C.C. Lockwood
Photo of the National Champion Bald Cypress at Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge, taken in the 1980s.
I was around nine years old when I first laid eyes on the National Champion bald cypress tree nestled deep in the forests of my home parish of West Feliciana. My father had instilled his own profound love for nature in his only daughter, thus our pilgrimage to the tree did not come without some hype. “It’s the largest tree east of the Mississippi River,” he emphasized for the umpteenth time as his ’89 Volkswagen camper van rumbled down the dirt road into Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge. “It’s over a thousand years old.”
Having not quite breeched a decade myself, my grasp on size and time even more abstract than now, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But walking around the wide, gnarled base of the impossibly-immense tree, running my child-sized hand over decades’ worth of graffiti carved into its trunk, I gained a small semblance of understanding. I truly felt my smallness for the first time. I looked up toward the canopy, the crown obstructed by the sunbeams streaming through the foliage. Even as a child, I perceived a deep wisdom emitting from that tree—a wisdom only granted by time, by a thousand years spent as a silent observer of the ever-changing world.
Discovering a Champion
In the early 1980s, when the Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge property was still owned by Georgia-Pacific paper company, Georgia-Pacific foresters Desmond Clapp and Jeff Hunt came upon a jaw-droppingly large bald cypress tree. It turned out that tree broke the national record for largest bald cypress in the country at the time, and so it became the new National Champion.
“Well, about a month later, we found another one even bigger than that, and turned it in,” Clapp said, recalling the wonder of discovering so many huge, ancient cypress trees in one area. But he and Hunt had not even found the true behemoth, yet. “Then we were working down there and found this one, which dwarfed all the rest of ‘em,” Clapp recalled of his and Hunt’s discovery. “I mean, it’s just so much bigger than everything else.” Surely enough, they had discovered the new National Champion bald cypress, which has continued its reign ever since, unrivaled as the largest bald cypress tree in the United States.
While Jeff Hunt is now retired, Desmond Clapp lives and works in El Dorado, Arkansas today—where he still keeps a photograph and certificate commemorating his and Hunt’s discovery of the Champion Tree on the wall in his office. “I’ve got a box that is three feet deep of all the memorabilia from this tree over the years, from all over the United States,” Clapp told me over the phone, recalling how Louisiana Lottery used a photograph Clapp took of the tree on scratch-off lottery tickets. “So, I went out and bought a bunch of those lottery tickets with that picture on them. And I did not scratch them off, because I really wanted, you know, the original untouched thing. So, I may have had a winner, but I’ll go to my grave never knowin’ that.”
A Refuge is Formed
In October, 2000, Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge was formed by an act of Congress, which designated 36,500 acres for the refuge as the land could be purchased from existing landowners. Georgia-Pacific sold the federal government the initial ten thousand acres, with the Nature Conservancy of Louisiana acting as a holding company. Now, according to President of the Friends of Cat Island William Daniel, the refuge has expanded to 13,000 acres. “So, it’s growing over time. The federal government is an eternal entity—we will both be gone, and our grandkids will be gone, and they’ll still be thriving and acquiring land as long as it’s a willing seller.” Daniel also noted that unlike in most land sales in Louisiana, private land owners who sell property to the government to become part of the refuge can maintain their mineral rights in perpetuity—meaning they can not only keep them, but pass them on to heirs.
“I mean age . . . what that thing has seen. Black bears can den up in cypress trees, pileated woodpeckers, the [possibly] extinct ivory-billed woodpecker, barn owls—how many different animals have lived in that tree? Just imagine.” —C.C. Lockwood
“And the Champion Tree caused a big push to form this refuge. You know, it was a main factor in it,” Daniel explained of the formation of Cat Island, which was also founded to preserve a habitat for migratory birds and native animals. “It’s the largest hardwood bottomland forest along the lower Mississippi that’s unprotected by levees, which means it still floods on an annual cycle.”
Onward, the Flood
When Cat Island was formed in 2000—and certainly when the Champion Bald Cypress Tree was first discovered in 1981—Mississippi River flooding impacted the area much less severely and frequently than it does today. What was previously a “five year flood” of the river into Cat Island and downtown St. Francisville became an annual occurrence. “The only good thing that’s come out of this flooding—this constant, drastic flooding that we’ve been going through the last ten to fifteen years—is that more people are becoming willing sellers,” Daniel said. Landowners who previously leased property to deer hunters are unable to make much money if the land is only accessible a few months of the year. Land once utilized for timber is no longer lucrative, as the frequent flooding prevents the forest’s regrowth.
