An Evergreen Parasite, Sitting in a Tree

Following the Druids into the Chacahoula Swamp

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Imagine: Mr. Gary—your friend’s dad—picks you up from school wearing his Santa hat, red scarf, and white shrimp boots. He passes around hot chocolate and raccoon pelt hats to fend off the wet chill of a Louisiana December. We’re going on a mistletoe hunt. 

Between renditions of Christmas carols, Mr. Gary recounts the Druids’ tradition, as told by the Roman philosopher Pliny the Elder. Wearing white robes, the Druids would go out into the forest during the winter solstice, hoist each other up into the trees, and throw the mistletoe down onto white sheets of snow. Though this ritual is associated with paganism, it has since been co-opted into the Christmas tradition.

For miles, you study the sparse treetops for those out-of-place green clumps. Water oaks and elms are mistletoe’s favorites. You and your friends tumble out of the car into Chacahoula Swamp. Deer rustle in the brush, woodpeckers cry, and bald eagles soar overhead. Gazing into the treetops, Mr. Gary lays out the rules.

“Most people bring a shotgun and shoot it out of the tree, which works. But then, you get mistletoe with holes in it, and it’s loud,” he says. “I like to come and be quiet like a bobcat. I kind of revere the woods. I think it’s a little more peaceful and a little more reverent if you don’t use a shotgun. Oftentimes, if you see mistletoe high in a tree, you can also find it low in a tree so it doesn’t have to be shot out.” Sometimes you can reach it by climbing, he goes on, but other times you can use a pole saw. 

When the first clump of mistletoe falls to the ground, you inspect it more closely: it has the iconic white berries—“more potent for kissing,” according to Mr. Gary. Indeed, the evergreen mistletoe symbolizes fertility, and its white berries—slimy to the touch—were a sign of virility for the Druids, likely reminding them of spermatozoa. Mistletoe was considered sacred, indicative of a bountiful spring harvest following harsh winters.

You place your bounty in the ice chest in the back of the pickup. Later, you’ll tie your cuttings together to deliver to your loved ones for the holidays. 

But in the meantime, Wilson’s Kountry Korner store in Schriever is a great place to grab a poboy.

Dr. Gary LaFleur, a biology professor at Nicholls State University, where he is also the Director of the Center for Bayou Studies, often took me on these adventures when I was growing up. 

“I’ve always been a collector from the woods,” he told me when I recalled these trips with him recently. “During Christmas, they sell plastic mistletoe at the stores, and that just seems terrible and fake. We have all this mistletoe that’s free: all you gotta do is go get it. That’s kinda what I love about foraging.”

Mistletoe is an evergreen plant, though it’s easier to harvest in the cooler months because it is more visible in trees whose leaves have fallen. Though native to Louisiana, some consider mistletoe an invasive species given its classification as a chlorophyllous hemiparasite. This means that while mistletoe can perform some photosynthesis on its own, it also depends on a host tree to supply additional water and nutrients

“[Mistletoe] has to bore into the branch … its root has to push through the bark of the tree in order to tap into the tree’s [vascular] system,” LaFleur explained. 

In an article on the subject published by the LSU AgCenter, Robert J. Souvestre writes, “This parasite can stress trees, especially in times of drought, and can kill branches they are growing on if the tree is in a weakened state of health brought on by environmental conditions or construction activity… Even on healthy trees, mistletoe can be bad because it adds additional weight and mass to the tree branch. Branches containing mistletoe can become weaker in strength, which increases the potential for structural failure from wind or weight.” 

 For this reason, despite its popularity during Christmastime, the plant tends to be considered a “harbinger of unhealth in the forest,” according to LaFleur. 

If mistletoe grows in one of your trees, you have few options. Pruning the mistletoe itself or cutting the entire infected tree limb are short-term fixes, but once the seed germinates, a root-like haustoria develops that enables it to regrow. Birds will also spread the seeds. 

“In some winters, when it’s hard for a bird to find some seeds, mistletoe berries become an important food item,” LaFleur explained. According to Souvestre, “birds wipe their beaks onto tree branches to remove the sticky seed. In doing so, they spread mistletoe from branch to branch and tree to tree.”

“The best advice is to maintain tree health by watering in the absence of adequate rainfall,” Souvestre said. This makes the tree less vulnerable to the stresses brought on by the mistletoe. 

The tradition that those caught under hanging mistletoe are expected to kiss originated as part of Norse mythology. “It is a tricky rule,” said LaFleur. “Something like, with each kiss, the kisser could take a white berry. Once all the white berries had been picked, then the mistletoe had no more kisses to offer.” 

The kissing part of the ritual is wholly optional, in LaFleur’s book on the tradition. When he delivers his bounty to friends and family come Christmastime—often wearing a Santa hat like Father Christmas himself, he typically hangs it up and says, “Good luck! Let me know if you have any questions!” or, “Mistletoe.com has a delivery for ya!” 

“Foraging for mistletoe was fun for us as kids, and as an adult, I can see that we were shepherds of an ancient tradition—one that shouldn’t be forgotten or replaced by plastic,” said LaFleur’s daughter, Hannah. “The tradition connects us to our community, our environment, and our past, and it was a really special tradition for me growing up.”

Lauren Richard, another childhood friend who accompanied us on these expeditions, also recalls those memories fondly. “It was never really about the mistletoe,” she said. “In fact, when people would ask where he found all this mistletoe every year, you’d always get a ‘I can’t tell you, but I can show you!’ from Mr. Gary. It was about creating these magical little childhood moments for us—about spending time together and cultivating a joy of Christmas within us that a store-bought gift couldn’t.”