Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans. We have all heard it. I believe it.

I am an aging arborist in Iowa. Like a lot of us seasoned “tree guys,” I have followed a familiar path. As I got older and less agile in the trees, I focused on selling. I found myself passionately telling clients things about their trees that others may not have had the knowledge or courage to tell them. It felt a lot like consulting to me. When they did not buy, it felt a lot like free consulting.

Pixabay / TCIA Graphic

I was also aware that the next, cheaper tree service that bid on that job could benefit from my free gift. They would offer the “same” service for less money, then deliver an inferior service. The customer would never know the difference. I didn’t like that.

As I got burned out on selling, I focused on actual consulting. Consulting felt just like selling, but without the sale. I was going to get paid whether they liked my opinions or not. It felt right. Six years ago, I sold the tree service and gradually became a full-time consultant. I now consult, teach and appraise. Life is good.

I soon found myself joining the American Society of Consulting Arborists (ASCA) and attending their Consulting Academy and Tree and Plant Appraisal Qualification (TPAQ) Certificate Program curriculum. My goal is to become an ASCA Registered Consulting Arborist (RCA) someday soon. I am halfway there. The advice from experienced mentors there has been priceless.

Slight turn
Early on in my consultancy, the phone did not ring much at all. That was a little scary. Then, when it did ring, the questions were sometimes about things I understood, and I was happy. Then I got the first call about cupping, coiling, distorted foliage on an oak tree. I tried to sound confident while I panicked. This was not the last call about herbicide damage to an oak, but the first of many. Now this has become my main gig. Who saw that coming? Certainly not me.

At the office
Fast forward to the present. The phone rings. I enthusiastically answer. The caller reports what they believe is herbicide damage to their beloved oak trees. I grab pen and paper and start taking notes. They then go into great detail about the character and intent of the S.O.B. who did it. I usually caution the caller at that point that it is best I know very little about the prime suspect if I am to remain objective. I work for the trees and the truth. Just the facts, ma’am.

Once I have collected as much information as I can over the phone, I tell them that trees usually have value and that it sounds like maybe their trees have less value as a result of some event. I often suggest an on-site consultation to see what next steps, up to and including appraisal, are appropriate. I quote them my fees for the mentioned services, and the caller gets very quiet. After a little small talk and backpedaling, the conversation usually ends awkwardly. I put my scribbled notes into a folder I call the “On Deck” folder.

The phone rings again a few weeks later. My potential client and I are now on a first-name basis. I quickly retrieve my illegible notes from the “On Deck” file, fumble for my reading glasses and squint at the scribbles while pretending to remember my new old friend. My prospective client tells me about the arborists and attorneys with whom they have spoken in their search for loopholes and a better deal. “Do you know so and so?” they ask.

Sometimes I do. I scribble down a few more notes. I remind them of the possible next steps and fees associated with them. Mostly, I explain that there are a lot of unknowns that are likely to remain unknowns during the phone call, but that might turn into knowns during or after an on-site visit. Sometimes we schedule an on-site visit at this time. Otherwise, sometimes…

The phone rings again a few weeks later. Resigned to the fact that a better deal is not to be had, my old friend has called to reluctantly schedule a site visit. I like to establish at that time exactly who I am working for. Sure, I work for the trees and the truth, but they don’t write checks. Who is my client? Are you sure? Surprisingly, sometimes this is not an easy question to answer, but it is an important one. Sometimes we establish this, and then I send a contract for signature. Otherwise, sometimes…

The phone rings again a few weeks later. My old friend wants me to meet their new friend – the attorney, or their insurance agent, or… Once we get it all sorted out, somebody might sign the contract – and we might schedule a site visit.

Cupping, coiling and distorted foliage are typical signs of herbicide damage on an oak tree. All photos courtesy of the author.

The site visit
I live in a rural area surrounded by agricultural row crops. I grab my intellectual tree-guy stuff and jump in the truck. On the way out of my lane, I drive past my own herbicide-
damaged oak trees to assist a stranger… er, uh… old friend with theirs. I enjoy the solitude of an early morning on the road. Often the trip is scenic.

When I arrive on site, sometimes I have to remind my friends, old and new, that it is probably still best that I not know any more about the suspected herbicide mis-applicator than necessary to conduct my investigation. “Fair enough,” they say, then continue bad-mouthing the S.O.B. Sometimes they just cannot help it. I get it.

Then I look at formerly stately oak (Quercus spp.) trees looking very undignified. Often there are silver maples (Acer saccharinum) looking all smug and unfazed nearby. It ain’t right. Are the oaks overreacting? They often show herbicide-contact symptoms when other species very close to them don’t.

