Frautschi Point work meant to restore oak savanna

When you’re in the business of restoring lost landscapes, sometimes a chain saw is your best friend.

That, at least, is the case when it comes to recreating oak savanna, a form of prairie that was once as ubiquitous as Wisconsin corn fields and cow pastures.

But when it comes to clearing the trees and shrubs that have invaded and all but erased this natural feature of Wisconsin’s past, eyebrows, and sometimes voices, tend to be raised. This gut reaction greets folks at the UW–Madison Arboretum whenever they attempt to return a few acres to oak savanna, as they are now beginning to do on Frautschi Point, a swatch of woody land west of Picnic Point.

The root of the problem, says Arboretum Director Gregory D. Armstrong, is a visceral human reaction to timber cutting: “People are simply amazed that you’re cutting down trees.”

They don’t like it, he says. To some who care deeply about trees, the act seems to counter the idea of good stewardship.

Armstrong first ran into a buzzsaw over tree cutting in 1992 when the Arboretum began its first oak savanna restoration, the Wingra Oak Savanna, along Monroe Street. He now faces similar questions as the Arboretum begins the process of returning Frautschi Point to the oak savanna it once was.

It’s not a groundswell of opposition, he notes, but the issue was served up from the instant crews began clearing weedlike box elder and green ash trees from what used to be the garden of Dr. Reginald Jackson, the last person to have a home in the 17-acre patch of woods now known as Frautschi Point.

To restore an oak savanna, most — but not all — trees must be removed and the native prairie grasses and flowers replanted to begin a years-long healing process. Some trees, like box elder and green ash, are invasive and can quickly force out native plants if they are not controlled with fire or saw.

And now, just as they did seven years ago when residents of the Dudgeon-Monroe neighborhood were alarmed by the sight of falling trees, Armstrong and his staff spend hours patiently explaining to worried observers that, in some instances, sawing down trees and clearing brush is the most expedient way to restore an original landscape.

Wingra Oak Savanna is a case in point. It was transformed, says Armstrong, when a thicket of weedy trees was cleared to reveal huge, ancient oaks set against a Lake Wingra backdrop. Sown as a prairie, the Wingra Oak Savanna experiment was the first of its kind in Wisconsin.

“In this case, we’re making a change in the landscape that we feel is a positive one,” Armstrong contends. Recreating oak savanna will “make Frautschi Point a more interesting and biologically richer place than it currently is. We feel it is going to be a magnificent addition to the campus natural areas, to restore its ecological health.”

Once, Madison and nearly all the land around it was a seemingly boundless plain, a prairie regularly swept clean by fire and broken only here and there by the solitary fire-tolerant burr oak or small oak grove. The frequent occurrence of fire ensured that the deciduous woodlands we’ve grown accustomed to never had a chance to develop.

But with European settlement — and the exotic trees and shrubs that came with them — and the active suppression of wildfire, the oak savanna in Wisconsin became a memory as uncultivated land assumed a mantle of brush and trees.

In the case of the Wingra Oak Savanna, Armstrong and his staff not only assuaged neighborhood fears, but managed to engage a significant group of neighbors in the restoration project. They are now some of its most avid supporters.

“It takes some effort to help people understand what you’re trying to do,” Armstrong explained. “But if you take the time, most people can see that you’re trying to do the right thing, and that the outcome will be positive.”

For Frautschi Point, the restoration is currently on hold as the university community reevaluates a master plan for all campus natural areas. But the work already done has cleared space around an old oak whose low, sweeping branches tell us that it once shared Frautschi Point not with other trees, but with the prairie grasses and flowers that may soon return.