Osage Orange—God's Gift to the Prairie Farmer

"this curious fruit, which, when first discovered lying neglected beneath the tree, led the voyagers to fear and report it as a poison" wrote Thomas Nuttall (1842). Pete unseth photo.

In March of 1804, Meriwether Lewis, co-captain with William Clark of the Corps of Discovery, stopped at the home of trader Pierre Chouteau in St. Louis (Missouri Territory). The Chouteau brothers were supplying their expedition, which would depart in May, but this visit was for another matter. Lewis wanted to see Chouteau's garden.

President Thomas Jefferson had appointed Lewis expedition botanist. He was to study and record "the soil & face of the country, it's growth & vegetable productions, especially those not of the U.S. and the dates at which particular plants put forth or lose their flower, or leaf" (source). Given this assignment, there was good reason to visit Chouteau. The trader had lived in Louisiana Territory since birth, knew the Osage Indians well, and was familiar with their use of native plants, some of which he had planted in his garden.

Pierre Chouteau; Missouri Historical Society.

Lewis took cuttings from Chouteau's trees, and sent them to Jefferson, with a letter of explanation:

"I send you herewith inclosed, some slips of the Osages Plums, and Apples. I fear the season is too far advanced for their success. Had I earlyer learnt that these fruits were in the neighbourhood, they would have been forwarded at a more proper time ... I obtained the cuttings, now sent you, from the garden of Mr. Peter Choteau (1), who resided the greater portion of his time for many years with the Osage nation ..."

In his letter Lewis also explained the value of the Osage Apple (today's Osage Orange), presumably learned from Chouteau. "So much do the savages esteem the wood of this tree for the purpose of making their bows, that they travel many hundred miles in quest of it." Decades later, the tree would be highly esteemed by farmers as well—on the great sea of grass to the west.

In 1810 or thereabouts, another botanist visited Pierre Chouteau's garden. Thomas Nuttall, recently arrived from England, took a particular interest in the Osage Apple, which had not yet been introduced to science. He published the new species in 1818, naming it Maclura aurantiaca to honor his friend, geologist William Maclure; aurantiaca means orange, referring to the color of the wood. In 1906, this was replaced with the currently accepted name, Maclura pomifera (2).

"The wood is very heavy and of a Saffron yellow ..." wrote Nuttall (1818). Fernando Lopez Anido photo.

Nuttall's description was incomplete. For one thing, he hadn't seen any male flowers (Maclura flowers are unisexual; trees have either male or female flowers). This did not keep him from publishing, for the female flowers, and especially the fruit, are what make the species so distinctive.

Nuttall noted that Maclura's female flowers are arranged in dense globose clusters. Though tiny, each one has a style nearly an inch long. At maturity the 1-seeded fruits of the many flowers in a cluster coalesce into a "compound berry" (now known as a multiple fruit) containing "pulp nearly as succulent as that of an orange, sweetish and perhaps agreeable when fully ripe" (Nuttall also lacked information concerning edibility).

Maclura's female inflorescence of numerous tiny flowers, each with a long narrow style. H. Zell photo.

The Osage Orange is a multiple fruit (Nuttall's compound berry). H. Zell photo.

Multiple seedlings from a multiple fruit. Cbarlow photo.

Thirty years later, Nuttall, by then an acknowledged expert on the North American flora, was engaged in a monumental project—three supplemental volumes to François-André Michaux's North American Sylva (forest trees). Among the added species was Osage Orange. It appeared in the first volume, with a lengthy description and two beautiful plates.

Osage Orange, also called Bois d'Arc meaning Bow Wood (3): branch of a male plant on right, note the stout thorns; female flowers with long styles lower left; source.

Osage Orange; cross-section showing flowers united to form a multiple fruit; source.

Nuttall now had better information about edibility: "The fruit, when ripe, is succulent, has a sweetish but insipid taste, and is somewhat acrid. As far as we know, it is not eaten by any animal" (4). Also of interest (and timely) was an item in his description of the wood: "Another important use of the Maclura ... is that of forming live fences or hedges, for which purpose it is well adapted, as it bears cutting, grows close, and is very thorny."

