A Brief History and Guide to California’s Native Oaks

Part 1: What is an oak tree?

Oak trees belong to the genus Quercus meaning “fine tree” in Latin. They are native to the northern hemisphere and consist of some 600 species. Oak trees are unique because of their fruit, the acorn, which is key in identifying oak species. They are known for being multi-trunked and growing wide canopies with sprawling, scraggly branches.

Part 2: A (Brief) History of Oaks In California 

The history of oaks in California is long and storied. Oaks have long had a place in Californian culture. We celebrate these trees that once covered a third of the land in the names of our cities, towns, and schools (think Oakland, Encino, Paso Robles, Live Oak High School...the list goes on). The native oaks of California once dominated the landscape. Accounts of Spanish explorers mention their awe at the sight of the abundance of oaks around them. However, those with the strongest connection to the oaks of California were and are indigenous people.

Map of the Ohlone peoples and their neighbors
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohlone

The people native to Santa Clara Valley are known as the Ohlone, which is a name that encompasses 50 separate tribes ranging from the South Bay all the way down to Monterey. Native oaks of California are ingrained in their society as a resource both physically and spiritually. Acorns were the primary food source for the Ohlone prior to the arrival of the Spanish and were held in high regard amongst the native people. Anthropologists estimate 75% of native Californians relied on acorns in their daily diet. Their new year, a joyous occasion, was marked by the acorn harvest. The Ohlone people would dance amongst the oak groves each year to promote a good harvest. During the acorn harvest, entire families would go out and collect the acorns of a large tree, which took about a day. The women would then prepare the acorns by shelling them and using a mortar and pestle, grinding the acorns into a fine powder. After being ground, the acorn flour would undergo the lengthy process of leaching the bitter tannins from the acorns which made them unpalatable. After the tannins were leached, the acorn flour was much sweeter and easier to eat and could be used to make soups, mush, and even bread (I myself love acorn bread). Excess unground, shelled acorns could be stored up to 10 years. The preparation of acorns was not just fulfilling a necessity. It was also a time for social connection during which the women could talk amongst themselves and share stories of their lives and even gossip. 

“Acorn use by California Native Americans” by Kathleen McKeehen
https://www.science-art.com/image/?id=1841

The oaks were also vital to the Ohlone as markers for the changing of seasons. They were able to develop a sense of time by watching the changes in the oak trees such as the arrival of buds, flowers, and acorns as well as the loss of leaves in some species. This would tell them when animals, such as bears, would be coming to gather acorns and have their share of the feast. 

In addition to food and a marker of time, the indigenous people of California made use of the oaks in many other ways. The tannins leached from acorns, as well as bark from the trees, could be used as a dye. The pigments were used to color animal skins, make ceremonial face paints, and even for tattooing. Tribes were known to use insect galls, leaves, and fungi growing on acorns for medicinal purposes such as cleaning wounds and stopping infections.

The Amah-Mutsun

https://slconservancy.org/inspire/native-american-culture/

Unfortunately, the arrival of the Spanish did not bode well for the native people nor the oaks of California. The Spanish introduced grazing animals and felled oak forests to make room for their agricultural enterprises. They also saw value in the lumber of oak trees, leading to even more deforestation. Before the native people could do anything to prevent them, the Spanish had dramatically damaged the relationship between the people and the oaks. Tribes like the Ohlone could no longer rely on the acorn as their primary food source and were forced to go to missions which actively discouraged and punished their traditional ways of living. Being forced into the Catholic way of living as a means to survive without their once plentiful native lands severely disrupted the Ohlone people and their connection to the land. Nowadays, many of their descendants view the oak tree and acorns as a reminder of their past and the traditional values that were stripped from their ancestors. 

As time went on, the modernization and further settlement of California has pushed the oak trees into smaller and smaller areas. In 1994, sudden oak death caused by a fungus known as phytophthora ramorum (pronounced fai-toff-thor-ah rah-more-um) furthered the loss of oaks. An estimated one million oak trees have been lost to sudden oak death in California. The destruction of oak woodlands has threatened the lives of native Californian wildlife as well with more than 300 species dependent on them.

