The other morning, one of my girls spotted a cardinal before I did—bright flash of red in the holly tree. “Check it off!” she shouted, sprinting to our bird list by the window.

I didn’t expect to be a bird guy. But these days, I’m paying more attention—to what’s in the branches, what’s calling from the canopy, and how much life is moving through the trees I’ve spent my career caring for.

I don’t climb much anymore. These days, I spend more time walking properties and talking with folks about their trees—what needs pruning, what’s worth keeping, what’s become a hazard. Lately, I’ve noticed more people pointing to specific limbs and saying, “Leave that one—the birds like it.” And I get it now.

Out back, we see cardinals, woodpeckers, mourning doves. Sometimes a red-tailed hawk overhead. The checklist is taped by the window, and the girls love checking off a new visitor. It’s simple, but it’s something we do together, and it’s made me slow down in a way I didn’t expect.

Trees aren’t just trees. They’re neighborhoods. That dead limb you thought looked messy might be the perfect perch. That hollowed trunk? It might be somebody’s home.

So now, when a client asks me to leave a snag or a low branch because they’ve seen a bird there—I don’t argue. I make a note. Because caring for trees also means respecting what’s living in them.

Next time you’re out in your yard, stop and listen. Chances are, the trees are already busy—you just have to look

There’s a swing in our back yard that hangs from a limb thick enough to hold a small car. My kids fly back and forth under that Sweet Gum canopy-laughing, twisting, asking for one more push.

It’s not tucked into a corner. It stands rear center, right in the heart of everything. At almost 3’ in diameter, the trunk has presence. It’s steady. The scaffolding of limbs stretches out like it’s been planning this layout longer than we’ve lived here.

I didn’t plant this tree. It came with the house. Early on, I didn’t think much about it-until winter rolled in and the gum balls started falling.

If you lived with a sweet gum, you know exactly what I mean. The gum balls drop like spiked marbles-hundreds of them. You rake them. Step on them. Curse them. And for a while, that’s all I noticed.

But that changed.

This tree holds the whole backyard together. It shades our cookouts. It’s a landing spot for birds, squirrels and a swing that’s already outgrown one child. It’s where we pitch the tent in the summer. It’s where I place a spot light aiming up into its canopy on fire pit Saturday nights to see its amazing form. It’s where we gather to play corn hole and keep cool under its branches in the hot summer. The more I paid attention, the more I saw its generosity.

Sweet gums aren’t quiet. They are not tidy. But they show up year after year and do their work. In a time when so much is designed to be convenient, a tree like this reminds me that not everything valuable should be low-maintenance. This tree has taught me how to make peace with mess. How to see structure in chaos. How to let something be big, and imperfect, and rooted.

It’s not a perfect tree. But it’s honest. And it is ours.

                

Laura (my wife) and I just got back from our honeymoon, a whirlwind trip through Italy and Switzerland. While she was capturing photos of landmarks, I was getting sidetracked by the trees. At one point in Lucerne, Switzerland, she looked over at me, staring up at a row of trees along the waterfront. “What’s up with these trees and their paddles?” she asked. And just like that, our romantic getaway turned into a discussion on pollarding, pruning methods and why European trees look different from the ones back home in Richmond. 

Pollarding vs. Topping

One of the biggest things I noticed (especially in Lucerne), was how common pollarding was. It’s an old-world pruning technique where trees are cut back to the same points year after year, creating thick, knobby growth points. Done right, it keeps trees compact and manageable in urban spaces while encouraging fresh growth.

That’s very different from topping, which is unfortunately far more common back in the U.S.. Topping is when someone chops off the top of a tree—usually to control height without any regard for structure or long-term health. It’s one of the worst things you can do—it weakens the tree, invites disease, and leads to weak, fast-growing limbs that are more likely to fail down the road.

As a certified arborist, I’ve actually signed an agreement with the International Society of Arboriculture stating I will not top trees. So seeing cities where pollarding was not only common but done correctly was fascinating. Pollarding is a technique that takes commitment—you can’t just do it once and walk away—but when it’s maintained properly, it creates strong, structured trees instead of butchered ones.

Trees as Part of the Scenery

Another interesting pruning method I noticed was how trees weren’t just shaped for maintenance but also to complement the landscape. In Italy, the pruned trees seemed intentionally shaped to frame monuments, allowing clear sight-lines to historic architecture and monuments rather than blocking them. It felt like the trees were just as much a part of each city’s aesthetic as the architecture itself. It made me wonder why we don’t take this approach more often back home. Too often in the U.S., trees are treated as obstacles to be cut back for clearance or removed when they get in the way. But in these European cities, trees were woven into the urban design rather than being an afterthought.

Bringing It Back Home

I don’t think Laura expected a full-on arboriculture discussion during our honeymoon, but that’s what happens when you travel with a tree guy. She got her photos of monuments, and I got my photos of pollarded and other interesting trees—it was a win-win.

I was grateful to witness the styles of pruning on our trip to Europe and ponder what would be deemed acceptable back home. Pollarding in some instances could be called “crape murder” among our landscapes. This is an ongoing discussion between right and wrong. It may or may not be the right method, but with the mindset behind it—long-term, thoughtful pruning instead of reactionary cuts—could go a long way in shaping healthier urban forests.

One thing’s for sure – wherever we travel next, I’ll be looking up!