A holiday story for people who think money grows on trees

Once Upon a Christmas Tree Farm Tom B a u m a n n this time in 1982 that I received a phone call from my friend Paul, who lives in Minneapolis. He had just arrived home after buying a Christmas tree and was suffering from a severe case of sticker shock. "You wouldn't believe what I just paid for a stupid Christmas tree!" he nearly yelled into the phone. "People should go to jail for charging that much for dead vegetation." After we talked several minutes, he said, "You should start a Christmas tree farm. It looks like an easy way to make a lot of money." Now this was not a new thought. For several years I had been considering just that. I had some open land north of the Twin Cities that was ideal

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T WAS ABOUT

The author, a professional forester, thought he knew how to turn green trees into greenbacks. 18

THE MINNESOTA VOLUNTEER

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Christmas Trees

"I heard a muffled voice echoing out of the culvertlike structure of the planting machine." for growing Christmas trees. I was a forester, so I knew a thing or two about planting and caring for trees, and simple arithmetic projected a tidy profit in seven to eight short years.

few ventures were as noble, or as profitable, as growing Christmas trees. She was skeptical but figured I knew what I was talking about (remember, we were newlyweds). She also agreed to help me plant.

His phone call was the last little nudge I needed to make the leap into raising Christmas trees. In Minnesota, the Christmas tree business is big business. About 400 Christmas tree growers in the state bring nearly 800,000 trees to market each year. With annual sales of nearly $25 million, Minnesota ranks eighth in an industry that generates $1 billion in sales nationwide.

Fickle Buyers. That winter I carefully decided which trees to order, hoping to anticipate the often fickle tastes of Christmas tree buyers eight to 12 years in advance. I finally decided on a combination of 500 white pine, 500 Scotch pine, 300 white spruce, and 200 Colorado blue spruce.

Compared to these lofty figures, my goals were modest. I would plant 7 acres of abandoned farmland, at a rate of 1 acre per year. This would eventually produce about 600 trees per year on a continuing basis. My first task was to convince Kathy, my wife of one month, that Tom Baumann is marketing coordinator with the DNR Bureau of Information and Education, St. Paul. 20

As the snow retreated that spring of 1983,1 made ready for the first planting. Borrowing a rusty old farm disc, I beat down the thin, grassy cover that clung to the sandy soil until the 1-acre field was smooth and bare—ideal for planting. I made arrangements to rent a tree-planting machine from the local soil and water conservation office. We would be the first to use the newly acquired machine, I was told cheerfully. The appointed day of tree planting, a Sunday, finally arrived. It was T H E MINNESOTA VOLUNTEER

sunny and cool. The tree seedlings waited patiently as I hitched up the planting machine, which vaguely resembled the booster section of an Apollo rocket, to my trusty farm tractor. With the look of an apprehensive astronaut, Kathy climbed into the planting machine "capsule" and buckled herself in. All systems were go.

As we started down the first row, everything was proceeding nicely. Sitting high in the tractor seat and watching the trees spring up in a neat line behind the planting machine, I had a feeling of accomplishment, and a vision of dollar signs. I am a Christmas tree grower, I thought to myself. As we reached the end of the field, I turned the tractor in a tight loop as I tried to maintain the 6foot spacing between rows recommended for Christmas tree plantings. As I did so, I heard a muffled voice echoing from the culvertlike structure of the planting machine. Glancing over my shoulder, I was startled to see the machine had rolled on its side. It now looked a lot less like a moon rocket and a lot more like a large, yellow hippopotamus wallowing in the mud. Leaping off the tractor, I ran back to find my wife, who was unhurt but not entirely pleased. I was able to roll the machine back on its planting wheels. Kathy gamely continued to plant, even though the machine would roll over eight more times before we

The tree grower finds relaxation and spiritual renewal in the quiet contemplation of nature. NOVEMBER-DECEMBER

1990

finished

The next year, on a new field 21

Christmas Trees

"I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of creatures whose goal was to demonstrate that growing trees is not easy." and with a new assortment of tree species, we set out again. Oh, we had a different planting machine too. And while the cold April rain that fell while we planted proved beneficial to the tree seedlings, it did little to nurture the spirit of my treeplanting assistant. The following spring I planted the trees by hand, by myself. By then, I was fully aware that growing Christmas trees was a lot more than sticking 12- to 16-inch trees in the ground and waiting for them to get 7 to 8 feet tall. But I was not fully prepared for the relentless onslaught of creatures whose goal, it seemed, was to demonstrate that growing Christmas trees is not easy. First there were the weeds and grasses that sprung up seconds after the trees were in the ground, absolutely determined to choke the life out of young trees. Then there were pocket gophers, miniature miners that consider tree roots the Godiva chocolate of the small mammal diet. Finally, there was a nearly endless array of bark beetles, spider mites, shoot moths, needle 22

feeders, and spittlebugs that view young trees as the area's premier bed-and-breakfast operation. Then, of course, there was drought. Lost Years. For Christmas tree growers across the state, the springs of 1987-89 will be recalled as the lost years. Near-record dry conditions turned tree-planting projects into exercises in futility. In my case, I planted the same field three years in a row, and have only spotty survival by a stalwart few. Now some people may start to get the idea that Christmas tree growing can be a hard, time-consuming enterprise, and not nearly as profitable as it might appear. But then, I haven't even mentioned shearing. Under normal conditions most trees, especially the pines, grow too fast, getting as sparse and spindly as Charlie Brown's woeful Christmas tree. To achieve the full, conical shape most people want requires annual shaping with a pruning shears or knife. Here again Nature plays a nasty T H E MINNESOTA VOLUNTEER

some of those trees planted the first spring are now approaching 7 feet. But a few minor details remain. I must still decide how to sell them—wholesale, retail lot, or cut-yourown. And some trees, such as Norway and Scotch pine, get pale green or yellowish in the fall and must be sprayed with a green dye to make them more attractive. (And you thought green was their natural color.) But if the Class of '83 can avoid the gophers and the weeds and the bugs and the tree thieves (not all people pay for their trees) for one more y investment will start to pay dividends. I will also begin to restore some credibility with my wife (we are no longer newlyweds). And after that first harvest is complete, I will certainly look forward to calling my friend Paul to tell him that whatever he paid for his Christmas tree, it was not nearly enough. •

The day the grower has been waiting for: His Christmas trees are finally too big to be eaten by rabbits.

trick on Christmas tree growers. Not only is this very hard work, but to also get the best results it's necessary to shear in late June and early July, a time that coincides unfailingly with the peak of the mosquito, wood tick, and deerfly seasons. Payday is coming, however, as NOVEMBER-DECEMBER

1990

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