OSAGE ORANGE—Can any one tell us more of this tree? We are desirous of having our columns made the vehicle for communicating information of any material that may be made valuable for hedging. This tree ... seems well adapted for that purpose; and if any has been used in Missouri or elsewhere, it would be a great favor to have an account of it furnished us. The Prairie Farmer, Vol. 1 No. 1, January 1, 1841.

While Nuttall was finishing his first volume, John A. Wright, a real estate speculator in the muddy young town of Chicago, was pursuing his dream. He wanted to help farmers who were struggling on the great sea of grass stretching a thousand miles to the west—"an open plain, so barren of timber, so huge of expanse as to bewilder, often frighten, them." The accumulated wisdom of settlers in wooded country to the east was of little use. Instead of clearing trees, prairie farmers toiled to break thick tough sod. And in the absence of trees, wood had to be imported at great expense (Lewis 1941).

No trees? Use sod! Soddy (sod house) in 1901; photographer unknown.

The need for helpful information was dire. Toward this end, Wright drummed up financial support for a non-partisan apolitical newspaper specifically for farmers. Though he had never farmed himself, he agreed to be the editor. On January 1, 1841, the first issue of The Union Agriculturalist and Western Prairie Farmer (soon shortened to The Prairie Farmer) was published (5).

On the front page, Wright appealed to readers for help:

TO THE PRACTICAL FARMER—Upon you we must rely for the matter that is to make this paper interesting and valuable. ... What we wish is this—as soon as any one obtains any valuable agricultural information, a recipe, a plan, or any other matter that would be adapted to our paper, that he would sit down immediately and communicate it. In this manner communications will be more to the point than if writers delay till they can collect several facts. ... if as soon as a farmer obtains one fact, he sends it, it will be what we want—"short and sweet."

Wright was well aware that some, perhaps many, would hesitate to contribute:

Many farmers may perhaps decline communicating their knowledge, because they may feel themselves incompetent to write for publication. To such we would say, that we most earnestly request you to send us articles, and should there be a word mis-spelt, or a sentence that might be improved by a little alteration, we will use our endeavors to make it right. What we want are facts—and perhaps a fact a farmer might possess, and which he declines sending, because he may perhaps not have enjoyed advantages of education in early life, might be of more service to the West, than all the matter we might publish in several numbers [issues].

Among Wright's passions was fencing, understandably. One of the biggest problems farmers faced was marauding wildlife and livestock. The cost of imported wooden fence was prohibitive and wire fences of the day—horizontal unarmed strands—were ineffective. So farmers tried hedges, also called living fences. Wright had read in the Hartford Silk Culturalist that Osage Orange trees made excellent hedges, and included that article in his paper. The final sentence was especially persuasive:

On the best authority, I am assured that the trees of the Osage Orange, when set at the distance of fifteen inches asunder, make the most beautiful as well as the strongest hedge fence in the world through which, neither men nor animals can pass.

Osage Orange—gift from God? JM DiTomaso photo (CC 3.0)

Osage Orange was soon a hot topic, with readers begging for information on where to buy viable seed and young plants. Fortunately Professor JB Turner of Illinois College had taken an interest. In the 1830s he had crossed "these beautiful prairies for some thousands of miles on horseback" concluding that whoever produced cheap effective fencing would go down in western history as the "greatest moral, intellectual, social and pecuniary benefactor." Perhaps in hopes of being that benefactor, Turner began a study of Osage Orange, periodically reporting his progress in The Prairie Farmer.

By 1848, Turner was convinced that "the Osage Orange is the shrub that God designed especially for the purpose of fencing the prairies." That November he announced he had plants for sale. He didn't know the exact price, but estimated a hedge 80 rods long (c. 1300 ft) would cost less than $15. By 1853 the price had dropped to $25 per mile, while a wooden fence "would cost $300 a mile and would be gone in 12 years" [due to prairie fires].

But in spite of its many advantages and perhaps divine origin, the Osage Orange hedge fell out of favor after just thirty years, a victim of innovation. JF Glidden of DeKalb, Illinois, had come up with a clever solution for wire fencing—barbs. Business took off immediately. The year after it started as a one-man operation, 70 men were producing three tons of fencing per day! (PF May 1875).

