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It was my fascination with Anacua that caused me to throw caution to the wind and taste the berries even though I could not find a definitive source that stated they were edible for humans. At the time, Ehretia anacua was not available in retail garden centers. I had become familiar with the tree while volunteering in the San Antonio Missions National Historical Park, one of the few local public lands where this native species is respected and maintained appropriately. For two years I collected seeds from any public right-of-way where they had fallen and could be collected within the limits of the law.
But after two years of planting seeds along two sides of the backyard, there were still no saplings. Then one day at a tree give-away in Southeast San Antonio, there was an Ehretia anacua in a pot. Not even the people giving trees away knew what it was. I carried that tiny tree carefully home as if it were the most priceless, fragile item; and planted it in the middle of all those buried Anacua seeds that had not sprouted. Two weeks later, the buried seeds next to the little tree sprouted and grew, and then the ones on either side of them, until nearly 50 seeds sprouted and I had to weed some out as the hedge of Anacua rose around two sides of the yard. Like the couple who finally adopt and then suddenly discover they are pregnant, the seeds sprouted in falling-domino fashion in both directions from the adopted tree.
A decade later, emerging arboriculture research may explain what happened. This level of research is emerging from a combination of nanotechnology and practical human innovation by researchers who stopped trying to bring what they were studying into the laboratory and instead set up their observations in the ecosystem. The result is an emphasis on mycorrhizae, and the symbiotic relationship between soil fungus and plant roots. Very recent research indicates that in the absence of any specific fungus the roots of a species need. It will not grow even in the presence of all needed nutrients and adequate moisture. Hundreds of Anacua seeds buried in my yard did not sprout until one Anacua sapling and the soil containing its mycorrhizae were transplanted next to them.
Indeed, that one free sapling was priceless to me! Anacua berries are my favorite food! They also seem to be highly-favored by birds, as they will ignore other ripe fruits on other plants in the understory until all Anacua fruit is consumed.
One year there was an abundant harvest of many fruits. I was surprised to find many ripe Malpighia glabra cherries because the birds would eat most of them before I get them (Now that has been corrected by planting my own smaller garden and letting them harvest the rest). As I stood amidst the understory popping cherries into my mouth, many cardinals and mockingbirds flew over and observed me curiously, then flew back to the Anacua trees and continued feasting on all the Anacua berries that had been out of my reach.
Anacua trees bloom profusely, but some years there are few berries. There are years when storms and gusty winds knock the blooms off the trees. In those years, native fruit-eating birds have to rely more on the smaller fruit-bearing trees and shrubs for survival.
Ehretia anacua and Cordia boissieri “Anacahuita” are similar-sized trees that are members of the borage family. Both are evergreen in the southern part of their ranges in eastern Mexico but may be deciduous in the northern part of their native distributions, in South Texas. These trees are important to the native Rio Grande riparian woodlands and extremely important as nectar sources for migrating butterflies.
Ehretia anacua is the exclusive host of the leaf-eating Anacua Tortoise Beetle, which is sure to fascinate and delight any human who spies its unique clear-looking “tortoise” shell on the underside of a leaf.
Ehretia anacua (USDA symbol EHAN), has common names from different centuries. The origin of its scientific name and the common name “Anacahuita” of its relative, is a combination of two Nahuatl words of the Aztecs: amatl (paper) and cuahuitl (tree).
Anacua is one of the rare trees that arborists usually allow to do its own thing, as it does not respond as expected to standard pruning techniques but also does not seem to suffer harm from crossed branches and growths that could weaken other trees. An Anacua grove of five trees in my yard are close enough that when lightning struck, all five of them got the tell-tale black burn stripe down their trunks to the ground. A reputable arborist looked at the still-thriving trees two years later and dismissed the tree’s health after a potentially-fatal incident as another way that Anacua defies the norm.
The naturally-arching branches of Anacua can give a mature tree a profile similar to a Live Oak. But Anacua does not require a century of growth to develop that height. A tree grown from seed can reach the height of a one-story building in about three years, then thicken as it grows. Anacua growth in height appears to be strongly dependent upon rainfall. It responds like cactus: When there is no rain, it remains green and looks the same day after day. Then when there is heavy rainfall, suddenly the plant looks taller one day because it is sending so much moisture and energy into new growth.
Like cactus, Anacua is extremely drought-tolerant. It has tiny dot patterns on the leaf surface to prevent moisture loss. The leaves look more deep green and smooth in seasons with plentiful rain and clouds. In hot, dry seasons the protective surface of the leaves is more evident. This protective surface accounts for another common name: “Sandpaper Tree” which originated from settlers using the leaves to sand. Anacua wood was also used for tool handles and fenceposts.
Ehretia anacua is a major species of the lower Rio Grande riparian woodlands. Much of its habitat may be lost during construction of a border wall.
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**ARCHIVED POST AUTHOR: cywinski
