First Pecans

When I moved to Chatham in 1990, the land I bought came with a farmhouse they threw in for free.

One day when the sellers and I were out searching for survey irons, they pointed to a sad tree at the edge of the lot and said, "That's a sick walnut tree."

it took me a couple of years to get to it, but eventually I liberated the tree from the wisteria, poison ivy and winter creeper that came with the place.

In the process I noticed tiny, runted pecans at its base. It was not a sick walnut. It was a sick pecan tree.

I love pecans. My Dad loved pecans. I have fond memories of shelling pecans with him and my brothers at the kitchen table. Thus began my thirty five year quest to get a pecan harvest.

Assuming the problem was lack of a nearby mate I planted pecan trees in my fledgling "orchard."

Those trees grew into adolescence, started producing catkins, and handfuls of nuts. The big tree, however, did not participate. It dropped nothing but wormy, runted fruit.

One day I told this story to Basil, the owner of Leaf and Limb. They are the arborist company in Raleigh that doesn't cut down trees. Basil said, "I can fix that."

At that time I was thrity-two years with no luck, so I signed up for his medicine.

The Leaf and Limb truck that came down the lane looked like a short fuel truck with some custom pumps and rigging. On board was a load of compost tea mixed with biochar. The operator pulled out an air hammer type thing, and started injecting the mixture into the ground around the tree.

That fall nothing happened.

We did the treatment the following year, and bingo, I had an explosion of catkins like I have never seen. The spent catkin blossoms that fell from the tree formed a thick mulch layer.

As fall approached I studied the treetop with binoculars looking for fruit. Nothing.

Until a few nights ago. At this point in the season the leaves have fallen away. There is the odd tent caterpillar nest. The tree is not much to look at. To my astonishment there was a backlit baby squirrel--way out on a branch that looked entirely too small to hold its weight--happily eating pecans.

I didn't get one. Yet. Leaf and Limb will be coming back this winter to work their usual magic. Here's hoping that next year--after the squirrels have taken their share, there will be a large enough nut drop to include me.