All hope is not lost, of course. Recent movements for urban forestry (like Our City Forest) and the restoration and protection of oak trees give hope to restoring the oaks in California that we all owe so much to. Additionally, the restoration of oaks serves to repay for the injustices faced by the native tribes of California and as a reminder of the people with the strongest connection to this land.

Part 3: A General Guide to Native Oaks of California

I want to preface this section with a disclaimer. As I mentioned before, there are some 600 species of oaks worldwide. This section only covers a few of those native to California, of which there are 20 species. The arrival of the Spanish and further settlement of California has introduced many other foreign species of oaks which you may run into around the Bay Area.

*The images are from Michael Lee’s illustrated poster of Native Oaks, the photos are from each species’ wikipedia page, and descriptions are from Pacific Coast Trees by Howard E. McMinn and Evelyn Maino

California Black Oak, Quercus kelloggii

• Size: 30 to 80 feet tall

• Range: Lower and middle mountain slopes and the foothills in the Coast Ranges and the Sierra Nevada to the mountains of southern California

• Acorn: Cup covers ⅓  to ½ of the nut, rounded at the apex, 1 to 1 ½ inches long

• Leaf: Lobed with 1 to 4 bristle-tipped teeth, 4 to 8 inches long, 2 ½ to 4 inches wide

Blue Oak, Quercus Douglasii

• Size: 20 to 60 feet tall

• Range: Lower dry mountain slopes and rocky foothills of the middle and inner Coast Ranges, the Sierra Nevada, and the Sierra Liebre

• Acorn: Cup covers ¼  to ⅓ of the nut, variable in shape, commonly ovoid, ¾ to 1 ¼ inches long

• Leaf: shallow lobes can also be ovoid, bluish green, 1 ½ to 4 inches long, ¾ to 2 inches wide

Canyon Live Oak, Quercus Chrysolepis

• Size: 25 to 50 feet tall

• Range: Mountain canyons and on moist ridges and flats of the Coast Ranges of southern Oregon and California, the lower and middle slopes of western Sierra Nevada and mountains of Southern California

• Acorn: Shallow cup with thick walls, ovoid or oblong, 1 to 1 ¼ inches long

• Leaf: Thick, leathery, elliptic-oblong or ovate, yellow underneath, spiny-toothed ¾ to 3 inches long, ½ to 1 ¾ inches wide

Coast Live Oak, Quercus Agrifolia

• Size: 30 to 75 feet high

• Range: Lower mountain slopes, rocky hills, and on valley flats of the Coast Ranges from Sonoma and Napa counties southward towards the mountains of southern California

• Acorn: Cup covers ⅓ of the nut, slender and pointed, 1 to 1 ½ inches long

• Leaf: Stiff, leathery, oval to almost round, glossy and pale beneath, spine tipped

Engelmann/Mesa Oak, Quercus engelmannii

• Size: 20 to 50 feet high

• Range: Foothills between the coast and the mountains of San Diego County

• Acorn: Cup covers ¼ to ⅓ of the nut, ovoid, ¾ to 1 inch long

• Leaf: Stiff, leathery, oblong to obovate, pale underneath, 1 to 3 inches long, ½ to 1 inch wide

Interior Live Oak, Quercus wislizenii

• Size: 25 to 75 feet tall

• Range: Lower mountain slopes and foothills of the Sierra Nevada from Kern County northward to Mount Shasta, southward in the Great Valley and Inner Coast Range

• Acorn: Cup covers ¼ to ½ of the nut, oblong and pointed, 1 to 1½ inches long

• Leaf: Stiff, leathery, oblong to ovate, glossy and dark above, pale underneath, 1 to 3 inches long, ¾ to 1 ¾ inches wide

Island Oak, Quercus Tomentella

• Size: 20 to 40 feet tall

• Range: Santa Catalina, San Clemente, Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, and Guadalupe islands (not occurring on mainland)

• Acorn: Cup covers ⅓ to ½ of nut, ovoid, rounded, ¾ to 1 ¼ inches long

• Leaf: Thick and leathery, elliptic to oblong, dark green above, pale beneath, prominent veins, swollen teeth

