The white pine of Minnesota recently lost its biggest champion, Jack Rajala, a third-generation Itasca County logger and forester.

Rajala lost a brief battle with brain cancer Aug. 2 at age 77.

Jack Rajala, Minnesota logger and forester

I had the opportunity to meet Rajala in May 2013 at a women’s media gathering held in Grand Rapids. Organizers of the event—women foresters and conservationists—wanted journalists to have background information on the state’s current logging and timber issues, and have the opportunity to meet sources involved in those industries. Rajala welcomed us and provided a brief history on the white pine in Minnesota and recent restoration efforts. As he talked, his passion for the woods was evident. He talked about his family’s involvement in logging, which stretched back to building a mill in Big Fork in 1902. He followed in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps over the decades in wood product businesses.

He also developed a love for white pine and its restoration consumed the last three decades-plus of his life.

The size and quantity of native white pine forests impressed people coming to Minnesota in the 1800s and no one gave thought to the possibility that one day stands could be depleted. Historians noted that when logging began, white pines were up to six feet in diameter and more than 150 feet tall. However, by the early 1930s, the white pine industry collapsed. The heavy logging in the late 19th and early 20th centuries had taken a toll.

Efforts to regenerate

Rajala acknowledged his family’s businesses in part relied on white pine, as well as other tree species, and he accepted the responsibility that came along with that taking. He fought an effort in the mid-1990s that pushed for a state-wide moratorium on cutting any white pine. Those who wanted to halt white pine harvest thought that it would save the remaining white pines.

“Those trees will all eventually succumb to natural enemies and the white pine will be essentially gone,” he wrote in his 1998 book, “Bringing Back the White Pine.” Instead, Rajala pushed for restoration—to bringing the white pine back.

The self-taught forester did more than his share of doing so, often at great cost of time and money. He told us back in 2013 that the first million white pine seedling he planted, he lost. Why? “We planted them in the wrong places and the deer killed them,” he said. By ‘wrong places,’ Rajala referred to planting were under too much crown and among sugar maples.

“Those were richer sites,” he recalled. “White pine needed sunlight and no competition from other vegetation.”

To circumvent the deer, he championed the practice of bud-capping, a management practice that involved stapling a small piece of paper around the terminal bud of each seedling to prevent deer from eating them. Those efforts, though heavily labor-intensive, proved to be successful.

“Bud capping is one of the most effective deterrents to deer,” he said. “Spray-on chemical washes off.”

While some thought restoring white pine required too much effort, Rajala begged to differ. He carefully observed and patiently learned what needed to be done to overcome those challenges. He developed management plans for white pine replanting and care. He helped develop white pines that would be resistant to blister rust.

Over the years, he also traveled and was active in various local, state and national timber and forest organizations. Still, he made time to reportedly plant more than 3.5 million white pine and 1.5 million red pine.

In recognition for his forestry efforts, last year Minnesota Power in Duluth announced the Rajala Woods Initiative, a $1.4 million effort to restore white pine and other conifer tree species through management practices. The goal is to plant up to 3 million white pine, red pine, jack pine and spruce seedlings over the next 10 years on 3,000 company-owned acres.

Ethic for conservation

Rajala’s commitment to restoring the white pine in the state reminds me of conservation and water quality efforts made by many farmers across Minnesota. Farmers who are learning about cover crops so open black fields are not swept by winter winds. Farmers who faithfully follow chemical application directions and apply only what is needed and when it is needed. Farmers who invest in soil and plant testing so they know exactly the right amount and right type of nutrient to apply for nourishing crops. Farmers who actively manage conservation practices and tweak them to improve effectiveness.

The payback for tenacious conservation and restoration is not immediate, as Rajala noted in his book on white pine silviculture. Farmers as well know this.

“Restoring significant amounts of white pine to the Minnesota landscape must be more than a debate about healthy ecosystems and natural environments,” he wrote. “It must be an ethic expressed in a commitment. It is not for the faint-hearted. But it can be done.”