“It’s not just the annual flooding: it’s the heights it’s reaching, and it’s the duration that’s the killer,” explained Daniel. “Those trees down there are used to being flooded, but there are some that can’t take being underwater ten months out of the year. Being underwater two months, or three months, is no big deal. But when you stretch it out and they’re under water for ten months, and get two months of dry ground and then here it comes back for another ten months—there are certain species down in there that can’t take that. Those are the ones that start dyin’ first.”
St. Francisville-based nature photographer C.C. Lockwood has been visiting the Champion Tree since the early 1980s, when the property was still owned by Georgia-Pacific. “I saw the tree then, and had seen big trees across the state, and been fascinated with trees that have been there for so long. And that tree’s been there 1,500 years,” Lockwood marveled.
The profundity of the tree’s age, and consequentially the countless animals that have considered the specimen home throughout the centuries, keep Lockwood traveling back to visit and photograph the cypress year after year, even as flooding of the refuge has become more frequent and severe. “I mean age . . . what that thing has seen. Black bears can den up in cypress trees, pileated woodpeckers, the [possibly] extinct ivory-billed woodpecker, barn owls—how many different animals have lived in that tree? Just imagine.”
In 2011, when record levels of rainfall caused the Mississippi to flood more severely than it had since the major floods of 1927, Lockwood and fellow St. Francisville local Jimbo Roland planned to bring their kids to see the tree via bateau. “The water was forty feet, the crotch of the big tree is about twenty feet up. So, I said, ‘How are we gonna find it, out of these millions of trees?’”
Next time the water was down, Lockwood marked the coordinates of the Champion Tree on his iPad. Of the fifteen years he’s lived in West Feliciana, Lockwood has visited the tree by foot and boat every year, excluding two when the water was not high enough to sustain boat travel. “And it’s just magnificent … it would take me nine times to reach around it. But seven long-armed NBA players could do it,” Lockwood remarked with a chuckle.
“We’re really excited about this one, because it is several points higher than the [live oak] that’s on record now in Georgia. And while we do have great friends in Georgia, we’re happy to take the title back hopefully when we get all this submitted this year.”
While Lockwood’s determination and possession of a flat-bottomed bateau have continued to grant him access to the refuge even in high waters, the same cannot be said for much of the refuge’s wildlife. “When I went out [to photograph for the book Louisiana Wild: The Protected and Restored Lands of The Nature Conservancy], there was a little cottontail rabbit floating on a log. And the nearest land was four miles away. It was the day before Easter—the Easter Bunny was sitting out there.
“When it’s flooded you rarely see much wildlife, but if you go slow and paddle or stop, you’ll see a raccoon up in a tree, or a squirrel, or [hear] different birds chirping. When you’re out there just flying on by, you don’t see anything,” Lockwood said. “When the water goes down, and all the fish come out, and head back to the Mississippi, it is a birding paradise. That’s the nature of flood and recede. We’re just making it flood a lot longer due to all the levees and concrete.”
Rebuilding a Forest
The increase in flood frequency and severity prompted Daniel and the Friends of Cat Island to partner with the West Feliciana School System and the Louisiana Office of Forestry to launch a reforestation program. The Office of Forestry provides the seedlings; the Friends of Cat Island provide the pots, soil, and volunteers; and the school system provides the students and a place to keep the trees while they grow large enough to potentially survive the flooding when they are replanted at Cat Island. “We want them on the school system, so the kids can actually see them grow, and help take care of them,” Daniel explained.
When the trees are large enough, the students and Friends of Cat Island replant them at the refuge. The hope is that the same group of kids who start the seedlings will get to replant them at Cat Island, but increasingly early spring flooding makes the timing difficult. “This year, when we planted those trees, two days later it closed because of flooding,” Daniel told me. “We knew we were gonna have a lot of mortality, that’s just part of it. But every tree that we get to survive is one more that we have.”
Daniel said that if possible, he would like to see the program eventually expand to include schools beyond West Feliciana Parish. “It’s really fun watching the kids. Some of them take to it, some of them are not that keen on it. But you know, if you just get one or two interested in it, maybe you plant a seed for life in ‘em, and they’ll be tree people for the rest of their lives.”
C.C. Lockwood
Photo of the National Champion Bald Cypress at Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge, taken in the spring of 2022.
The Champion Endures
While extended annual flooding has devastated much of Cat Island’s plant growth and wildlife, the Champion Tree and other old-growth cypress remain relatively unbothered. “Well, bald cypress can grow in standing water. You see them grow in lakes all over the state, and they’re doing fine. But they do better out of the water,” said Brian Chandler, who served as the LSU AgCenter’s Area Extension Forester for the Florida Parishes until his retirement in 2017, and has re-measured the cypress three times to confirm its National Champion status.
