Documenting Louisiana’s Surviving Old-growth Bald Cypress Trees
You wouldn’t know it unless a dendrochronologist told you, or maybe you never thought to look, or perhaps you’ve looked but never realized: The ancients still live among us.
Hidden away in secluded swamps with little but mosquitoes and reptiles for company, or in silent groves happened upon infrequently by intrepid kayakers, or in the middle of New Orleans, surrounded by old homes whose foundations were cut from their ancestors, Louisiana is home to thousands of surviving old-growth bald cypress trees.
“The cypress swamps have an uncanny majesty and an unutterable melancholy. A sense of desolation weighs upon the mind: it is the desolation of vast time.”- Henry Castellanos, “New Orleans As It Was,” 1895
Native to the Southeastern United States, the bald cypress — the state tree of Louisiana — is a unique species. Unusual among conifers, they shed their feathery needles each autumn and have the ability to sprout new trees from their stumps. Another emblematic feature is their massive trunks, which fan out at the base, providing them the stability needed to withstand hurricanes and frequent flooding. Perhaps most curious are their “knees” — gnarly wooden stalagmites that emerge from the ground around them. They are most appreciated, however, for their beauty: Draped in Spanish moss set to sway by a humid breeze, they create an atmosphere that blurs the line between dream and reality.
Kayaker exploring the cypress forests of Lake Dauterive.
Unfortunately, their rich heartwood also just happens to be nature’s perfect timber. Remarkably resistant to rot and insects, bald cypress wood has been coveted since pre-colonial times for everything from dugout canoes to grand plantation homes. The wood’s natural preservative oils allow structures built from it to stand for centuries. The superiority of this wood explains why Louisiana, which historically contained the most extensive and impressive bald cypress forests in the world, is so bereft of old growth bald cypresses today: They’ve been cut down and transformed into human structures.
“Before the lumberman invaded the swamps of Louisiana, the cypress stood in serried ranks so dense that the sun could scarcely penetrate, trees 2,000 years old still bearing witness to the passage of time,” wrote James Monette in 1846.
Aerial view of the cypress forests of Henderson Swamp.
“Before the era of excessive timber-cutting commenced, the cypress forests of southern Louisiana were of such extent as to be almost boundless, the trees of such size as to be almost beyond belief. The water-covered area on which they grew was measured not by acres but by square miles,” wrote George B. Sudworth in 1908.
What early explorers once described as “boundless” and “beyond belief” has today been reduced to scattered remnants of a lost world. Our ancestors are to blame. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, industrial logging descended upon Louisiana’s primeval bald cypress forests with ruthless efficiency. The massacre was so complete that by 1925 virtually all of Louisiana’s virgin bald cypress — once measured not in acres but in square miles — had vanished.
Sister Bald Cypresses in Lake Fausse Pointe.
Today, scattered pockets of old-growth bald cypresses remain as sacred relics in places such as the Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge, Lake Dauterive and Lake Verret. Most of Louisiana’s current bald cypresses are second-growth, mere adolescents compared to their ancient forebears, and the ancients themselves seem few and far between. However, thanks to one man and a small team of volunteers who have been systematically locating and documenting what remains of Louisiana’s old-growth bald cypresses, visiting these venerable giants is no longer an unthinkable task.
Harvey Stern, citizen scientist, naturalist and lover of Louisiana’s wetlands, has since 2003 been systematically locating, aging and cataloging old-growth bald cypresses throughout the state. His discoveries are chronicled extensively on his blog “the Louisiana Purchase Cypress Legacy” (lapurchasecypresslegacy.blogspot.com) whose stated purpose is to “inventory, landmark and promote the stewardship of cypress trees in Louisiana” that are over 221 years old as of 2024, “i.e. alive at the time of the Louisiana Purchase in 1803.” He has documented bald cypress trees 25-plus feet in circumference and 1000-plus years in age in all regions of the state.
Forcing a path through invasive giant salvinia in King George Bayou.
The idea for this grand catalogue grew out of Harvey’s extensive canoeing trips in various parts of South Louisiana, where he began visiting some of the old trees he had heard about, then began mapping some on his own.
