Swinging from the trees: Another tale from the land

In my fists I clenched a thick woody vine. After a brief running start, I leaped off the ground and swung through the air.

For a moment I felt like Tarzan.

I was only a few inches off the ground, and instead of traversing the dense jungle, was trying to yank a strand of Virginia creeper from a tree, but you get the idea. Tarzan didn’t swing from vines in the original 1912 novel. The ape man, created by English novelist Edgar R. Burroughs, swung from the limbs of trees, mimicking the behavior of the animals that reared him.

The vines were added in later movie and cartoon adaptations. Leave it to Hollywood to ruin a good book.

The King of the Jungle could make himself at home in the woods of North America, at least anywhere Virginia creeper is prevalent. The hardy vines cover the ground and snake their way up the tallest of trees. If left unchecked it can choke out other plants and quickly cover walls and buildings. Unlike kudzu, the rapidly growing Japanese vine brought to the United States as a garden plant and cure for soil erosion, Virginia creeper belongs here. And, unlike its native cousin poison ivy, though they look suspiciously similar in their infant stages, Virginia creeper is not harmful to humans.

It can, however, kill trees if left unchecked. The vines can grow thick, thick enough to support the weight of a full-grown man (if you want to call me that), and the foliage dense enough to beat its host for vital sunlight. If allowed to grow on houses, its tendrils will invade every nook and cranny, while trapping rot and mold facilitating moisture against walls and siding.

Virginia creeper remains prized as a ground cover by many horticulturalists, particularly because of the vibrant shade of red the leaves take on in the fall. Famed plant enthusiast Frederick Law Olmsted, who is considered the father of landscape architecture, prized Virginia creeper, especially when designing large, wooded estates. Prone to using native species, though he helped with the spread of the now-dreaded Chinaberry tree, Olmsted incorporated Virginia creeper on his own Maryland property.  

I hate it, hence why I was swinging around the woods like Tarzan, trying to tear it from a tree. Yard work has been low on the priority list over the past few months, years for some portions of the yard, and a pine tree near the house had been overrun with the creeper. It had been creeped out, if you will.

The eradication method taught to me by a horticulturalist, the same horticulturist that most likely instilled my hatred of this plant, prescribes cutting at least a four-inch gap into the vine at the base of the tree, spraying the exposed end with an herbicide and, after the vine begins to wilt, yank it from the tree. As it dies, you see, it’s supposed to lose its grip. 

Not this one. I have yanked, and pulled, and swayed in the air like a madman, and the vine is still there.

Where’s Tarzan when you need him?