A couple years ago I bought a house near Mount Sentinel in Missoula. It has a big backyard shaded in warm weather by a huge tree. I couldn’t place the tree type. The sturdy main branches grew up, bent a little to the side, then dipped toward the earth as if they had decided the sun wasn’t as enticing as they’d thought. Or maybe they were just lazy. The green leaves were shaped like those of a linden – heart-like.
I hung a swing from its odd branches for the grandchildren, appreciated its shade in the ever-warmer summer heat, and wondered what kind of tree it was. A pair of doves set up house in the upper branches and squirrels had the run of its ample arms.
Eventually, a neighbor told me it was a tulip maple, brought here as a sapling by the house’s former owner from the Daly Mansion grounds in Hamilton.
I checked the internet. There were tulip poplars, also known as yellow poplars or tulip trees. No tulip maples. Tulip trees, in the magnolia family, aren’t supposed to grow in the West, although there are apparently five on the state capitol grounds in Olympia, Washington. I’d thought I’d seen the real thing in Washington, DC, blooming with big yellow flowers. No such beauties adorned my backyard. Instead, in late summer my tree spurts out pods of green string that develop tiny yellow and white flowers. Very fragrant. They die and the carcasses litter the yard, their sticky life blood clinging to the grass. They will not be raked up. Maybe my tree was a close relative, or a mutant?
Recently, I had a meeting in Nashville, Tennessee, one of three states claiming the tulip tree as its state tree. I hopped on a bus searching the town for a tree that looked like mine. Nothing.
Exasperated, I did more research. Of the 500 plant species that grow at the Daly Mansion, one tulip tree is referenced in a 2018 article. Another tidbit: tulip trees are valuable climate change fighters due to their big carbon sink capacity.
Oh, it would be so cool to have one of these in my backyard, doing its part to fight global warming. Could I have a renegade East Coast tree behind my house? I decided to go to the source. With my photos, plastic bag of dead leaves, and some remaining seed pods, I set out on an early winter drive toward Hamilton and the Daly Mansion. I would compare them with the alleged dormant tulip tree out there in the unfriendly western weather.
Driving south, the Bitterroot Mountains rose in the west sporting a crown of snow. After 45 miles, I turned onto the Daly driveway and arrived at the stately old mansion, now in public trust. The current director guided me in to study the estate’s tree map. No tulip trees were on the key, but there were white poplars. Since tulip trees have many names, including yellow poplars, maybe these were what I was looking for. Bundled up, we went out the back door onto the porch looking over the former playgrounds of the wealthy with those fabulous Bitterroot peaks as a backdrop. We found the white poplars near the giant old swimming pool, long out of service but still adorned by weathered wicker furniture in front of so many white-doored changing rooms. No resemblance. Wrong leaves, no branches changing their minds and growing back down toward the ground. Nada.
On my way back home I bought a couple old tree books at a used bookstore. Flipping through I found my tree with the bendy branches, the long seed pods, and the linden-like leaves. Those leaves should have been my first clue. A magnificent European linden. Valued for its “weeping habit.” Ah – those drooping branches. Had I wisely started with a field guide I could have saved myself a wild goose – er, tulip – chase. But seeing the Daly Mansion and the Bitterroots in early winter was so worth it.
Today’s Field Note was written in the Field Notes Writing Workshop at the Montana Natural History Center. This is Jan VanRiper for Field Notes, brought to you by the Montana Natural History Center, providing natural history education for schools and the public throughout Montana. To find out about upcoming events and programs at the Center, call 406.327.0405, or visit our website at MontanaNaturalist.org.
