On 1/14/2026 8:21 AM, 'Candice Vetter' via NatureList wrote:
> We have a few honey locusts and they make pods, but I would not describe
> them as invasive. They don't seem to have huge reproductive success, but
> I may try the pods next year if we get some.
> On 2026-01-13 11:46, Matt Keevil wrote:
>
>> Our household Honey Locusts never fruit and I have not kept track of
>> the annual patterns.
* here's what I sent to the Times (Aleta can reduce the megapixelality
of the photos and send them to the list):
Mast Years for Missing Mastodons
Fred Schueler – Fragile Inheritance Natural History
Honey Locusts are named from the sweet goo around the seeds inside the
pods (which is still sweet and pear-flavoured in January), and the
specific epithet of their scientific name (Gleditsia triacanthos)
references the three-pointed spines that cover the trunk and lower
branches (the generic name is from a director of a German botanical
garden).
The Honey Locusts that the Browns planted in front of their new house,
on the Buker Road spur of the Bishops Mills intersection, back in the
1990s, have had spectacularly biennial seed production, though other
trees may produce fewer pods, or none at all. This year's massive crop
of foot-long pods has come down around trees still mulched by the pods
from 2023, but there were only about 6 pods produced in 2024. We first
noted the pods in our doing-the-streets surveys in 2004, and recorded
big crops in 2008, 2012, 2016, 2018, 2019, 2021, 2023, and 2025, with
sparse production in 2009, 2011, 2013, 2015, 2017, 2020, 2022, & 2024.
These alternations are called “mast cycles” (from the Old English “mæst”
– the nuts of forest trees accumulated on the ground) and they are
thought to keep seed predators from building up big populations or to
reflect climatic differences among years.
Honey Locusts are a species-at-risk in southwestern Ontario, but in
eastern Ontario we only see thornless cultivars, which are widely
planted far beyond their native range. They are considered an invasive
species around the globe, suggesting better sexual reproduction than we
see in Bishops Mills, where, despite mast years covering the street with
seeds from driven-over pods, or on rainy days with foam from crushed
seeds, we have never seen any seedlings.
This inspired two thoughts: 1) the local Turkeys are ghastly slackers to
let all these seeds go to waste because they were too shy to come into
the village, and 2) these pods must be intended for consumption by
Mastodons or other extinct megafauna.
A quick google turns up that "The large, sweet pods of honey locust are
considered 'evolutionary anachronisms,' meaning they evolved for
dispersers that no longer exist... [and] Mastodon remains have shown
honey locust pod remnants and seeds in their preserved stomach contents
and dung, confirming they consumed them."
Before the end of the last glacial period, when human hunters arrived,
North America was dominated by a fauna of giant mammals: Mastodons,
Mammoths, Ground Sloths, ancestral Camels and Horses, Beavers the size
of Bears, and their size-appropriate predators. It’s thought that the
spiny trunks of wild-type Honey Locust served to protect the trees from
browsing, just as the seeds were adapted to germinate only after passage
through elephantine guts, and that various otherwise anomalous features
of many surviving tree species were adaptations for dispersal and
against browsing by megafauna which are no longer present.
This means that when we see the canopy of a Honey Locust black with
giant pods we should be reminded of the mass extinction we precipitated
as we spread around the globe, that global warming has allowed Honey
Locusts to be planted north of their pre-settlement range, and that we
should be doing all we can to sustain and enhance the diversity and
integrity of global ecosystems.
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