“It just kind of built from there,” Harvey says. “Then, in 2003, I said, Let’s try to make a campaign out of this and let folks know where all the big boys are, let them know they’re still out there!”
He began documenting the locations of these trees, measuring them and making borings to get a good approximation of their age. It eventually occurred to him that if he linked the age of these trees to the age of Louisiana itself, founded in 1803, it would provide something more tangible for Louisianans — something they could be proud of.
Harvey Stern and Grace Hill, searching for old growth in King George Bayou.
What drew Harvey to the bald cypress in particular? First, the aquatic nature of his adventuring (you tend to find old bald cypresses in swamps). Second, in contrast to the state’s famous live oaks, Harvey felt the venerable bald cypress simply wasn’t receiving the attention it deserved.
“There’s this sense of majesty and individuality in their appearance,” Harvey says. “They each have their own individual character. It’s not just the girth, but the cragginess, the fact that a tree that’s 14-plus feet in circumference has been through a lot, that it’s survived, in some cases, many centuries. They’re living things every bit as grizzled and tortured as they look, but they’re still putting out fresh shoots every season, and no two look alike.”
To date Harvey has documented more than 90 bald cypress trees on his registry, complete with approximate age, circumference and GPS coordinates. All of these trees are more than 230 years old (alive in 1803) and marked with unique plaques stating their approximate age. Some he found on his own, some were shown by friends, but a majority came from collaborations with landowners or nature enthusiasts who found his registry online and contacted him with photographs of old trees they knew of. After assessing the photographs, Harvey would venture out to age and map them.
Harvey Stern sizing up on old bald cypresses in King George Bayou — a possible candidate for his Legacy Cypress registry.
Harvey says meeting the folks who’ve reached out to him has brought him as much joy as meeting the trees themselves.
“I love hearing their stories,” Harvey says. “They have such a reverence and affinity for these trees. For some, they are like members of the family. I think of one Cajun couple in Pointe Coupée Parish who told me their cypress had been in the family for generations. The man who reached out to me talked about him and his father jumping off the branches of this tree into an oxbow of the Mississippi, and his grandfather jumping off the same branches into the same oxbow, and his great-grandfather before that. The cultural and historic value of these trees is immeasurable for these people.”
Leads on such trees have trickled in regularly over the years. The trees Harvey has on his registry are located on both public and private property, but just because the tree is on private property doesn’t mean you can’t visit it — the landowners are often excited to show you the giants living nearby. One example is the “Daigle Cypress,” approximately 700+ years old and number 90 on the registry. I located the tree using the registry and contacted Kevin Daigle, who lives on the adjacent property and who originally led Harvey to the tree. Daigle was more than happy to show me the tree. In fact, he expressed disappointment more people haven’t contacted him to come see it.
Harvey Stern, founder of the Louisiana Purchase Cypress Legacy registry, stands amidst the tall cypresses he began to catalogue, measure and map what he began over two decades ago.
Like so many others, Daigle’s connection to Harvey started when he began to wonder just how old this tree was.
“I grew up in the woods and swamps of Louisiana and know what an abnormally big cypress looks like,” Daigle says, craning his head back to follow the trunk up to the canopy high above. “And this one is just so thick all the way up to the top. Harvey found out it’s over 700 years old, which would have made it a seedling more than a hundred years before Columbus came to America, to give some perspective. I have no idea how they missed this one when they logged the area.”
There are historic anecdotes of logging crews refusing to chop down certain trees due to their age and venerable presence. Another reason could be that like many old cypresses, the tree is hollow at the base and was perhaps spared for that reason. Daigle invited me to have a closer look at the hollowness within, directing me to peek inside the football-sized hole in the trunk about five feet up. A frigid, humid air exhumed from inside as I wedged my face in with a flashlight, where I discovered a little flooded, dripping grotto full of little cypress knees. Daigle said they tell children elves live in there.
A newly-found old bald cypress tree in King George Bayou— a possible candidate for the registry.