Oregon White Oak, Quercus garryana

• Size: 35 to 60 feet tall

• Range: Coast Ranges of California to Marin County, Sierra Nevada to eastern Shasta County

• Acorn: Shallow cup covers ⅓ of the nut, ovoid, rounded, ¾ to 1 inch long

• Leaf: Wide, deeply 5- to 9-lobed, unequally toothed, dark green and glossy above, pale beneath, 3 to 4 inches long, 2 or 3 inches wide

Valley Oak, Quercus Lobata

• Size: 40 to 125 feet high

• Range: Sacramento, San Joaquin, and adjacent valleys, the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, inner and middle Coast Ranges south to San Fernando Valley

• Acorn: Cup covers ¼  of the nut, long, slender, pointed, 1 ¼ to 2 inches long

• Leaf: Broader towards apex, soft, green above, pale with yellow veins beneath, 7- to 11-lobed, 2 ½ to 4 inches long, 1 ½ to 3 inches wide

Part 4: Additional Information

Any sources I gathered information from are listed in the references at the end but I want to spotlight a few fascinating links and an acorn bread recipe to check out (acorns start to fall September to October)

• The Ohlone and the Oak Woodlands: Cultural Adaptation in the Santa Clara Valley: https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/72850353.pdf

• Past and Present Acorn Use in Native California:
  https://sipnuuk.karuk.us/system/files/atoms/file/AFRIFoodSecurity_UCB_FrankLake_003_007.pdf

• Books: Oaks of California by Bruce M. Pavlik, Secrets of the Oak Woodlands: Plants and Animals Among California’s Oaks by Kate Marianchild

• Recipe for Acorn Bread http://ports.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=25519

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References

“Home.” Rausser College of Natural Resources, UC Berkeley, nature.berkeley.edu/garbelottowp/?p=1749.

“Oak.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 22 June 2020, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oak.

“Ohlone.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 25 June 2020, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ohlone#History.

“Re-Oak California.” California Native Plant Society, 11 June 2019, www.cnps.org/give/priority-initiatives/re-oak-california.

“Saving California's Oak Trees.” Sunset Magazine, 19 Mar. 2014, www.sunset.com/garden/flowers-plants/oak-tree.

“Sudden Oak Death.” Center for Invasive Species Research, 28 Dec. 2019, cisr.ucr.edu/invasive-species/sudden-oak-death#:~:text=It is estimated that the,of central and northern California.

“What Is Sudden Oak Death?” Sudden Oak Death, 2 Sept. 2017, www.suddenoakdeath.org/about-sudden-oak-death/.

The Condor and the Eagle

Image of “The Condor and The Eagle” movie poster.

https://thecondorandtheeagle.com/

A rush of brightly colored, transitioning animations opens up the documentary film, “The Condor and the Eagle.” We see color and sweeping movement and birds morphing into a river out of which a dancing woman emerges and then spirals back into a soaring bird, all depicted in vivid, eye-capturing animations. 

When Amazon Frontlines first emailed me about the special screening of this film, I thought the title sounded familiar. As soon I saw the opening scenes with these unique animations telling the native prophecy of the condor and the eagle, I realized why I was experiencing déjà vu. I had seen the film previously through a film festival. Since I had already committed my evening to watching the special screening, though, I decided to stick with watching the documentary all the way through again, perhaps looking for things I missed the first time or refreshing my memory of the issues it covered.

In “The Condor and the Eagle,” we follow the journey of several indigenous environmental activists. We are taken to various parts of the continent. Alberta, Canada with Melina. Houston, Texas with Bryan. Manchester, Texas with Yudith. Oklahoma with Casey. All four of these leaders are community organizers in their own way, addressing environmental problems that have been ignored by elected officials but which pose a dangerous threat to the health and wellbeing of their indigenous communities. There is fracking, there is drilling, there are pipelines, and there are oil spills, all disproportionately affecting communities of color. Casey powerfully refers to this as a situation in which “the extractive industry is reeking genocidal processes on us.” It is no longer smallpox and the Trail of Tears, Casey explains. Today, the atrocity against indigenous peoples is in the form of environmental genocide.

