After the leaves of sumac have fallen, the large, inverted cones of tiny red fruits that poke up from the tops of their wide crowns give the trees a top-heavy look – a look that is even more striking when, on some still mornings, the fruits are heaped with yet bigger cones of snow.
In late winter and early spring, the lowly sumac achieves heroic status, at least among the birds, who eagerly seek out the very fruits that they scorned the previous fall, when better fare was available. Returning bluebirds are often first seen in patches of sumac, which are popular meeting places for other returning migrants as well. Flickers, hermit thrushes, cardinals, catbirds, robins, purple finches, evening grosbeaks, red-eyed vireos, ruffed grouse, and crows are just a few of the birds that gather at sumac when other food is scarce.
Short-lived and barely more than a shrub, sumac flourishes on exceedingly poor sites. New stems sprout vigorously from the roots, and large clones crowd up to railroad tracks and fill vacant lots – places no self-respecting tree would consider. Full sunlight is essential: only sumac skeletons are found in deep woods. The tallest specimens reach 35 feet, and heights of 25 feet are considered an achievement. The branchy wood never achieves proper sawlog dimensions, is light in weight, weak, brittle, and not particularly good looking when planed.
Staghorn sumac, the most common sumac species in New Hampshire and Vermont, is also the easiest sumac to identify. Many of its parts are densely hairy: the buds, twigs, flowers, fruit, and even the midribs of the long compound leaves. The name “staghorn” itself is hairy, from the twigs’ resemblance to a stag’s antlers “in the velvet.” If the hairiness doesn’t give its identity away, look for a milky sap from twigs broken in summer or the silvery sheen on the undersides of the leaves. It grows south and west from Cape Breton Island to include most of the eastern U.S. in its range.
Despite its obvious shortcomings, sumac is praiseworthy in every season. The large, compound leaves grow only from the ends or near the ends of the branches; old branches bear no leaves. In summer, they form a single sunlit layer, held high by stout branches in a wide, spreading crown. This shape is so unlike any other tree or shrub that the richness of the landscape would surely be diminished if there were no sumac.
The male and female flowers open in June and are usually borne on separate trees, which explains why some trees never bear fruit. Both male and female flowers form in large, pyramidal clusters of tiny flowers. The fruit turns from green to red over the summer.
Sumac’s autumn colors are magnificent, and, fortunately for us, the poor and disturbed sites that this shrub tolerates are often along roads and highways. Each patch is different from the next, one mixing vivid green with bright pink, while the next combines mellow orange and hot purple.
Chipmunks and skunks eat sumac seeds, and rabbits, hare, and deer browse the twigs year round. It is a preferred species for moose, and rabbits are said to be especially fond of tender sumac seedlings.
Humans, too, have found some uses for sumac. The name itself may come from “shoe-make” because the leaves and twigs are so rich in tannin that, in the past, leathermakers preferred sumac for their finest grades of leather. The fat, cylindrical twigs make good spiles for collecting maple sap, after poking out the large, brown pith. A longer sumac pipe can be used to blow life into a reluctant campfire, and black ink can be made by boiling the leaves and fruit in water.
When they ripen in late summer, a lemonade-like drink can be made from the fruit. After boiling with water (or simply leaving fruit and water in a jar in the sun), the mixture can be strained through cheesecloth to remove the hairs and then mixed with some sugar. Sumac is in the cashew family, the Anacardiaceae, and has some notoriously toxic relatives, including poison oak and poison ivy. It occasionally causes allergic reactions in sensitive people, so it may not be a good idea to start out by drinking a large quantity.
Sumacs grow fast – 1.5 feet the first year and over your head the second – and are used ornamentally in Europe. Locally, their bad reputation as weeds has kept them from being sold as landscape trees. Too bad, because the trees are unusually free of insects and diseases – perhaps because of all that tannin. If you want a good bird magnet in spring, an interesting sculpture in summer, a brilliant fall display, and a welcome spot of red in winter, you could have it all in the lowly sumac.