Lessons from the Wolf; June 2004; Scientific American Magazine; by Jim Robbins; 6 Page(s)

Several scrawny cottonwood trees do not usually generate much excitement in the world of ecology. But on a wind-whipped August afternoon in Yellowstone National Park's Lamar Valley, William J. Ripple, a professor of botany at Oregon State University, stands next to a 12-foot-high cottonwood tree and is quietly ecstatic. "You can see the terminal bud scars," the bespectacled Ripple says, bending the limber tree over to show lines that mark a year's growth of a foot or more on the broom-handle-size trunk. "You can see that elk haven't browsed it this year, didn't browse it last year and, in fact, haven't browsed it since 1998.

Ripple gestures at the sprawling mountain valley around us and points out that although numerous other cottonwoods dot the landscape, this knot of saplings comprises the only young ones - the rest of this part of the Lamar is a geriatric ward for trees. The stately specimens that grow in the valley bottom are 70 to 100 years old, and not a newcomer is in sight to take their place. On the hillside, aspen trees present a similar picture. Groves of elderly aspen tremble in the wind, but no sprouts push up in the understory.