We get a glimpse into the lives of each of these activists and we begin to see how their stories overlap. Although they live in different parts of the continent, all of them are continuing the fight of their ancestors: the fight to simply survive. We see the evidence of systematic environmental racism against indigenous people in their stories of families who can’t breathe and all-too-common experiences of nosebleeds, asthma, respiratory illnesses because of close proximity and exposure to environmental hazards.  

Juxtaposed against these scenes of the harsh realities of indigenous people’s suffering through images of factories spewing pollution and rivers full of dead fish, we see a man in a suit, a representative from Valero at a city hall meeting in Houston. It is unlikely that this man has to deal with the consequences of crude oil expansion, but his sole-voice seems to be the only one in that decision for expansion as he stands between the neat rows of benches in the hall. We feel a sigh of relief when we see Yudith step up and make an unfaltering public comment that the community must be a part of these decision making processes since they are the ones ultimately paying the price.

The film transitions as we get another treat of bright, spiritual animations with a slow drum beat accompanying the movement. Our favorite animated bird flaps its wings as it lands near the Tigre River in Peru, and we dive into the journeys of Yudith, Bryan, and Melina travelling to South America. The camera pans over lush, green rainforests, and wide rivers of Peru and Ecuador.

Although this scenery can be deceptive and imply complete preservation of land, Yudith, Bryan, and Melina hear stories that contradict the idea that it has gone untouched. Julia Chuje Ruiz, a leader in the Community of Nuevo Remanente in Peru, tells Bryan of the heartbreaking reality that many community members, including 6 of her children, died after drinking water from their local river. No one had told them that oil was spilled into the river. No one had told them not to drink the water or that it had become toxic. 

It’s not just Julia’s community, we learn. Oil companies have targeted areas in and near the Amazon to exploit the land and its people. The government, which benefits off of the profit, uses sneaky tactics to ensure that oil companies can continue to extract resources no matter the damage to these communities. Indigenous people have paid a hefty price for that greed. Oil spills are never cleaned up. Rivers that function as important resources for local communities are contaminated. We see proof of this as Melina dips her hand into water from a river, only for her white glove to come out thickly coated with dark oil. 

Yudith, Bryan, and Melina hear from local activists who have fought hard to protect their communities from the ravaging and powerful fossil fuel industry. But their trip to the heart of the Amazon is about more than just taking notes on strategies to use back home. As the 3 activists connect with the land and people of the Sarayuka Jungle and Yasuni River, Yudith comments on the fact that she is finally able to breathe without fear of what she is inhaling - a liberating experience. As Bryan explains it, it’s about discovering indigenous roots and “finding your way back home.” In the United States, indigenous people were so heinously stripped of their culture, that this generation finds it difficult to understand their identity and their heritage. For indigenous peoples living tucked away in the dense canopies of Peru and Ecuador, they were able to accomplish something that indigenous peoples in America were not given the chance to: they fought hard to preserve their way of life, and for the most part, are able to continue to live traditionally without compromising their culture. Perhaps being able to maintain that sense of identity and heritage is what gives indigenous communities in this region the leg up on mobilizing to protect their lands, resulting in the powerful, united fight we see them leading today.

When Yudith, Bryan, and Melina return to North America, we see activists, led in part by Casey, coming together in front of the White House to march against the Keystone XL Pipeline extension, which stretches from the Tar Sands in Alberta to the Gulf of Mexico. Pipelines tend to be an enemy of environmentalists because of their potential to spill oil, causing deadly contamination of land and water. They also leak greenhouse gases and other hazardous liquids, leading to more death and destruction. The threat of environmental devastation from the Keystone XL Pipeline, spanning such a long distance, would transcend borders and significantly impact communities all across the continent. The scenes of this protest are a fitting way to wrap up the film since the Keystone XL Pipeline is the embodiment of the continuous threat posed on both indigenous communities and our environment, which are inextricably linked. Although the construction of the extension was resumed by the current president, just days ago, the Supreme Court ruled that the construction of the Keystone XL Pipeline would have to come to a halt. While this is a temporary win for environmentalists and indigenous rights activists alike, the same ruling also allows for over 70 pipelines to proceed construction. As we are reminded throughout “The Condor and the Eagle,” the fossil fuel industry is the most powerful industry in the world; their relentless destruction of our planet is not likely to end so easily. But, taking inspiration from the resilient leaders in the film, that does not mean we stop fighting.