Harvey has been documenting old cypress trees like this not only in South Louisiana, but in all parts of the state, including regions not usually thought of as cypress country.
“Some of the most beautiful and oldest cypresses are up in the Arkansas state line area, up in northern Louisiana,” Harvey says. “Most are on designated scenic streams in areas that are still pretty undeveloped.”
Some trees are more accessible than others, including a few one can nearly drive up to and reach after a brief stroll. Others require a canoe and a reliable GPS. Still others require a motorboat, supplies and the fortitude to explore the furthest reaches of the swamp.
The meandering King George Bayou
At various times during the milder seasons, I’ve gone out on adventures in an attempt to pay homage to some of the older trees in Harvey’s registry. As always when dealing with nature, conditions were rarely ideal. Flooded roads, unpredicted currents, trails so overgrown they’re impassable or winds so strong they blow your kayak to the wrong shore and hold you there for hours. But those I have been able to reach have rewarded me for my efforts.
I had the pleasure of accompanying Harvey on a canoe trip in February to see an 1100-year-old giant (plaque #46) on King George Bayou, only an hour-and-a-half drive from New Orleans. Unfortunately the road to the bayou’s boat launch was flooded after heavy rains and we had to portage the canoe and our gear for over a half mile, only to find the path through the bayou to the tree choked by invasive giant salvinia, and thus unreachable. Not wanting to waste the effort it took to get there, we paddled off in a new direction and had soon found another giant cypress. We hopped out of the canoe and sludged through the muck to measure it and found it was more than 15 feet in circumference and almost certainly alive in 1803, thus a good candidate for Harvey’s registry.
Harvey Stern measuring the circumference of a cypress.
“That just goes to show how many of these trees are still out there when you really start to look,” Harvey noted.
So many in fact that it is unlikely Harvey will return to that particular tree to make a boring. Harvey is 72 years old and simply doesn’t have the time to verify and attach a plaque to every old tree that was alive at the time of statehood. Instead, he’s after the big fish. One of his primary goals is to find the oldest, largest cypress in each of Louisiana’s 64 parishes, a goal he reckons is about two-thirds complete. He is especially interested in hunting down trees in parishes where he has yet to document what he thinks could be the oldest living cypress of the parish.
“The idea,” Harvey says, “is to show folks it’s not just places like the Pearl River that all the old cypresses are, but that we have beautiful old cypresses, sometimes whole groves of them, throughout the entire state. It’s certainly nowhere near what it was back in 1803, but there is still a significant number, I’d say easily into the thousands of trees.”
Closeup of Harvey Stern’s steady hand taking meticulous measure.
Readers might ask what they can do to advocate for these old cypress trees? First, educate yourself and others about the importance of cypress forests. Learn to identify old-growth cypress trees by their distinctive characteristics, like large buttressed trunks and hollow centers, and if you know of an ancient-looking cypress near you that is not on the registry, contact Harvey!
You could also avoid purchasing cypress lumber or wood products unless they’re certified as sustainably harvested or reclaimed, and avoid buying cypress mulch entirely, as it often comes from old-growth forests. If you own wetland property with cypress trees, consider placing it under a conservation easement with a local land trust to ensure permanent protection.
If you’d like to get out and visit some of these trees, the best place to begin is the registry. Look at the map and see what’s near your part of the state. Some of the trees are very accessible on foot, such as the National Champion bald cypress at Cat Island (best from July to November, when it’s not flooded), the largest bald cypress in the country; the 700+year-old “Monarch” cypress at Jean Lafitte National Historical Park’s Bayou Coquille Trail; or the 800-1300-year-old tree (plaque #15) visible from the Cypress Walk overlook in the Cypress Reserve subdivision in Tangipahoa Parish. If you’re experienced with human-powered vessels like canoes or kayaks, consider mining Harvey’s registry for trees you’d like to make a pilgrimage to, record their GPS coordinates and plan a grand adventure!
“Before the lumberman invaded the swamps of Louisiana, the cypress stood in serried ranks so dense that the sun could scarcely penetrate, trees two thousand years old still bearing witness to the passage of time,” -— James Monette in 1846
