It now remains to determine how the branch was placed in the tree. It must have been upright or very nearly so, for the main axis is essentially straight and the branchlets are about equally developed on all sides; moreover, there is no indication in the bark that one exposure was the "weather side." The big twig i apparently found a light and unoccupied space into which to develop, but its extension is not greatly out of proportion. I suppose, however, that my branch was not topmost in the tree; there is no indication in very long growth or strong upward tendency of the branchlets to mark the branch as a "leader."
Years ago I became fascinated with the study of knots and knot-holes in the timber of wood-piles. They are excellent records of the events in the life of trees. In print I have tried to show what they mean. I also worked out the life-histories of twigs and published them in nature-study leaflets and elsewhere. Hundreds of children were interested in the twigs and buds, finding them unusual, every one of them a different story, and yet not difficult to read. These lessons gave meaning to trees and seasons. Such observations have always meant much to me, even when made in the most casual way in the midst of constraining activities. And now in this later day I come back to a bare twig with all the joy of youth. The records of the years are in these piles of brush.
VI
THE PRUNING OF THE APPLE-TREE
We have found that not all the buds grow. We also know that some of the spurs and shoots perish, not alone from accident but from defeat in the struggle to live. The chances of success are relatively few. The pruning process begins early in the life of the tree, and it continues ceaselessly until the end.
To the apple-tree in the wild, strict pruning is the assurance of success. No tree can reach maturity unless more parts perish than are able to live. The young forest tree has branchlets and leaves along its side and at the top. All these perish as the trunk rises, often leaving marks on the bark, curls in the wood, and knot-holes large and small. Thousands of perished buds and branches are the price of a straight bole and great clear sheets of boards. Yet these perished parts bore their burden in their day and time, and contributed to the ultimate success: there could have been no tree without them.
Any tree-top discloses the pruning in action if one looks intently. Part of it is recorded in the buds that never put forth a leaf; more of it in little shoots left behind; and there are large and small limbs, dead and dying, yellowing apparently before their time, hanging on till the last hold is broken. Were it not for the benevolent processes of decay, the ground would be strewn with the fallen parts accumulating through the years.
In nature, the great result is to yield abundant quantity of seeds, that the species may propagate itself after its kind. Man may desire fruits relatively few, but large of size and excellent of quality, without spot or blemish; this means greater opportunity and care to the single fruit. Pruning is essential, to converge the energy of the plant into fewer branches, to give the fruits space and light, to increase the efficiency of measures for the control of diseases and insects. Part of the pruning consists in removing certain branches, and part of it in eliminating the fruits themselves by the careful process of thinning.