Driving into Nantou, Taiwan’s only landlocked county, we arrive at Qigu in Caotun Township’s Pingding Village, at an elevation of 342 meters. We’ve come to visit a big old camphor tree here. Under its enormous canopy, the distinctive scent of camphor permeates the air. The tree even has its own lightning rod. People often come here in groups to enjoy the tranquil setting and the beautiful tree.

According to a survey by the Nantou County Government, the Qigu tree is more than 600 years old. It has a diameter at breast height of 2.5 meters, a circumference of eight meters, and a height of 30 meters, and its crown spans across an area of 800 square meters. Zeng Wanshui, the former village chief of Pingding, tells us that during the Japanese era the logging industry flourished here. A group of lumberjacks had cleared brush around the tree but when one of them began to try to chop it down he was afflicted with a debilitating stomach ache before he could do so. Then when his colleagues took their turns they were likewise stymied. The locals came to believe that the old tree held a spirit, and they set up tables under it for offerings. Consequently, the tree was spared, and today tour buses arrive with groups of admirers.

In front of the Longde Temple in Caotun’s Bifeng Village there grows a venerable banyan tree, said to be 230 years old. During the August 7 floods of 1959, many villagers climbed into it to escape the rising water. That’s how it came to be called the “Lifesaver Tree.” Sitting on a bench beneath it, Lin Hongben, now aged 80, recalls how, from his vantage point atop an altar table in the temple, he saw people frantically pull themselves up into the safety of the tree’s branches: “It was like a crowded train.” Some 60–70 people remained perched in it until after nightfall, when the waters receded and they could climb down. “Afterwards, most wouldn’t have found the same strength to climb it even if they had wanted to.”

Zhan Dengfa, who is in charge of the temple’s historical records, says that the old banyan tree is the same age as the temple itself. Since it has saved people, villagers believe that the tree likewise has a “godly aura.” Three years after the flood, villagers built a small shrine under the tree where they pray and present offerings. Years later the county government wanted to widen the adjacent road, but the villagers were against moving the tree, noting that it “watched over us as we grew up.” They launched petitions, and when several workers mysteriously fell from their excavators one after another, the government decided to leave the tree and the shrine alone, putting a bend in the road instead. “It was best for the people and for the tree.”

People, gods, and trees

Belief in tree spirits and veneration of old trees have been common around the world, throughout the ages. Lo Hua-chuan, a former technical specialist at the Endemic Species Research Institute of the Council of Agriculture, says that the Kiwai people of Papua New Guinea believe that spirits live in all trees. Before chopping one down, they ask the spirit to move to another tree. In Taiwan you can often find Earth God shrines beside old trees, and there are also the customs of venerating old trees, and of children being offered to trees as godsons and god­daughters.

Yang Yu-jun, a professor of Chinese Literature at National Chung Cheng University, says that it is historically documented that in the pre-Qin era (before 220 BCE) people would make offerings to trees or rocks as representations of the earth, and those ceremonies gradually evolved into worship of the Earth God. Thus belief in tree spirits is an extension of Earth God worship, and it is common to find small Earth God shrines next to large trees in Taiwan. Further evidence of tree worship is found in the red sashes tied around trunks or in the incense tables placed under trees.

As symbols of longevity, old trees have long been appointed as godparents to young children, especially those who are sickly, fretful or unruly, in the hope that the tree will protect them from harm.
 

Accompanying the common folk

Old trees accompany regular people through their lives in myriad ways. Seniors gather to chat under them and peddlers of agar jelly treats push carts into their shade. Under the old banyan trees in front of Taipei’s Cisheng Temple, dozens of food vendors ply their trade. Sitting on plastic stools around folding tables, customers consume traditional local snacks.

In many locales, trees also serve as important cultural and tourism resources. Take the Takeshi Kaneshiro Tree, a bishopwood tree (Bischofia javanica) in Taitung’s Chi­shang Township. It was made famous by a commercial featuring the actor that was filmed there. The old banyan tree on the campus of National Cheng Kung University, meanwhile, often serves as backdrop for wedding photos.

The rhythm of the four seasons as reflected in trees has also provided inspiration to artists. Courtyard with Banana Trees, an oil painting by the Taiwanese painter Liao Chi-chun, was selected for the Japanese Imperial Art Exhibition (Teiten) in 1928. In the foreground there is an eye-catching banana tree whose leaves cast dappled shade across the clay courtyard, providing cool respite from the harsh sun of a southern summer’s day.

Due to their size and beauty, trees often become landmarks that give rise to place names. Take Citong Township in Yunlin County. It is named for the tiger’s claw trees (Erythrina variegata) that were growing there in abundance when Han Chinese settlers began to clear the land for farming. The old name for Chiayi County’s Puzi City was Puzaijiao (“under the hackberries”) because of the lush groves of Chinese hackberry (Celtis sinensis) that once grew there. Shuwang (“tree king”) Village in Tai­chung’s Dali District is named for a bishopwood located just outside its present boundary that is more than 800 years old.

Tree wisdom

Liu Tung-chi, an associate professor of horticulture at National Chung Hsing University who is certified as an arborist in Japan, says that trees are among the world’s longest-living organisms.

