A stand of cane in the woods

 Walking in the woods, we came across a stand of river cane, Arundinaria gigantean.

The species grows as far west as Texas, which is where I got to know it.

What we saw just south of Stone Mountain was a stand of cane, rather than a canebrake. I’ve seen canebrakes so dense that a human could not get through. The old timers would tell of old, patient horses that could “nose” their way through a brake. The only way a human would get through was to stay in the saddle and trust the horse.

Those brakes are in open areas where the cane can get plenty of sunlight.

The stand we ran into was along a small creek in the forest. The canopy in this area was spotty. Enough light got through to the forest floor to allow the cane to grow. But it wasn’t hard to get through.

The question is: What happens next?

River cane can spread by rhizomes. Could it take over the flood plain, pushing the trees back from the creek? Or could the trees — a mix of oaks, gums, hickories and pines with some beech thrown in — shade out and overrun the cane?

It’s an interesting balance, and ancient humans played a role. They used cane for many things, particularly baskets. The Cherokee people of the Piedmont used cane in historical times.

How could humans — ancient or modern — tilt the balance in favor of cane?

Fire.

Fire creates open space, and grasses, including Arundinaria gigantean, grow faster. Some fire, of course, is natural. Lightning does strike.

But many dense brakes were aided by humans who were observant enough to sense the tension between grasses and trees and to see what happened after lighting struck, setting the woods on fire, opening the canopy, allowing sunlight in.