LOOKING FOR LONGLEAF

A learned stroll through the shady groves of the South, past and present, where the longleaf pine once flourished and may yet rise again.

North Carolinian journalist and debut author Earley assembles an impressive sweep of knowledge in these pages, which open with a startling observation: where forests of longleaf pine once “sprawled over nearly 150,000 square miles, covering a wide swath of every coastal state from the James River in southeastern Virginia to the shores of Lake Okeechobee in the Florida peninsula and west to southeastern Texas,” its numbers had fallen by some 98 percent by the end of the 20th century—and only 12,000 acres of old-growth forest remain, scattered across the South. Where did the trees go? In times past, writes Earley, the longleaf formed the basis of a thriving pitch and tar industry, which was vital to the navies of Europe in those days of ocean-crossing wooden ships; not for nothing are North Carolinians called “Tarheels.” The industry emerged slowly at the beginning of the 18th century but quickly became of major importance, so that in the 1720s, “120 vessels were engaged in the coastwise and transatlantic trade of colonial tar, pitch, and raw gum.” The tree faced a new enemy long after the wooden ships disappeared: the US Forest Service, which embraced a policy of fire suppression and aggressive logging until very recently, but now finds itself in the position of retooling from being “the worst land managers in the world” to being champions of environmental restraint. Blending journalism with natural and human history and a keen appreciation for the land, Earley offers persuasive advocacy for a tree little known outside of its immediate region—but one of obvious importance, and one whose ongoing restoration can show other regions how to bring their old ecosystems back to life.

Richly detailed, impeccably researched, and at times controversial: this merits a place alongside Bartram in the library devoted to the South.