Both cheap effective wire fences and Osage Orange seeds were available in February 1875.

Note the clever design—"two No. 12 wires on one of which are wound the barbs ... they are then twisted holding the barbs immovable in their places" (May 1875).

Many hedges were removed and replaced with barbed wire. Others were simply abandoned. But Osage Orange trees did not disappear. Some were scavenged for fenceposts ...

Maclura posts are dense, strong, and resistant to rot and insects. Original source unknown.

... and Osage Orange hedges are still planted ...

Maclura hedge in Primorsko, Bulgaria; photo by Katya.

... and the legacy of the prairie farmers' blessing is still with us.

Thanks to prairie farmers, Maclura pomifera (dark green) occurs far beyond its original range (light green); from USDA, and Nelson et al. 2014 (6).

Notes

(1) Chouteau signed his letters apropos the recipient—Pierre Chouteau, Pedro Chouteau, and Peter Chouteau for French, Spanish, and English speakers.

(2) Osage Orange has a complicated nomenclatural history. It was first published in 1817 as Ioxylon pomifera by French naturalist Constantine Samuel Rafinesque, who then made a series of name changes: Toxylon pomiferum in 1818, Joxylon pomiferum in 1819. In the meantime Thomas Nuttall named it Maclura aurantica (1818). This became the accepted name perhaps because of Nuttall's greater botanical stature. In 1906 it was renamed M. pomifera, perhaps related to Rafinesque's first-published name. See Smith 1981. Further complications can be found in Reveal & Musselman.

(3) Maclura pomifera has many common names, including Osage Orange, Hedge Apple, Yellow Wood, Monkey Brains, Bow Wood, Bois d'Arc, Bodark and more.

(4) While Osage Orange pulp isn't edible, the seeds are. From Mike on Flickr: Osage orange trees are a magnet for squirrels. They typically sit on the ground at the base of the tree, or on a wide branch up in the tree to disassemble their prize, getting at the seeds. Piles of shredded hedge apples are a sure sign of squirrels in the area. The seeds are edible by people, but one must do like the squirrels, and remove the slimy husk to pick them out of the pulpy fruit.

(5) The Prairie Farmer is still being published, including a digital edition.

(6) The native range of Maclura pomifera is debated and probably irresolvable (Smith 1981).

Sources in addition to links in post

Earle, AS, and Reveal, JL. 2003. Lewis and Clark's Green World; the expedition and its plants. Farcountry Press.

Foley, WE. 1983. The Lewis and Clark Expedition's silent partners: the Chouteau Brothers of St. Louis. Missouri Historical Review 77:131–146. SHSMO

Lewis, L. 1941. Prairie Farmer, its beginnings. Prairie Farmer 11:5–17 (centennial edition). Illinois Digital Newspaper Collections.

Michaux, F-A, Nuttall, T, Hillhouse, AL, and Redouté, PJ. 1842. The North American Sylva; or, A Description of the Forest Trees of the United States, Canada, and Nova Scotia ... Vol. 1. BHL

Nelson, G, et al. 2014. Trees of Eastern North America. Princeton University Press.

Nuttall, T. 1818. The genera of North American plants and a catalogue of the species, to the year 1817 [Maclura 2:233]. BHL

Rafinesque, CS. 1817. Description of the Ioxylon pomiferum, a new genus of North American tree. American Monthly Magazine and Critical Review 2:118–119. Google Books

Reveal, JL, and Mussulman, JA. The Osage Orange; Maclura pomifera, in Discover Lewis & Clark (Lewis & Clark Trail Alliance). Accessed December 2024.

Does Dog Exist? A tail of philosophy, AI, and the pursuit of happiness.

Dog?

In a scan of The Atlantic homepage recently, I came across Are You a Platonist or an Aristotelian? I was especially intrigued by the subtitle: "Your answer may determine how happy you can be." I thought it might be useful given what's happening, both normal (Earth's 23º tilt + orbital position = shorter days) and very much abnormal (US elections).

