Lesson CCIII

The Norway Spruce

Leading thought—The Norway spruce is one of the most valuable of the trees which have come to America from Europe. It grows naturally in high places and in northern countries where there is much snow; its drooping twigs cannot hold a great burden of snow, and thus it escapes being crushed.

Method—This lesson should begin in the autumn when the cones are ripe. The tree should be observed by all of the pupils, and they should bring in twigs and cones for study in the schoolroom. The lesson should be taken up again in May when the trees are in blossom.

Observations—1. What is the general shape of the tree? Do the lower branches come off at the same angle as the upper? If untrimmed, what can you see of the trunk? Do the lower branches rest upon the ground? What advantage would this be to the tree in winter? Do the twigs stand out, or droop from the branches? Of what advantage is this in case of heavy snow? What is the color of the foliage? Where did the Norway spruce come from?

2. What is the color of the twig? How are the leaves set upon it? Are there more leaves on the upper than on the under side of the twigs of this year’s growth? Of last year’s growth? Brush your hand along a branch toward the tip. Do the leaves prick? Brush from the tip backward. Is the result the same? Why is this angle of the leaves to the twig a benefit during snowstorms?

3. Take a single leaf. What is its shape? How many sides has it? Is it soft or stiff? Is it sharp at the tip? Describe the buds which are forming for next year’s growth. Look along the twigs and see if you can discover the scales of the bud which produced last year’s growth?

4. Where are the cones borne? How long does it take a cone to grow? Is it heavy? Is there resin on it? Note that the scales are set in a spiral around the center of the cone. Wind a string around a cone following the same row of scales. How many rows between those marked with a string? Look into the tip of a cone and see the spiral arrangement. Sketch and describe a cone-scale, paying special attention to the shape of the tip. Try to tear a cone apart. Is this easily done? Hang a closed cone in a dry place and note what happens.

5. Describe the seed, its wings and where it is placed at the base of the scale. How many seeds under each scale? When do the cones open of themselves to scatter the seed? Do you observe squirrels tearing these apart to get the seed?

6. The Norway spruce blossoms in May. Find the little flower which will produce the cone, and describe it. What color is it? Is it upright or hanging down? Do the scales turn toward the tip or backward? Why is this? Where are the pollen-catkins borne? How many of them arise from the same place on the twig? Can you see the little scales at the base of each pistillate catkin? What are they? Are they very full of pollen? Do the insects carry the pollen for the Norway spruce, or does the wind sift it over the pistillate blossoms? After the pollen is shed, note if the scales of the young cones close up. How long before the cones begin to droop? Do you think it is their weight which causes them to droop?

7. What use do we make of the Norway spruce? What is it used for in Europe?

“All outward wisdom yields to that within,
Whereof nor creed nor canon holds the key;
We only feel that we have ever been
And evermore shall be.

And thus I know, by memories unfurled
In rarer moods, and many a nameless sign,
That once in Time, and somewhere in the world,
I was a towering pine.

Rooted upon a cape that overhung
The entrance to a mountain gorge; whereon
The wintry shade of a peak was flung,
Long after rise of sun.

There did I clutch the granite with firm feet,
There shake my boughs above the roaring gulf,
When mountain whirlwinds through the passes beat,
And howled the mountain wolf.

There did I louder sing than all the floods
Whirled in white foam adown the precipice,
And the sharp sleet that stung the naked woods,
Answer with sullen hiss.

I held the eagle till the mountain mist
Rolled from the azure paths he came to soar,
And like a hunter, on my gnarled wrist
The dappled falcon bore.”

—From “The Spirit of the Pine,” Bayard Taylor.