I try to collect as much helpful information and data as possible while conversing with my client(s). I am easily distracted. Later, while I am measuring diameter at breast height (DBH, or the trendy new diameter at standard height, or DSH) and trying to make accurate notes on a piece of paper flapping in the wind on my clipboard, I run out of hands. Invariably my pen gets clenched in my teeth, making it difficult to speak intelligibly. At this point, the client, who is simultaneously helpful and a distraction, will sometimes offer to make my notes for me.

Sometimes herbicide damage looks obvious to me. Sometimes it does not. The only way to be certain it is truly herbicide damage is to collect a foliar sample for laboratory testing. I usually bag these up in my trusty Ziploc baggies.

It is important to “stay in my lane” and not posit on areas I have no expertise in. It is not for me to say this is definitely herbicide damage, even when I am confident it is. It is absolutely not for me to say this is definitely herbicide damage, it came from over there and that guy did it. It is for me to confirm that, “in my professional opinion,” this foliage looks like it may have been exposed to herbicide, and later, only after lab confirmation, state that one or more specific herbicides are present in said foliage.

In my experience, the site visit usually takes longer than I think it will, and longer than it probably should. I usually find myself exhausted physically and mentally and a little anxious as I pull away from the site in the dark. What did I forget, besides lunch? There’s usually equal parts comfort and uncertainty during the solitude of the long drive home. I mentally start preparing my report while eating something greasy from a sack passed by a kid through a window. Shame.

Back at the office
As soon as is feasible and appropriate, I mail the foliar samples to my trusted lab and wait.

Then there’s the report. Report writing is a strange mix of art, science and opinion. I am forming an appraisal opinion. How do I form a defensible opinion? I consider myself a decent writer. I can spell many words. Once I get back to the office, I often think to myself, “This report is not going to be that hard.” I am almost always wrong. I am very hard on myself.

We are admonished by some of our ASCA colleagues to assume that every case is going to go to litigation. In my professional opinion, the tool my client wants if the case goes to court is a booklet report. ASCA has very exacting standards. I strive to achieve these standards in the hope that my client’s claims will be seen as credible in court if needed. A proper booklet report is expected to include:

• Front cover
• Title page
• Copyright
• Table of contents
• Summary
• Introduction
• Observations
• Testing & analysis
• Discussion
• Conclusions
• Recommendations
• Glossary
• Bibliography
• Supporting materials (if appropriate)
• Back cover

… and a bunch of other parts added to some of those parts that are beyond the scope of this article. It is truly a book(let). Mine have exceeded 100 pages several times – all content, no filler, I swear.

Once I get back to the office, I often think to myself, “This report is not going to be that hard.” I am almost always wrong.

I take great pains for my reports to be impartial, thorough and defensible. Oh… and defensible. Did I mention defensible? Lots of my professional opinions and precise measurements are funneled through formulas associated with a chosen “Approach, Method, and Technique” from the Council of Tree and Landscape Appraisers’ (CTLA) “Guide for Plant Appraisal.” There are several combinations of these that an appraiser carefully assembles.

The chosen combination is ultimately driven by the appraiser’s intellect, discretion and reading of the assignment. Lots of moving parts. I show my work. I explain why I chose the specific combination of Approach, Method, and Technique that I chose, in agonizing detail. All calculations are shown. I do this as much for me as for the readers (see defensible, above).

I am sometimes surprised and disappointed by the final numbers. Sometimes my clients are, too. I remind myself I am not really working for any person, but the trees and the truth. Both of them are what they are, not what I want them to be.

We are advised by many of our colleagues that we are to remain impartial, that we don’t have a dog in the fight. This is difficult. Who will be writing me a check? The plaintiff or the defense? The accuser or the accused? Did they both call? Who called first? Who signed the contract? Do I believe this person? Do I like this person? We are human. Can we truly be neutral?

I know what particle drift and volatilization are. I even understand temperature inversion, as much as an arborist should. I understand weather’s influence on these things. Historical weather data is often part of my investigation. It helps me understand how herbicide may have moved off-target and from where. I am very cautious as to how, or even if, these things are presented in my reports. I have opinions, but no expertise in weather or chemistry.

I am always eager to read the lab results when they show up in my inbox. I have a lab that I work with exclusively because I trust them. To date, every time I have submitted a sample to this lab, they have confirmed the suspected herbicide (and sometimes a few others). This is not because I am smart or a master diagnostician. It is because my clients sometimes know what herbicide was applied near their trees. If they don’t know, we find out. It is a good starting point.