However not far into the article I was sidetracked from my pursuit of happiness when I learned that "Does Dog exist?" is an eternal question among philosophers, debated at least since 400 BC. Was Plato right? Is there an unchanging ideal that is the true essence of Dog? Or was Aristotle right? Are our diverse too-short-lived dogs all that we have?

September 2014, Uinta Mountains.

September 2024, Canyonlands—our 10th anniversary :)

Having had canine field assistants most of my career, I tend to feel I'm an expert on such topics. Also, I think philosophers delight in making easy questions difficult, for example "Does Dog exist?". But my actual knowledge of philosophy is minuscule, so I queried DuckDuckGo (my preferred search engine).

At the top of the page, above the results, I was offered the services of DuckAssist—DDG's AI—which "scans the web for relevant content and then uses AI-powered natural language technology to generate a brief answer". I was very curious. I clicked on "Generate" and after just a second or two, DuckAssist replied:

"The question of whether a dog truly exists can be explored through philosophical discussions about particulars and universals. A dog, as a particular animal, is undeniably real and can be seen and touched, while the concept of "dog" as a category represents a set of characteristics that define what it means to be a dog."

That's it?! You would think that after nearly two millennia there would be a better answer. Maybe the problem lies with DuckAssist; after all this is a Beta release. So I continued to the two websites it recommended.

The first—Is a Dog Really a Dog? at Philosophy is Not a Luxury—was similar to DuckAssist's answer but much longer. It may have been the main or only source of content. Not convinced that "philosophy is not a luxury", I went to the second recommended site: I wag, therefore I am in The Guardian.

Philosopher in front, student (Mark Rowland) behind; promo photo from The Guardian.

At this site there was nothing about whether Dog exists. Instead, author Mark Rowland discussed dog philosophy in an excerpt from his book, The Happiness of Dogs. Apparently DuckAssist missed the mark by making a common AI error, specifically "Too Eager to Please". But it was a nice coincidence, as my dog does this too.

Just trying to help!

Emmie is half Basenji and therefore bred to kill small animals. This she does eagerly, even those that never lived. Likewise, an AI is driven by its breeding:

"Generative AI needs to create a response to your query, even if it isn’t capable of giving you one ... If the AI doesn’t have enough actual information in its knowledge base, it fills in gaps with stuff that sounds like it could be correct ..." (more here).

But is this really an error? After all, DuckAssist brought me back to the pursuit of happiness. Maybe it read my mind!

Rowland, a philosopher himself, considers dogs "natural philosophers"—they understand "what is important in [life], and how to live it. Philosophers have done their best to address these questions, with limited success. But dogs answer them effortlessly and decisively. Humans think about these questions, but dogs live them."

So much joy in life!

Our problem is that each of us is two beings—"one who thinks and one who is thought about". It's too much thinking that keeps us from being happy. In contrast, a dog—single being that it is—can enjoy something no matter how minor or familiar, and without asking why, or whether it's worth doing.

This certainly is true of Emmie. All it takes is these five words—"Let's go check the mail"—for her to explode with joy. She spins round and round, her small compact body making tight circles along the path all the way to the end of the fence, where she then barks and races off to get any rabbits hiding under the junipers (she has yet to catch one but no matter).

Rowland asks whether humans can ever experience this kind of joy. I too wonder. He says that because we have two lives—"the life that we live and the life that we think about, scrutinise, evaluate and judge"—we can never love life as a dog does. For one thing, a dog doesn't struggle to find meaning in life, while we too often do.

But there's hope. Both Rowland and I are sure that our dogs can help in our pursuit of happiness. We just have to pay attention.

Stay warm.

Maybe yoga will help (Upside-down Dog pose).

What's your purpose in life? To keep your dog happy, of course!

My role model?

NOTE  

The article about philosophy and happiness is by Arthur C. Brooks, a regular contributor to The Atlantic. He argues that Platonists emphasize what they are, which can interfere with happiness, while Aristotelians have greater potential for happiness because they define themselves mainly as works in progress. But he adds, "Neither being nor becoming is exclusively true or exists to the exclusion of the other." I can't say I was persuaded; maybe I didn't fully understand. If you want to give it a try, read the article here.