On a recent afternoon, as I was crossing the parking lot at Trinity Healthcare on the way to visit an aunt, I smelled something putrid, like dead fish. I had just ducked under a row of Bradford pears in full bloom, the source of the foul odor.
Friday evening after a dinner out, Beth and I took Jess Lyons Road from Highway 45 back into town. Along the way we passed dozens of Bradford pears covered in white blooms. This time of year the landscape — especially here in Lowndes County — is littered with these white lollipop-shaped confections. The sight made us cringe.
What’s wrong with Bradford pears (sometimes called Callery pears), you ask. Plenty, as it turns out.
The tree, native to China and Vietnam, became popular with landscapers and nurserymen back in the 1960s. It grew fast, was pretty, resisted disease, had beautiful mahogany-colored fall foliage and would grow anywhere.
Landscapers planted the trees in shopping malls, new subdivisions and along city streets.
For two conspicuous local examples, drive through Propst Park or past Ola J. Pickett Park in Caledonia.
The downside, however, is troubling. Like other invasive species — think kudzu, privet, elaeagnus, Chinese tallow, Chinese wisteria — sterile Bradford pears cross-pollinate with other pears, and their seeds are spread by birds.
The seeds sprout in wooded areas and vacant lots and eventually crowd out native plants, creating a food desert for birds and insects, which are vital to our ecosystem, and, ultimately, human existence.
“I detest them,” said Debbie Lawrence of Bloomers Nursery in Caledonia. “We haven’t sold them in several years. Most suppliers don’t even list them.”
Mary Tuggle, manager of Walton’s Greenhouse, says though she still gets a lot of requests for the Bradford pear, their popularity is waning.
“People say they don’t want them to split like their neighbors’ (trees),” Tuggle said.
In addition to splitting easily, the Bradford pear has thorns that can puncture a tractor tire.
They have a short lifespan. In about 20 years they begin to fall apart.
“I think people are realizing what a bad idea they are,” said Lawrence. “They lined the walkway in the park in Caledonia,” she said. “Every third one has blown over.”
South Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania and Delaware have outlawed the commercial sale of the tree.
The South Carolina Forestry Commission and Clemson University Extension Service are giving three-gallon native trees to property owners who cut down Bradford pears.
Nationwide there is a growing awareness of the value of native plants. This is a broad topic beyond the scope of this column.
Douglas Tallamy, one of the leading lights of a burgeoning backyard native plant movement, spoke at the Landscape Architecture Department at MSU this past week. If you’re interested in the subject, visit Tallamy’s website, homegrownnationalpark.org
Instead of the Bradford pear, Debbie Lawrence recommends crabapples, the native eastern redbud and the sometimes finicky dogwood for spring blooms.
Tuggle says her backyard pasture is full of Bradford pears “planted” by birds.
“We just cut ‘em down,” she said.
“They are kind of like kudzu,” said Lawrence of the Bradford pear. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.
“It is as bad an idea as kudzu. It may be worse.”
Birney Imes ([email protected]) is the former publisher of The Dispatch.
Birney Imes III is the immediate past publisher of The Dispatch.
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