Ancient Rome and Greece are in full swing; the Mesapotamian Empire is drawing to a close. Man puts stylus to tablet for the first time on the American continent, producing the first Zapotec writing; the Hutu tribe emerges in Africa. In India the first republic is founded in Vaishali, Bishar; the symbol of Rome, the She-Wolf, is created.
And somewhere in the heart of a small wet island off the coast of Europe, long before the Romans arrive, someone plants the seed of a yew tree.
I say plants: how do you know, you ask me, that some bird did not drop a yew seed and by pure chance, the tree began to grow?
This tree seems far from the madding crowd, down a series of winding paths a stone’s throw from Magna Carta Lane, Wraysbury, close to the banks of the Thames. Yet a building stands very near it, though it is tumbledown and almost not there at all, surrendered to the crown in 1536 by a wise prioress at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries.
This is Ankerwycke Priory. Just for the record, there is evidence the last prioress went off and got married afterwards.But that’s another story.
According to sources high up in the Ancient Yew Group (check out the site here. Compulsive reading for anyone who loves ancient yews) yews were used in the eighth and ninth centuries for the inauguration of chieftains. And there’s plenty of chieftains near Windsor. This is the tree in whose shadow the Magna Carta was signed by King John in the presence of barons and bishops; this is the tree at which Henry VIII is said to have met – and indeed chased – Anne Boleyn.
They say that the proximity of the priory to the yew and Windsor, and ancient centre of royalty, indicates this has been a sacred site for a very long time. Longer by far, in probability, than the priory. It was an old site. A sacred site which existed for the old people, long before mine – the Normans – ever arrived in England.
Old yews are notoriously difficult to date. They get fat, just as many of us do, but unlike us, trees of any kind go hollow from the inside. Oaks, beeches, they’re all the same. But yews have a passport to immortality: they sucker, sending out branches which embed themselves in the nearby earth and become new, vital trunks. Same DNA, new body. If trees had a consciousness the yew would be the closest to immortal we’ve got.
If you are ever near the banks of the Thames, in Runnymede, take the drive skirting the M25 to Wraysbury, and the little road which runs to a set of ramshackle farm buildings, and the path which treks out across the fields to the Ankerwycke yew and its priory.
And touch a yew reported to be 2500 years old: a yew whose very sinews track the progress of kings.
Kate Shrewsday 
In Northern California we have several species of Redwood that are about the same age. When I have visited these ancient groves, I have wondered who else may have stood under the canopy of branches and limbs? What stories these trees could tell.
Indeed,Patrick, If only trees could talk.
Yews are not natural growing trees there? Didn’t know that. That tree is a wonder. What intriguing trees: origin mystery and their growth pattern. (Must check out the ancient tree group. Thanks for the link)
Hi Mouse: yews grow naturally here, but generally when we see one which has survived a long time, it is an intentionally planted one, and we get very excited about it. One of my favourites is the one at Waverley Abbey, Farnham – you can read about it here: https://kateshrewsday.com/2012/08/10/a-living-spectre-the-tree-of-life/. And the iron age fort I walk the dogs on every day has yews at two of the most important points, the east and south entrances. Who planted them and why is a mystery, but by their very placing it is clear that they did.
Kind of like our Treaty Oaks around here. Lots of history happens around trees. Seems to be a universal
Wonderful gallery and interesting reading.
We wish you a great Easter!
Best regards from the Four of us,
Dina, Klausbernd, Siri and Selma
Hi Dina! And a very happy Easter to you and the family. Thank you for coming along so often to read 🙂
How do yew know they don’t have a consciousness? It … (… = a week or so) just … operates … slower … than … ours. Yew-gely so.
Spoken like a true writer, Col. Maybe one day the yews of England will rise up and make themselves heard. But slowly.
A sort of slow-motion yew and cry?
Ha! Yew have it in one, Col.
It’s clear you enjoyed visiting this ancient Yew ~ it looks shady to me.
It is, and the day was nippy, Nancy. Shade is not an advantage at such a time….but the sunshine was dazzling. A far out of the way place, it was, but full of enchantment..
The word ‘Yews’ usually spelled ewes or yous is plural for the word ‘you’ in many parts of Australia, I kid yous not!
Fascinating story Kate, I’m fond of trees, don’t know much about them sorry to say, but admit to standing in awe under the Giant Sequoias in Yosemite NP some years ago, magnificent.
The great variety of trees I grew up with are the only thing I’ve ever missed living in Australia these last 64 years.
Unless you go to a Botanical Gardens oaks and elms and ash and beech are not to be seen, seems to be just gum trees, millions of them 🙂
Ah, but they provide shade from that glorious sunshine we don’t have, Brian. What I wouldn’t give for some of that right now!
Fascinating. Sometimes the old yews are cut down and stolen here for their medicinal qualities. Very sad.
It is! Considering it takes so long to grow them, Barb.
When I read your article it made me wonder if the fact that yews were used in the inauguration of chieftans, and the fact that yew wood was used to make good longbows were connected. The idea of a settlement having a planted yew then makes a lot of sense both politically and defensively.
That’s an excellent point, Raven: I’d love to try making a yew longbow with a fallen yew branch.
I have heard that if aged right, and balanced right as made, it is a fantastic bow to have. Harder to pull, but worth learning to and all.
I’ve seen the ancient California redwoods, but I’m new to these impressive yew trees. And yet, my favorite shot is the one with the wild hare.
Bunny, I think, Virginia. It stayed still for so long I thought it was tame: but showed its true colours by scarpering eventually. I think the Ankerwycke Yew is so far from everywhere wildlife is very at home there. I’m not sure, now the Magna Carta’s 800th anniversary approaches in June, that that will continue.
So impressive, Kate. I would love to touch the ancient bark and simply spend some time imagining the history these trees witnessed. Others have mentioned the California redwoods and there’s just something about trees that have withstood time. They do seem to talk to us. Thank you for this splendid tale. ox
I love ancient trees! I’m so glad Nancy Hatch sent me some links to your blog posts!
Have you read Meetings with Remarkable Trees by Thomas Pakenham? http://goo.gl/PvoKR1
I haven’t 🙂 One to put on my reading list! Thanks for coming along to read. I am well off for ancient trees here, on the edge of Windsor Forest.