Year of the Pig

17. Slash Pine

17 slash Pine These plants have stories to tell. Some are quiet, gentle tales of our beloved wildflowers. Others, like the historic yellow pines, roar like thunder out of the pages of our pioneer past. Through their stories, I believe we can forge new connections with our collective past, and, on a more personal level, with our own ancestors. —Fred Nation, Where the Wild Illicium Grows, 2002 Slash pine (Pinus elliottii): One of four species that may be sold as “southern yellow pine,” the others being shortleaf, loblolly, and of course, longleaf. Compared to its weedy northern neighbor loblolly, slash pine is superior in almost every characteristic: disease, insect, and fire resistance, wood quality, form, pinestraw, and lifespan. Compared to its immediate neighbor longleaf, slash is inferior in virtually all of these same characteristics. And yet, slash is a vital and native component of many Florida and Gulf Coast landscapes. In natural fire-maintained forests of the lower Coastal Plain, longleaf dominated the uplands while slash gained the upper hand on wet soils near drains, swamps, and flatwood sites. In south Florida, the two trees are so similar in appearance that early explorers mistook them for the same species. To review my attempts at killing a pig or two in Florida: the first two afternoon hunts in July took place near Florala, Alabama, where I may have possibly heard one pig squeal in over seven hours on the stand. The next three 172 cHaPter 17 morning hunts and two afternoon hunts were the first week in November, an hour east of Tallahassee. Pigs had come within twenty yards of my stand, but only when it was too dark to see them. After seven hunts, Florida still hadn’t put a pig in front of my stand during daylight hours. I called Dan, the landowner near Florala. Dan would let me hunt for the same deal worked out previously: $25 for corn to pre-bait the stands and $50 for each pig shot. It would be a cheap deal if I ever saw a pig. Dan was baiting the same stand I’d hunted in July. Plus he had put up an automatic feeder on another part of his property. He suggested hunting the new feeder. “I went over this morning to change out the spinning unit and the ground was torn up. Some of the biggest hog tracks I’ve ever seen were beneath the feeder. If you don’t do any good there, you are welcome to go back and hunt the other spot. I don’t have other hunters coming in until next weekend.” I decided to follow Dan’s advice. I took off early on a Friday afternoon, November 30, stopping by his house for directions to the new spot, a little west of the previous stand. From the edge of Dan’s property it was a short walk through a slash pine plantation on what looked like old agricultural land. Terraces were evident on the recently established food plot. Entering a low shooting house, I was pleased to see a padded chair that was every bit as comfortable as it appeared . The shooting house was on the edge of a shooting lane/food plot that had been cleared out of the fire-excluded slash pine plantation. An automatic feeder on a tripod stood a little less than a hundred yards downhill. The whole food plot had been planted to a green cover crop of rye, oats, or wheat. Excepting wet drains, all this area would have been longleaf pine forest a hundred years ago. As in most of Florida, the longleaf in this area had been cleared decades before. Most areas have been replanted to slash pine and deprived of fire, seriously degrading the longleaf ecosystem. In the absence of fire, the herbaceous layer disappears rather quickly, replaced by a shrub layer. The soils and native species on this site were very similar to those on the Solon Dixon Center and the Conecuh National Forest. Luckily, only a small percentage of the Dixon Center had gone this long without fire. slasH Pine 173 The two big winners in this forest were yaupon and Chinese privet. The yaupon , at least, was a native species. Another big winner was Japanese climbing fern, an invasive species from Asia whose vines were tying the privet and yaupon together in an impenetrable jungle. Owing to their low, stocky forms...