Old trees thus faithfully record the changes in the natural environment, bearing witness to the march of human civilization and serving as precious cultural resources. In 1990 the Taiwan Provincial Department of Agriculture and Forestry (now the Agriculture and Food Agency) launched the “Taiwan Provincial Old Tree and Thoroughfare Tree Preservation Plan.” Under the plan, trees that were at least a century old or that had a circumference over 4.7 meters, whether found in settlements or in natural areas of the lowlands or foothills, could be recognized as representative of their areas and officially designated as “old trees.” Based on local characteristics, moreover, counties and municipalities could create broader criteria for these designations.

Currently, there are some 7,000–8,000 protected trees throughout Taiwan. The leading species are banyan, bishopwood, camphor, and Formosan sweetgum (Li­quid­ambar formosana).
 

Treatment for old trees

Old trees are the elders of the natural world and generate much affection among people—a sentiment demonstrated by the many working to save them.

Taiwan’s oldest lowland camphor tree can be found at Yuemei in Taichung’s Houli District. Eighteen meters tall, it has branches that resemble coiled dragons, and it casts a forest-like shade. Estimated to be over 1,000 years old, the holy tree has countless godchildren. Under the tree are shrines dedicated to both the tree itself and the Earth God. When former ROC president Lee Teng-hui was serving as provincial governor he designated it the “Zemin Camphor,” (zemin meaning “benefiting the people”). Steady streams of visitors have since come to admire the tree.

Ten years ago a group of the tree’s “godchildren” approached Liu Tung-chi and the Taiwan Old Tree Rescue Association to help save the tree, which was showing signs of poor health. Liu discovered that because the nearby roadbed had been elevated, much of the area around the tree had been paved over with cement, and the roots of the old camphor and even its trunk had been covered with a 1.5-meter layer of soil. The root system was constricted and couldn’t breathe. The poor aeration and drainage were causing severe root rot.

To allow the roots to breathe, Liu wanted to follow the textbook method of removing the cement pavement. He threw divination blocks, asking the spirit of the camphor tree for guidance. Unexpectedly, he failed to get a positive answer seven times in a row. “I asked if I was being naive and got confirmation,” he recalls with a laugh.

It turned out that if the pavement was removed and the roots were exposed to sunlight, they would quickly die if not protected. To save the tree, Liu went to Japan to ask his teacher Daisai Hori for advice, and he tried many approaches, but all to no avail. Then one day he saw online a video about how waterjet cutting could cut through cement. It spurred an epiphany that led him to develop a new treatment method. He used a waterjet to cut holes into the soil, into which he poured nutrient-­rich fertilizer. He also removed some of the previously installed paving and garden ornaments. After six months or so, the tree had recovered.

Offerings of fertilizer

“The Mid-Autumn Festival is the Tree God’s birth­day, so it’s a good time to work to keep the tree healthy.” After successfully treating the old camphor tree, every Mid-Autumn Festival Liu and the Taiwan Old Tree Rescue Association hold an activity that they have named “Fertilizer Thanksgiving.” Local parents and children fill waterjet holes with compost, expressing gratitude to the tree for protecting the neighborhood.

Taichung is also home to a famous grove of five old trees: the Wufulinmen Trees, in Shigang District. The grove features a giant, spreading camphor tree, which is about 400 years old, as well as a banyan, an acacia, a phoebe, and a hackberry. Former ROC president ­Chiang Ching-kuo provided the name Wufulinmen, which means “the five blessings approach our door.” The tourists who came to appreciate the trees also brought business to nearby shops.

But afterwards, the surrounding area developed and the road was paved with concrete, impeding drainage of the soil and so leading to root rot and hypoxia. The trees’ overall health fell into steep decline. Liu employed his waterjet treatment to loosen the compacted soil and removed unneeded cement and landscaping features, allowing the roots to breathe and reviving the trees. In November 2022 the Old Tree Rescue Association sponsored a road running race to help pay for the fertilizer that the locale provides as an expression of gratitude for the trees.
 

A relay race

“Preserving old trees is like a relay race, with the baton passing from hand to hand. Dropping it would mean losing the race.” Liu and the association have already signed old tree sustainability agreements with the locales that are home to the Wufulinmen Grove and the Zemin Camphor, and they have provided free tree care for more than 800 trees throughout Taiwan.

In the preface to When Old Trees Talk by Wang Haoyi, the poet Xiang Yang writes, “Every old tree holds a thread of history.” He thus describes how old trees provide a sense of place, history and inherited culture.

During my childhood, the longan tree in our garden was laden with fruit at the Mid-Autumn Festival, and Grandma used a bamboo pole to pull its branches down and pick the fruit, which were then presented as an offering to the moon. And on the first and 15th of every lunar month, she would bring a bamboo basket full of delicacies to the garden’s banyan tree as an offering. Those are my memories of trees. Why not explore your own memories of trees, or take a trip to experience some old trees and delve into their rich histories and their place in local legends?

For more pictures, please click 《A Shady Tale to Tell: For the Love of Old Trees》