In a dark forest lived an evil fungus
July 31, 2008
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DANIEL DALE
STAFF REPORTER
For decades, it was an unremarkable tree overlooking an unremarkable patch of High Park.
In the oak's shadow stood a forlorn playground. It had a teeter-totter, hanging bars, and swings; it was, a Toronto parks and recreation official told the Star in 1996, "a bit of an embarrassment."
But in that year, the little-liked patch of park took a dramatic turn for the better. The park's citizens advisory group decided to build a new playground – just as the little-noticed oak on the slope was taking a dramatic turn for the worse.
The group solicited ideas from the local community. It recruited a 16-member design advisory team: eight adults, eight children. And it retained renowned playground architect Robert Leathers.
Like many of Leathers' creations, this playground would be whimsical. It would have the spires and raised bridges of a medieval castle; the wooden walls of its nooks would be painted to look like castle windows; its slide would fall through a multi-storey play structure.
And it would be located in a clearing in the trees.
"It's like a fairy tale," said Robin Sorys, the current chair of the advisory group.
Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood were threatened by villains lurking in their enchanted forests. The children of High Park would be threatened by the enchanted forest itself.
In May 1998, thousands of community volunteers assembled much of the playground, which was renamed the Jamie Bell Adventure Playground following the death of the advisory group leader who spearheaded its development. Hundreds of volunteers gathered to finish it in the spring of 1999.
Sometime around then, city officials say, a fungus infected the oak.
According to the city, the tree was born from an acorn soon after World War II. "Oaks get to be 150, 200, 350, 400," said Ian Bruce, an arborist and president of Bruce Tree Expert Company; other oaks in High Park, Bruce said, are "well over 100 years old."
But – possibly during a rainstorm – this 50-odd-year-old acquired some sort of "wound" in its bark. The fungus, possibly carried by the air or by rainwater running down its trunk, gained entry.
And the oak's slow demise began.
On the outside, the city says, it showed no signs of distress. On the inside, it was being eaten alive.
Like the witches of Brothers Grimm lore, tree-invading fungi are ravenous. Once they have infected a tree, Bruce said, they "move from one `room' to the next, as it were, one wood cell to the next," feeding on its contents.
After 3 p.m. Tuesday afternoon, the 20-metre tree toppled. When it fell onto the playground, it broke a woman's arm and slightly injured a 10-year-old boy.
But, as in so many fairy tales, potential catastrophe turned into averted catastrophe.
The oak missed dozens of other playing young people. And it only damaged two of the castle spires, which will be easily rebuilt.
The menace is dead. The playground, and its enchanted children, will live happily ever after.
Toronto Star