So did anything change the second time I saw this documentary? I think so. Oftentimes, I am drawn to documentaries with drama, tears, and the urge to clap loudly at the end. My favorite documentaries are the ones that have me furiously Google searching to find an organization to donate to or running to the Kleenex box after the film is over. The first time I watched “The Condor and the Eagle,” I didn’t feel any of those things. I didn’t know what to make of some scenes. I felt as though the filmmakers weren’t being clear enough in what they were trying to say. But the second time around, I was actually more appreciative of that fact. 

“The Condor and the Eagle,” doesn’t need to follow the same tracks of a blockbuster documentary film. It doesn’t need to have a dramatic soundtrack and evocative editing, showing you exactly how you need to feel. The documentary preserves the reality of the indigenous community’s experiences, because that reality is harsh enough without any Hollywoodization or added spectacle. The injustices against our planet and the indigenous community are too plainly horrific on their own. After I got over the fact that this documentary didn’t succumb to the typical cookie-cutter style of many documentaries, I was able to understand the message of the film so much better and actually appreciate the way things were not played up, but instead laid out honestly. 

Needless to say, I highly recommend this documentary. It’s important for us to understand the interconnectedness of environmental issues and human rights, as well as the long fight for justice that indigenous communities have been leading. As Crystal Lameman, a member of the Beaver Lake Cree Nation accurately puts it in the film, “If you drink water, and you breathe air, this is about you. This is no longer an ‘Indian’ problem. This is about you.”

The movie is available for only $6 to rent here: https://www.filmsforaction.org/watch/the-condor-and-the-eagle/

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https://www.biologicaldiversity.org/campaigns/americas_dangerous_pipelines/

https://earther.gizmodo.com/keystone-xl-is-blocked-for-now-but-the-scotus-ruling-h-1844293640

Briefing: Nature in the City

“Healthy cities exist in a state of flux. Change is necessary and good: people come and go, are born and die; industries are carefully harnessed, but almost never become permanent fixtures. A city that never changes is probably not a city at all.”

— Samuel Stein, Capital City: Gentrification and The Real Estate State

“For the heart, life is simple: it beats as long as it can. Then it stops.”

— Karl Ove Knausgaard, My Struggle, Book One

Briefing: Nature in the City, is an introduction to urban forestry and Our City Forest’s planting philosophy and projects in San Jose, CA. It is a living document, updated in real time, using embedded GIS maps indicating planting progress. It can be a point of reference in a time of social distance. 

The nature of planting projects is informed by the material conditions of our environment. Briefing, then, also begins a dialogue on the spatial character of the city.

San Jose, City Scale | Permeable / Impermeable Surfaces

The city: an inexorably shifting system of systems. From the first cultural horizon in the history of the land’s early stewards, the Tamyen group of the Ohlone people, to Spanish colonialism, to agricultural eminence, to a global technological center, San Jose and the Santa Clara Valley’s arc of development dictates shifting needs for its populous. 

The area’s exponential rise in population and its simultaneously swift development— beginning in earnest as the 50’s turned 60’s—might be gleaned from the page of Kerouac’s Big Sur (1962): “Soon we’re set straight and pointed head on down beautiful fourlane Bayshore Highway to that lovely Santa Clara Valley—But I’m amazed that after only a few years the damn thing no longer has prune fields and vast beet fields like at Lawrence when I was a breakman on the Southern Pacific and even after, it’s one long row of houses right down the line 50 miles to San Jose like a great monstrous Los Angeles beginning to grow south of Frisco.”

Cities are simultaneously the present future (pandemic conditions notwithstanding): of continued inhabitance, of economic opportunity, of the environmental zeitgeist. As our cities go, so too, will our planet. They are alive, and as such, changing. And yet? Development is not deterministic: we can improve the urban condition. Our City Forest works to do so—through canopy, conservation, and stewardship. 

This is a primer: Click here to read Briefing: Nature in the City. 

San Martin Community Planting, 2020.

Land as Community as Section