I tell the lab what herbicide I suspect might be present in the foliage. They do not test for every herbicide on the planet for one low price. When the phone started ringing a few years ago about cupping, coiling, distorted foliage, the clients rarely suspected herbicide damage. Now they often do. Sometimes they also know what was sprayed, where, when and the weather conditions that day. Sadly, I think this is because it happens a lot. It used to be rare or rarely noticed. Not anymore.

I take comfort in the lab as a trusted source of authoritative proof. I suspect. They confirm. They back up their findings with an official Certificate of Analysis with unreadable signatures and the letters “Ph.D.” after their names. This allows me to provide solid proof that a specific herbicide is present in the submitted foliage. It does not prove how it got there or who did it.

I make every effort not to foster or foment an adversarial relationship between the person who may have caused herbicide to damage another person’s trees and the person who owns the trees. I am an optimist. I like to believe we all share the same two goals simultaneously: bumper crops and healthy trees. We can have both. When the label is followed, herbicides tend to stay where they are applied and not move off target and get into trouble. Accidents happen.

Are herbicide-damaged trees going to die? The answer often is, “It depends.”

What’s the harm?
Are herbicide-damaged trees going to die? I have asked this question of many knowledgeable peers many times. The answer often is, “It depends.” In my experience, trees usually survive herbicide exposure. By the time I get the call and arrive on site, the trees often seem to be recovering or even recovered. This is very frustrating. If the trees just died instantly, we would probably have already fixed this problem years ago. They do not. Instead, the trees look pretty normal the following year and we forget there was ever a problem – until it happens again.

What is unknown is how much unseen damage was done to the roots, and whether the life of this tree was shortened. As we know, trees are frugal investors. They store reserves to help them survive when times are tough. Trees can often “fake it” until they fail. We often speak of the “magic” number five. Trees often succumb to fatal injuries five years or longer after those assaults were inflicted. Think root severing.

There is a disconnect. We often don’t associate an acute death today to something that happened five years ago. People move, die, forget. That “acute” tree death may actually have been a chronic, incremental death that nobody noticed creeping in over the last five years. Those poor ants will conveniently get the blame again because they have the audacity to be present. They may opportunistically exploit dying trees, but they do not kill them. We are to avoid blaming a present, secondary threat for the work of a long-absent, primary threat. I suspect herbicide may predispose a tree to a slow spiral of decline.

So, if I collected, tested and got lab confirmation that herbicide residue was present in distorted foliage from a tree last June, and am looking at a healthy, normal-looking tree with robust twig elongation today, was that tree harmed by that herbicide exposure? If so, how much? People a lot smarter than me struggle to answer these questions. It is my assertion that these trees are harmed.

It is my professional opinion that (most) trees have value before they are damaged by herbicide, they have an obvious lower value just after this damage and in the future they will have a less obvious but still lower value than they were going to have if they had not been damaged.

That oak that overreacted many years ago may look good today, but how was it going to look if it had never been damaged? When that same oak dies some day, was it the day it would have died if it had never been exposed to herbicide? It is sometimes said that you can’t prove a negative. Prove it.

Wrapping up
When I have proofread it too many times, I may decide my report is finally finished. How much time do I bill the human client? How much time did I actually spend?

I read a great article entitled “Road to Consultanthood, Part 5: Easing on Down,” written by Howard Gaffin, in the pages of TCI Magazine in October of 2023. Gaffin reflected on his transition to consulting. One refreshingly honest point in that article was, “Early attempts at report writing proved to be incredibly time consuming. Actual time spent on those projects resulted in fees I could not reasonably charge.” Amen!

I know I can stand behind my appraisal opinions. I still spend a long time scrutinizing my reports to ensure they clearly communicate the logic and discipline that led me to those opinions. I’ve heard several other ASCA colleagues credited with a line something like, “After 20 years or so, I might start to get the hang of this,” referring to report writing. I’m counting on that.

Conclusion
I provide an honest appraisal report. It is a tool for my client and/or their legal counsel to use for whatever purpose they choose. That purpose is none of my business.

If a case goes to court, we are not necessarily supposed to know or care about the outcome. We cannot win or lose. Our human client can, though.

Scott Carlson, ISA Board Certified Master Arborist (BCMA), is owner/operator – as well as lead instructor, appraiser and consultant – of Scott Carlson Consulting & Appraisal LLC, a seven-year TCIA member company based in Eldridge, Iowa. He is a two-term past president of the Iowa Arborist Association (IAA). Carlson has been preparing individuals to pass the ISA Certified Arborist exam for more than 20 years, teaches a BCMA prep course and offers live, virtual, interactive classes year-round.