I’ve been looking at the trees I grew up around differently lately.
As a native Georgian, I didn’t fully appreciate the biodiversity of my hometown. It wasn’t until a friend started dating an arborist who moved to Atlanta all the way from the UK that I even knew our capital (and largest metro) was dubbed the “City in a Forest” due to its high tree canopy coverage, across almost 50% of the city. If the average state has about 260 different tree species, Georgia’s inventory is well above most with 390.
In my defense, I was raised in a suburb built in the McMansion era: acres and acres of land stripped down to build housing developments for the middle-class and above. And the trees that were planted in my neighborhood were still young when I left for college back in 2012.
Since then, I’ve lived in the agriculturally diverse state of California, the urban sprawl of New York, and the lush suburbs of Pennsylvania, with plenty of roadtrips to the surrounding regions. Only on visits home did I realize how uniquely beautiful the vegetation was here and I began to associate certain leaf shapes and green hues with plants of the south, my Indian heritage making me double down on my preferences. I longed for trees with large leaves that flourished in humidity, but found it near impossible to keep them alive in the moderate microclimate of San Francisco or the cold winters of the northeast.
In Pennsylvania, we lived on two acres of land out where the grass and the trees grew wildly. There was little to no human intervention and we reaped the benefits, witnessing nature taking its course with wildlife diversity and healthy grass that no amount of dog pee could apparently yellow.
When we moved back to Georgia to be closer to my family, we chose a more… manicured area from whence we came.
Wanting to recreate our old acreage, I wanted to build a space reflective of Georgia’s own natural beauty. I began to research permaculture — a natural approach to landscape design that prioritizes sustainability to create self-sufficient plant systems and promote ecological balance. And it was here that I began to learn about the role of native species.
It was my naive understanding that if it grows here, it belongs here. No questions asked. But there are varying degrees of belief out there about whether exotic species — trees, shrubs, flowers, etc that originated in another state, region, or country — have any place amongst native species. The idea being that exotic plants require more care and/or resources than native ones, harming the natural ecological systems that lived here before us.
I still have a lot of questions and plenty to learn, but my curiosity — and our need for some serious tree coverage in the front yard — has made me the crazy lady taking pictures of neighbors’ trees while I walk my dogs.
How many tree species here in Georgia are native to the land? How many are “exotic”? Do I have a good variety to choose from? Or am I gonna be spending all my time avoiding trees with an accent? These are the questions that take up the most real estate in my brain these days.
In terms of tree nativity, Georgia is no underdog. It boasts 313 native species and 77 exotic ones, according to BONAP (The Biota of North America Program), which means that 80% of its tree biodiversity is made up of native tree species.
South Carolina takes the cake in this respect, with 84.8% of its tree species being native, followed closely by Alaska’s 84.6%. But as it turns out, Alaska also has the fewest total number of tree species. And Hawaii, which is about as 50/50 as it gets, has by far the most.
A total of 16 states, including Georgia, have a 4:1 ratio or higher, as highlighted in the chart below. But of those states, only Georgia and Texas have more than 300 native species.
When I take both factors into account — number of native tree species I have to choose from and the number of exotic species I’d like to avoid — Georgia fares pretty well. Which makes me even more inclined to go with a tree that’s native to the area.
I would be curious to find out how/where these native species exist in any given state. I wonder, for example, if there’s a correlation between exotic species and affluence — the number of Japanese Crape Myrtles, originally from Japan as their name suggests, seem to exist far more often in my neighborhood and the surrounding HOAs than they do in other less wealthy areas.
And while permaculture does require a heavy downpayment, the upkeep for non-native landscape design (e.g. Japanese Myrtles) would likely prove to be more expensive, given the need to work against the elements. Are exotic trees more expensive? Does it matter what tree is giving you shade when your state’s summers get into the three digits? And do exotic trees ever become first generation dwellers who become natives?
More research to come. More acquaintances’ trees to photograph.