By Burt Glover

It has been another barren year for the sweetgum in my backyard. In years past, I cursed this giant, 30-inch diameter tree growing on my back property line, especially when trying to get my mower to hack through the seemingly millions of seedpods (also known as gumballs) that it had dropped on my lawn. For the past two years, however, there have been few of the seedpods to be found, which saddens me.

Most people recognize the star-shaped leaves of this tree in the spring and summer. For those who have stepped barefoot on any of its spiky seed pods — aptly named “the sandspurs of the forest” — this tree will not be forgotten. 

Sweetgum pods appear to hang onto the trees throughout much of the winter– giving the impression of a holiday tree decorated with ornaments. Quite a contrast with the sameness of the surrounding winter landscape. Two years ago, I discovered another reason to appreciate those seedpod “gumballs.” Looking upward one day at the bare branches against the gray of a winter sky, I noticed the silhouettes of numerous birds, clinging upside-down, swinging on the “ornaments.” I was astounded.

I could not determine the identity of the birds, so I searched the internet. It turns out that numerous birds visit the sweetgums in winter. Could it have been a flock of goldfinches that I saw? They are said to be especially fond of the seeds within the pods and flock in large numbers to feast. Or perhaps it was a mix of the many birds — chickadees, juncos, sparrows, cardinals, towhees and wrens, to name a few — who utilize this food source. Meanwhile, on the ground, mourning doves, turkeys, quail and ducks also gobble up the falling seeds. I read of one scientific study where a wood duck was dissected, and over 1,000 of the tiny, winged sweetgum seeds were found in its crop. 

For the past two years, however, the pods have been absent — and also, with that, the flocks of birds. It all has to do with the cleverness of trees. It takes a lot of effort for a tree to produce a seed crop. It is costly, energy-wise, and doing so actually stunts the growth of the tree. If they were to produce a bumper crop of seeds every year, the critter population that eats those seeds would explode– devouring all in sight. Wild nut and fruit trees have overcome this problem by regularly limiting output. Low production years keep the critter populations down… and then, a massive explosion of seeds in one year (more than the critters can handle) will assure the survival of the seeds and the continuation of the species . Pretty wily, eh? (How do they do that?)

Most of my childhood years were lived aside the dirt roads in Aiken’s horse district, which was our playground. Among the countless trees to climb was one very large sweetgum, where I sometimes took refuge. Being the best climber in the neighborhood, I was actually the only one who could scale the height of that trunk to reach the higher branches, which extended over the dirt road. From this vantage point, I could see the neighborhood rooftops, trees, and the sky beyond. The tree was all mine, so I had all the time in the world to dream of the things that an eleven-year-old boy dreams of; to crush the leaves of the tree and smell their aromatic scent; to study the neat lines of holes drilled by a sapsucker into the trunk of the tree.

One winter, a perilous winter ice storm wrenched and felled a large limb from the tree. Come spring, when I climbed up to investigate, I saw numbers of honeybees and other insects swarmed to drink from the sap that was oozing out of the large wound left by missing limb. Birds were, likewise, attracted to the sap and its attendant insects. Not knowing if the tree was poisonous, I tried a tiny bit of the sap…. aromatic, slightly bitter, slightly sweet. Nothing to inspire further curiosity.

I later learned that dried sweetgum sap has long been a traditional treat for Southerners… relished as a chewing gum, before chewing gum ever became a readily available commodity. 

The sap of the sweetgum appears to have some surprising medicinal qualities. Traditionally, it has been used to treat coughs, ulcers and skin problems. More recently, extracts of it have been found to be a strong antimicrobial agent, effective against even multi-drug resistant bacteria. Also, the sap possesses antifungal properties, and may suppress hypertension. Extracts of the seeds contain anticonvulsant properties; a possible treatment for epilepsy.

These days, while the trend among home owners and municipalities is cutting down sweetgum trees to keep those pesky gumballs from littering the landscape, I think I will keep mine… for the birds; and for the thirty plus species of moths and butterflies it hosts, including the beautiful luna and promethea moths; and for the stunning maroons, oranges and yellows of its fall foliage. And, as concerns those cursed gumballs, maybe I can fashion some decorative Christmas wreaths from them. Sweetgum trees are not so bad. 

Contributor Burt Glover became an accidental naturalist during his earliest childhood days exploring the dirt roads, backyards, polo field and barns of the Magnolia-Knox-Mead neighborhood of 1950s Aiken. Birds are his first love, and he can identify an impressive range by song alone. He asserts that he is an observer, not an expert, on the topics of his writings, which range from birds, box turtles, frogs and foraging, to wasps, weeds, weather and beyond