views; beware if you’re concerned about wildfire.
The army of trees clogging the arroyos around the Village of Placitas and marching unimpeded along the highway is an official nuisance tree called the Siberian Elm. For those who remember the bosque fire of 2003 which burned nearly four hundred acres straddling the Rio Grande, the Siberian Elm is part of the deadly triumvirate of alien trees that fueled those flames. According to the USDA, “The spread of salt cedar (Tamarix ramosissima), Russian olive (Elaeagnus angustifolia), and Siberian elm (Ulmus pumila) has contributed to the continued degradation of riparian ecosystems. These exotic species are highly invasive and will continue to spread, not only along riparian habitats, but also into abandoned croplands and other sites. All of these species strongly modify their environment by displacing native plant species, using great amounts of ground water, increasing the risk of fire, blocking stream channels, etc. They also reduce the abundance and diversity of wildlife species.”
From the Rio Grande to the Upper Sonoran/Piñon-Juniper Zone of the Sandias, the Siberian Elm is pursuing its invasion on a frightening scale, sucking up water, inviting wildfires, crowding out native plants and wildlife forage, and destroying property. It hosts the stinky Elm Leaf Beetle, which likes to overwinter in houses. It makes stinky firewood. Even its shade is unpleasant, dropping gloppy stuff on the heads or hoods of those beneath. (I can’t tell you what the gloppy stuff is, but any lifelong Albuquerque resident will attest to its existence.) My own car has been glopped, my septic tank invaded, my wall broken; the beetles have shared my bed. I have nightmares about a juniper down the road, encircled by elms, getting its life sucked out like a fly’s by a spider. So pay attention.
The Siberian Elm, not to be confused with its smaller, benign cousin, the Chinese Elm (Ulmus parvifolia) survives both extreme drought and extreme cold. It’s so tough that if you cut it down it sprouts from the roots like heads on the monstrous Hydra of Greek myth, and even small seedlings cut your hands when you try to pull them. It is a greedy, thirsty tree, its roots working their way into septic tanks and wells, and it easily overwhelms native and garden plants. Its branches are brittle and easily broken by wind and winter storms, endangering buildings, cars and humans. The deadfall is highly flammable.
What’s more, the Siberian Elm reproduces prodigiously. Its seed pods, white and coin-like, are borne by wind and tires and feet and are capable of sprouting between patio bricks and chinks in foundations; they are a nuisance in themselves, clogging drains and forming dunes against doors and windows. This year they’ve sprouted in dense colonies, especially on disturbed ground near roadways and construction sites, but individuals sprout wherever the wind blows. The seedlings are sneaks, tending to hide within other plants and grow undetected for a month or two until they’re five feet tall and practically indestructible.
Elms are both male and female; unlike the one-seeded juniper, they all produce pollen. While many locals blame junipers for their allergies, the Siberian Elm is the greater culprit; nearly everyone is allergic to the pollen.
There’s no easy way to get rid of these trees; rumor has it that they can survive a nuclear blast. You can carefully burn the seeds. You have to poison rampant seedlings. If you cut down a large tree (that is, before it falls—the species is notoriously short-lived) you must drill holes in the stump, fill them with appropriate chemicals and monitor them vigilantly. The most effective ways to, uh, neutralize a Siberian Elm are girdling—removing a section of bark in a complete circle around the trunk; and frilling—axing downward, making shallow cuts to just below the bark, and applying a chemical labeled “frill application.” Frilling takes advantage of the tree’s circulatory system (phloem) to send the chemical to the roots. You’ll still have to cut the tree down before it falls on someone, but at least you won’t have to worry about regrowth.
Resistant to Dutch Elm Disease which de-treed Main Streets all over America, the Siberian Elm was imported from, yep, Siberia, as a replacement. It was brought to Albuquerque in the 1860s by Mayor Clyde Tingley to create an “oasis in the high desert.” A hundred years later, the tree had earned the nickname “Tingley’s Folly,” the seed pods “Tingley’s Snow.” Now the tree is a serious federal, state, county and community problem, and control measures are urgently needed. It’s been illegal to plant Siberian Elms in Albuquerque since the city’s pollen ordinance of 1996. Tijeras has organized battalions of volunteers to fight the invasion. New Mexico is addressing the infestations on federal, tribal and state holdings. You can contact local agricultural extension services, the state and the USDA for information. A petition to the County Commission to designate our area “a noxious weed control district” is the logical first step in getting assistance.
The Siberian Elm is dangerous around structures, especially schools and roads; it is hazardous to respiratory health and water systems; it tempts wildfires, hosts nuisance insects, and alters entire life zones. It’s designated a noxious weed and exotic invader in at least twenty-five states and continues to spread aggressively. It’s described by horticultural writer Dr. Michael Dirr as “one of, if not the, world’s worst trees.” So, once again—beware. If you allow it to grow on your property, you’d better buy more homeowners’ insurance."
If you find it, cut it, burnt it, and thus get rid of it.
