It seemed strange to fixate on a single tree for more than a decade but that’s exactly what happened. I notice it a few weeks every autumn and then quickly forget about it for another year. That all started sometime around 2013 when I began to ride a stretch of the Capital Crescent Trail along the Potomac River as part of my weekly bicycle circuit. The tree was ancient and gnarled. It sat unloved in a narrow strip sandwiched between the Trail and the historic Chesapeake and Ohio Canal towpath in Washington, DC (map). However, that wasn’t the most unusual feature and it wouldn’t ordinarily grab my attention as I whizzed by. Rather it was the tree’s unusual fruit that caught my eye.
It looked like a green brain and surprisingly solid. I couldn’t really explain it although I knew I didn’t want to run over it. I’d probably tumble off my bike. But a search engine query for “fruit looks like a brain” soon offered an answer. This was an Osage Orange (Maclura pomifera), also known as Hedge Apple, Bois d’arc, or even Monkey Brain, plus many other imaginative names.
Some Context
Their natural, original range (above) wasn’t very large, primarily a swath of East Texas into neighboring Oklahoma and Arkansas. However they have spread widely through the southern Midwest and beyond thanks to human intervention. Much of its concentration overlaps with lands historically occupied by Native Americans of the Osage Nation. So that explains the plant’s most common name.
It’s quite useful. Settlers of European descent planted lines of Osage Oranges to create hedgerows before the invention of barbed wire. The wood also displays a number of desirable qualities, such as being quite strong, pliant and resistant to rot. It was prized by Native Americans for making hunting bows, which is why French settlers called it bois d’arc (literally “bow wood”). Also it burns long and hot, making it an ideal fuel. I’m actually a little surprised that it’s not more commercially harvested because it seems to have a lot of attractive features.
Pondering the Fruit
But let’s get back to those weird brain-shaped fruits, which aren’t actually related to oranges, but something closer to mulberries. Technically they are edible. They won’t harm anyone but apparently they taste pretty bad. I saw references to people toasting the seeds (like one does with pumpkin seeds), following a laborious process of soaking and drying. That’s because the fruit exudes a sticky latex-like substance which is great for repelling insects but not so useful for human culinary enjoyment. I’m not sure it’s worth the effort but some people swear by it.
Even though Osage Orange trees are common in the interior United States, I’ve only ever seen a single specimen where I live in the Mid-Atlantic, the one along the bike trail. But I’ve talked about it a lot with my family and I’ve even threatened to plant one in our yard several times. So naturally they’ve been aware of my unnatural fascination with this tree for years.
Recently my older kid in Michigan noticed Osage Oranges for sale at a farmers market near Detroit. Supposedly they repel spiders if one believes the local folklore. Put a few around doorways and and spiders won’t cross the threshold, and people buy them for that. I think it relates back to the fact that insects don’t seem to eat them. I guess people take the next leap, that somehow it scares away bugs. I doubt it actually works that way and I don’t mind spiders so I don’t intend to test it. The fruit does have a pleasant smell though — I brought one home from a recent bike ride — and additional research shows that some people use them as a natural air freshener. That one I can believe.
My Mystery Tree
However, one mystery still remained. How did this lone Osage Orange tree end-up at this secluded spot, with no other trees of its kind anywhere nearby? Maybe others exist in the Washington, DC area but I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve never seen another one. Maybe I’m not looking in the right places. However, it’s unlikely to have sprouted all on its own; someone must have planed it intentionally.
Osage Orange trees can live for centuries, and my specimen was old. Well, I don’t know how old. I’m not a tree expert. But “old”. The C&O Canal operated until 1924. So was this tree a hundred years old? Did it date all the way back to the canal era? And why would someone plant a single Osage Orange all by itself more than a mile away from the nearest canal keepers cottage?
On the other hand, the Capital Crescent Trail followed the path of a local branch of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. That one operated until 1973. Certainly the tree overlapped with the railroad era. Even so, I can’t imagine someone stopping a train at this random spot to plant and tend a tree.
Perhaps I’ll never know. Nonetheless, every November I can reflect upon it as I dodge Osage Oranges dropped along my path.
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