“The Holly and the Ivy” at Cap Sante

The holly and the ivy, When they are both full-grown, Of all the trees that are in the wood, The holly bears the crown.

Since medieval times in the Old Country, holly and ivy have reflected a Christian symbolism, expressed in the Christmas carol "The Holly and the Ivy", in which holly represents Jesus and ivy represents his mother Mary.

If they only knew the negative implications both represent on our side of the pond.

What’s Wrong with Holly?

Yes, the winter berries are red, the leaves dark green, so they are perfect for holiday decorations.

But English holly (Ilex aquifolium) is invasive, especially here, where it outcompetes native plants for space and resources. Once established, holly can form impassable thickets, growing into trees 15-50 feet tall that are very difficult to remove permanently. Holly berries, although attractive, contain seeds that birds eat and disperse into native plant communities.

Holly trees are scattered throughout Cap Sante, but mostly near the 5^th Street entrance and over to the stadium. Did you know there are male and female holly trees? You can see the difference between males and females right now, as only the female plants have the berries.

Male holly plants on left, female with berries on right, along the east Cap Sante trail

(I couldn’t figure out why there were so many holly trees invading Deception Pass State Park until I drove by a farm southeast of the park that grows acres of humongous holly trees, awesome food for birds that then fly to the park to poop the seeds as a holiday gift.)

Removing holly is tough.

Small and young holly plants can be pulled out by the roots, especially when the soil is soft and wet. 

Larger plants must be cut to ground level. Cutting alone will not eliminate holly as it regrows from its roots. Mature holly roots can grow 3 feet deep. Digging out the roots is hard work!

Do not leave cuttings on the ground — the cuttings will take root and sprout a new plant.

But I don’t think holly deserves the “crown” the song mentions. English Ivy is a far more destructive invasive.

A dense thicket of English ivy

When I first came to Anacortes and hiked at Cap Sante, English ivy (Hedera helix) had overwhelmed the forest. “It will be an impossible task to remove that,” I thought to myself.

Wrong. It just takes the right people and never-ending follow-through.

Anacortes hired a prison crew with eight inmate laborers. The supervisor ran a Bobcat through the growth, while inmates used hand tools to pull the ivy out by its roots. They worked 10-hour days for weeks. Then volunteers built the disk golf course through the now-open forest, which helps keep the ivy in check.

Ivy climbing a tree -- again -- in Cap Sante, with the bones of its last invasion still clinging to the tree.

I looked around Deception Pass and saw the same problem there, especially at Rosario.

Susan Alaynick, a sparkplug of a woman packed into a body that could not have been even five feet tall, took it upon herself to rid Rosario Head of all ivy. Now, mind you, ivy covered the entire forest floor on Rosario Head. Month by month, inch by inch, vine by vine, by herself, without fanfare, Susan removed every ivy plant on the head.

What’s wrong with Ivy?

Originally brought to our area as a ground cover, English Ivy can be highly destructive to trees and overall forest health. It competes for sunlight and nutrients, can choke out all native plants and young trees entirely, and makes mature trees more susceptible to collapse in storms due to added weight and wind resistance.

English ivy will deny sun to the tree canopy it grows in, weakening the tree. Large-diameter ivy vines can constrict trunk growth, injuring the bark and creating entry sites for pests and disease.

Like holly, you can hand-pull or dig up seedlings. Larger plants have to be cut at ground level and the root fully removed to prevent regrowth. Yes, all of the root, which may be three times the size of the above-ground plant. Otherwise, it just keeps coming back.

Ivy is still slithering along the ground at Cap Sante. Look closely and you will find it. Until every sprig and sprout is gone, it will be hard at work to regain its former dominance. Volunteers remove patches from time to time and keep them from climbing trees to grow fruiting bodies.

But there are others, too

Unfortunately, Cap Sante, like much of Fidalgo, is also under siege from a different invasive: spurge laurel, also called daphne. This toxic shrub now fills the west side of Cap Sante and is nasty to deal with. But that’s a story for next year. Along with Scotch broom, yet another invasive that we can discuss next spring when it’s in bloom.

Should we just give up? The successful efforts by Susan, the inmates, and current volunteers say NO! Our native plants and wildlife say no. It’s our responsibility to be good stewards where we are planted. It’s our time. We can be that force of nature for good!

Pot Calling the Kettle?

An invasive by any other name… What’s another animal that dominates a landscape, spreads rapidly, changes the habitat to become a monoculture where only rats and pigeons are at home, reduces biodiversity, threatens forests and the entire planet, has no natural predators, and its species name identifies itself as the “wise” ones? Yeah, who are we to talk?

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For Nerds Like Me Only

The genus name "Ilex" comes from the Latin word for holm-oak or evergreen oak (Quercus ilex), reflecting the similarity in leaf appearance between the holm-oak and holly species. The species name “aquifolium” comes from the Latin words acus, meaning “needle,” and folium, meaning “leaf.” Needle-leaf seems very appropriate for the holly! The berries are generally regarded as toxic to humans.

Holly roots go down two feet on a one-foot-tall sprout

The fruit only appears on female plants, which require male plants nearby to fertilize them. (But do they put the toilet seat down?) The fruit is a drupe that matures around October or November; they are very bitter at this time, so they are rarely eaten until late winter after frost has made them softer and more palatable. Rodents, birds, and larger herbivores eat them .

A link to the Washington State Weed Control Board for Holly.

Hedera helix is derived from the Latin word Hedera, meaning "ivy," which is related to the Greek word khandánō, meaning "to get, grasp," ultimately stemming from the Proto-Indo-European root gʰed-, signifying "to seize, grasp, take".

The species name helix comes from the Latin helicem, meaning "spiral-shaped." Together, this translates to "the clinging plant that coils in spirals.” Very well named.

In ancient times, it was associated with the wine gods Dionysus and Bacchus in Greek and Roman mythology, and was considered sacred in ancient Egypt to Osiris, the god of fertility and the underworld. It has been used in early Christian symbolism and medieval cathedrals, symbolizing eternal life, loyalty, and fidelity. Marrying couples were often given ivy wreaths as a symbol of enduring love and commitment. The plant's persistent, clinging growth has also led to its use as a metaphor for enduring relationships and resilience.

Then again, hopefully your relationship with others isn’t clingy and smothering like that but rather mutually supportive. Just sayin’.

The Washington State Weed Control Board link for English ivy.