Daniel explained that each habitat has a “climax species” that can survive with limited resources—in a hardwood bottomland forest like Cat Island, cypress is one of the climax species. Their strong, wide-spreading root systems protect them from being uprooted during storms, and they are less susceptible to wood-eating pests than other trees.
“It’s really fun watching the kids. Some of them take to it, some of them are not that keen on it. But you know, if you just get one or two interested in it, maybe you plant a seed for life in ‘em, and they’ll be tree people for the rest of their lives.” —William Daniel
Despite the hardy nature of bald cypress, there has been some disagreement over the health of Cat Island’s National Champion. In December of 2021, when the floodwaters had receded and students were out at the refuge planting their trees, the Refuge Manager Jimmy Laurent asked the State Forester Wade Dubea his opinion on the health of the tree. “It’s dying,” said Dubea. “But, it’s been dyin since the day it sprouted," countered Daniel. "All trees start dyin’ as soon as they start growin’. It’s just like any other organism that has a limited lifetime. It’s healthy, it’s gonna live longer than me and you, it’s gonna still be there when you and I are gone . . . It’s just an old tree growin’. It seems to be healthy and Cadillacin’ right along.”
A New Contender
For a tree to remain in good standing as a state or national champion, it must be re-verified every ten years, using official protocols. Chandler, the forester responsible for re-measuring champion trees until his retirement in 2017, explained that the process isn’t a simple one. Three measurements are taken from the tree: height, circumference, and crown spread. A point system and formula are then used to determine the tree’s standing—a tree gains a point for each foot of height, a point for each inch of circumference, and a quarter of a point for each foot of the average crown spread. “And they’ve changed that up over the years, but that’s how it’s scored,” said Chandler. In 2021, the Cat Island tree scored 739 points.
While impressive, West Feliciana’s celebrated cypress is far from the only big tree in the state. Louisiana boasts around 115 State Champion trees of various species, but at present, only the one National Champion—though that is about to change.
The Seven Sisters Live Oak in Mandeville was previously included on the National Champion list as recently as 2008, having last been measured by Chandler, but fell off when the Louisiana Forestry Association was unable to get in touch with owner of the land it stands on for re-measurement. At the end of April 2022, current State Forester for the National Resource Conservation Service (NRCS) and Champion Tree Chair Rick Williams was able to contact the owner and re-measure the oak.
“I had suspicions that it was probably the National Champion [live oak], because it hadn’t been measured in so long. I figured it had gotten a little bigger than the previous measurements,” Williams said. “And it has a little bit, it’s got a few more points than it did the last submission. And the last submission was enough to be the National Champion over the current one that’s in Georgia.” When Chandler last measured the live oak in 2008, it rang in at 570 points—Williams’ measurement in April clocks the tree in at 590 points.
Unlike Cat Island’s bald cypress, which requires a short hike at best and a strenuous paddle into a closed refuge at the flooding’s worst to view the Champion Tree, the Seven Sisters Live Oak is situated in a front yard and can be seen from the road at 200 Fountain Street. “The tree sits real nice,” mused Williams. “It kind of frames the whole front of the house.”
“We’re really excited about this one, because it is several points higher than the [live oak] that’s on record now in Georgia,” effused Zeringue. “And while we do have great friends in Georgia, we’re happy to take the title back hopefully when we get all this submitted this year.” Pending the Louisiana Forestry Association submission’s acceptance, the Seven Sisters Live Oak should hopefully reclaim its National Champion status when the list is released this June.
Those who suspect they may have a state, or even national champion tree on their property, can reach out to Zeringue at the State Forestry Association to inquire about setting up measuring. “You know, people are excited once they know their tree is a champion or a co-champion,” Williams said. “I will go out and visit with them and measure the tree, and a lot of times they’re with me when I measure and you know, they’re talking about the tree, and some of the trees have history in the family or whatever—that’s where they did their picnics under that tree, or they climbed it when they were kids—and so a lot of the trees have meanings to the family.”
The thing about very large, very old trees, is they are not only part of our landscapes, they become fixtures of our homes and families; over time containing memories and traditions beneath the shade of their branches. And perhaps—much like a wise older family member—they too should be honored for these contributions. Later this summer, when the Mississippi finally recedes, I think I’ll ask my dad to come with me out to Cat Island again to pay our respects to our hometown Champion.
For more information on whether Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge is open (it is roughly estimated that flooding will have receded enough to allow reopening in July of this year), or how to donate to or volunteer with the Friends of Cat Island, visit their Facebook page at facebook.com/FCINWR.
For more information on C. C. Lockwood’s photography or to purchase any of his books documenting the nature of the Gulf South, visit cclockwood.com.
For more information on State or National Champion Trees, or to submit your tree for potential measuring, visit laforestry.com.
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