Alaska's Cherry Tree

      Hi Folks! 

     The welfare and natural beauty of our great state of Alaska would be greatly enhanced by a vigorous and widespread effort to plant chokecherry trees in every suitable location throughout the state. These hardy and attractive trees offer ornamental value, support wildlife, and thrive in our challenging northern climate. But most importantly, they are an essential part of our life on earth!   

     Yet, for reasons unexplained, the Alaska Department of Natural Resources has labeled this impressive species as invasive—a designation unsupported by any clear or credible evidence.

     On their own website, under the heading "Why are chokecherry trees a problem?", the department’s very first justification is: “Chokecherries are not native to Alaska!” By that logic, every apple tree in the state must be invasive too—so should we dig them up and haul them to the landfill? And while we're at it, let’s get rid of all those Colorado blue spruces, since they aren't native either. Don’t forget the abundance of Siberian larches—clearly, they’ll need to be chopped down or shipped back to Siberia!

     Alaska has no invasive trees—none. If a tree can survive and thrive within our Alaskan plant hardiness zones, it is not invasive by nature. It should be welcomed, cultivated, and propagated wherever and whenever possible to restore and enhance our landscape.

     Yet, the Alaska Department of Natural Resources claims that chokecherry trees “outcompete native vegetation.” This is a careless and unsubstantiated assertion. In my nearly fifty years as an Alaskan—traveling extensively along our roads and trails—I have not seen a single chokecherry growing wild. Not one.

     I wish the opposite were true. I wish our forests were flourishing with the vibrant presence of chokecherry trees—replacing the bleak, needleless skeletons of dying spruce. The spruce bark beetle has ravaged our forests, leaving behind dry fuel for wildfires that have destroyed homes and claimed lives. We desperately need resilient, beautiful species like the chokecherry to reclaim and restore our devastated woodlands.

     Another questionable claim made by the Department is that the chokecherry “supports fewer terrestrial insects than native plants.” 

I wasn't aware that Alaska is in need of more insects. From what I can tell, we already have plenty—spruce bark beetles, house flies, mosquitoes, and a whole host of other flying pests—more than enough to keep our frogs, fish, and birds well-fed.

There is a small element of truth in the DNR’s claim that chokecherry trees “have caused cyanide poisoning of moose.” But let’s be clear: moose don’t like chokecherry trees and generally avoid eating them. The rare exception occurs during especially harsh winters, when snow is deep and food is scarce. In such cases, a starving moose may resort to nibbling on a chokecherry tree. For a yearling calf, this could be fatal—but these cases are extremely rare.

     The actual mortality rate of moose from chokecherry ingestion is minuscule, especially when compared to the hundreds of moose killed each year by collisions with vehicles and trains. Perhaps our highways and the Alaska Railroad should be considered invasive, too.

     As for my own chokecherry trees, they’re enclosed in a large fenced area—not so much to protect the moose as to protect the trees.

The DNR states that chokecherry tree “seeds can be spread by birds and other wildlife.” That’s true—but in reality, those seeds have very little chance of sprouting or surviving, especially in this new era of global burn.  A chokecherry seedling requires consistent moisture to establish itself, and in the wilds of Alaska, that’s a tough order. In all my years here, I’ve never seen a chokecherry tree that has sprouted on its own out in the wilds of Alaska, and I have for many years explored Alaska’s great outdoors.

     I sincerely wish this magnificent tree could spread across Alaska. It would unquestionably contribute to the health and beauty of our forests, streams, and greenbelts, enriching the ecosystem rather than harming it.

     To this day, I’ve been unable to find even a single fact that supports the Department of Natural Resources’ claim that the chokecherry is invasive. What’s more baffling is their apparent determination to convince Alaskans that this tree is somehow undesirable—a mission that seems entirely misguided.

     The chokecherry tree is not the enemy. Frankly, the Department of Natural Resources’ campaign against it appears to be more about justifying someone’s position within the Alaska Division of Forestry and Fire Protection than about protecting our environment.

This effort is not only a misuse of public funds—it’s also a disservice to the very environment this agency was created to protect.

Why is Alaska the only place on Earth so determined to label the chokecherry as invasive?

     Cross the border into Canada, and the same tree is celebrated. There, the chokecherry is valued for its deep cultural, ecological, medicinal, and ornamental significance—especially by Canada’s Indigenous communities. It is a respected part of their landscape, not a threat to it.

     The chokecherry tree plays a vital role in supporting a healthy environment. And in this era of global climate stress and intensifying wildfires, we need every resilient, beneficial species we can get—immediately.

     Please—go out and plant a tree! It doesn’t have to be a chokecherry, but if you’re looking for a fast-growing tree that offers cool, refreshing shade on a hot summer day, it’s an excellent choice. Mountain ash is another wonderful option.

     Trees help purify the air, absorbing carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen into Alaska’s fresh northern breeze. They trap dust, smoke, and pollutants, and offer natural cooling in the midst of this global burn we are now facing.

     Of all the tree species I’m fortunate to live among, the chokecherry tree is, without a doubt, the most beautiful. Its leaves are a radiant, almost fluorescent green throughout the growing season. The bark peels back in coppery sheets—exfoliating and majestic in every sense. In May and June, stunning white blossoms cover its branches, and come autumn, it bursts into a vibrant display of golden yellow.

     To My fellow Alaskans and to everyone reading this message, we are living in a time of global distress—of war and unrest, famine and flooding, erosion and fire. Our planet is suffering. And while we may not be able to fix it all at once, each of us can do something meaningful.

     Though it may seem small—plant a tree.

     We need trees—all trees—to help clean our air and stabilize our climate. We need trees to enrich our soil, to feed and shelter our birds and wildlife, and to bring peace and tranquility to the human spirit—especially in times like these.

     You don’t need to visit a nursery or a big-box store to get your hands on a chokecherry tree. They can be easily propagated by asking a neighbor or friend for a few cuttings. A quick internet search will show you how to root chokecherry cuttings using rooting hormone—and voilà, you’re on your way to creating a healthier, more beautiful future for yourself and your community.

     I know I’m not alone in being perplexed by the Alaska Department of Natural Resources’ decision to list the chokecherry tree as invasive. They’ve failed to present a single piece of factual evidence to support that claim. If anything, this magnificent tree deserves to be celebrated. In fact, I’d argue it’s more worthy of being Alaska’s state tree than the current Sitka spruce—which, sadly, is now dead or dying across much of the state due to the devastation caused by bark beetles.

     It’s time we take a more balanced, evidence-based approach to what we label as “invasive”—and stop penalizing plants simply because they weren’t “born” here.

     And finally, this: the chokecherry is not only mislabeled as an invasive species—it’s misnamed. This tree doesn’t “choke” anyone or anything.

     I think I’ll just call it Alaska’s Cherry Tree.

Sincerely,

G.B. Jones