The modern arborist fields a variety of concerned calls from clients. Because we are dealing with a unique and always changing urban forest, we deal with many complex issues between trees and people. People are constantly encroaching on the natural environment, and sometimes this drama is not always on a grand stage, but between very thin lines.

“Well we’re not sure exactly where they were, that’s what we were hoping you could help us with.”

This topic certainly calls for a long whip, a leather jacket and an adventure-filled fedora. A fitting image: the archaeological arborist.

Like all ancient history and lost civilizations, there are big secrets in the soil for the case of missing trees. Secrets that come in the form of mechanical damage on leftover roots, a spatter here and there of wood chips crispy with decay. Slight ground depressions whisper, too, about things that once were; pockets of aerated soil churned over many months ago. This is the paper trail of growth locked away in the soil matrix just under foot. If we listen to the faint root system singing softly, sadly, maybe it is the song of trespass. It is true, removing a tree, chipping it and then finally stump grinding it into oblivion is a good way to make problems go away. But as the old saying goes, “you’re only as good as your final clean-up.”

I can certainly unearth portions of leftover anchorage and absorption organs to build a body that once was. The fine feeder roots pop out of the partially settled soil, and left to the demise of desiccation, they are bleached bone white in the late June sun. Further down, I feel an absorptive thud on my fiberglass soil prob of a mutilated buttress root, and so I dig down gently and brush away the bits of soil aggregate to study the subject. My 35mm camera shutter slaps away as I record my findings. I can painstakingly begin to recreate the tree from little bits and pieces of extremities left over at the scene. It is a slow and careful process and definite process.

I hope to not end up in a snake pit.

But the search doesn’t stop at the grave. The archeological arborist will ask questions, search photos, receipts, anything to trace down the missing subject. Maybe summon old teachers, friends, relatives-anyone or anything with a story, a memory, a feeling-anyone or anything that may lead to a clue. Maybe there is a tell-tale sign in an old aerial photograph, perhaps an an old property owner that knew the trees when they were young, innocent; before the heat of passion scorched the already parched earth where property boundaries meet.

X marks the spot.