After receiving my first pocket knife at age eight, I wasted no time in launching my career as a sculptor. How hard could it be, I thought, as I gathered 2x4 scrap-ends from behind the garage. To warm up before producing my masterpiece, which I figured would be done by supper, I set about to carve a fish.

I had just graduated from Dad’s rigorous Sharp Object Safety Course (“Always cut away from yourself. OK, have fun.”), and was careful with the blade. However, I soon learned that knotty, kiln-dried softwood lumber was anything but soft, and my hand soon blistered and bled. As the blisters healed, I lowered my sights from being a master sculptor to whittling sticks into shavings for no good reason, a skill to which I remain well-suited.

It’s no surprise I tried carving a fish. I was familiar with perch, bullhead and bass. If only I’d known back then about our native basswood (Tilia americana), or Tilleul d’Amérique in French, which is highly sought-after by woodworkers. Not only is its wood light and soft, it’s consistent across the grain – there are no “bumps” as your blade crosses annual rings. Another plus is that basswood resists checking, or cracking, as it dries.

Sadly, basswood is often ignored by forest owners – or worse, scorned for its low quality as a fuel wood (about 17 million BTUs /cord, compared to 30 mBTUs /cord for beech) and its poor commercial value, with stumpage prices typically a third of premium hardwood rates. However, basswood plays an essential role in the health of forest ecosystems, and has great cultural and historical significance as well. In addition, it’s an all-around fascinating species that can be used for things like medicine, musical instruments, and making fire by friction – a kind of Swiss army knife of the forest.

Basswood is a medium- to fast-growing tree that prefers deep, highly productive soils. In fact, because of its high nutrient requirements, it is a reliable indicator of rich sites. In such locations, it attains heights of 24-27 metres. Working as an arborist years ago in the eastern Adirondack Mountains of New York State, I encountered one that stood at least that tall, and measured 143 centimetres in diameter at breast height. That pales in comparison to the current record-holder, a 32-metre-tall giant down in Kentucky that’s said to be 223 cm across at the base. Basswood can live as long as 200 years, though older specimens are often in poor shape. The species does not compartmentalize well, and thus is prone to internal decay.

Basswood’s broad, heart-shaped leaves are uneven at the base, with coarsely serrated margins. The reddish, rounded buds are distinctive, having just two scales each, one considerably larger than the other that seems to me like it’s clasping its smaller partner. Groups of 6-20 flowers, borne on pendulous cymes, range from cream to pale yellow. They bloom in mid- to late June, and the resultant fruits are small, round nutlets that are eaten by numerous birds and rodents.

It’s worth noting that basswood flowers are pretty special. Not only are they an important nectar source for native pollinators, but their perfume is intoxicating in both a literal and figurative sense. I’ve walked down a residential block lined with European lindens, a popular street tree closely related to basswood, during peak bloom when the air was fragrant with tilia blossoms. At the time, bees of all stripes were bumbling from one flower cluster to another in what seemed like a drunken fashion. I later learned that the bees were truly buzzed, as tilia flowers are soporific.

The flowers are harvested both casually and commercially for herbal teas and sleep-aid and relaxation supplements. Next time you’re in a natural-foods store, check the labels of such products for tilia or “lime” blossom. Basswood honey is a specialty product that often sells for up to 50% more than mixed-source honey, but I have no idea if it has a calming effect.

One reason basswood can be overlooked by managers is that older specimens can develop internal

decay and cavities that render them unsaleable. But these very trees provide key habitat for more than 30 species of cavity-nesting birds. Many such bird species help keep forest-pest populations in check. Large cavities may be utilized by raccoons and porcupines (though not at the same time, I’d guess).

As my friend Mark Whitmore, a Cornell University Forest Entomologist, pointed out to me, basswood “doesn’t really have any meaningful insect pests that outbreak and wreak havoc, just the delicate Basswood lacebug, Gargaphia tiliae, and the Basswood leafminer, Baliosus ruber, a chrysomelid beetle similar to the Locust leafminer, Odontota dorsalis, which is far more damaging.” And neither does basswood have any serious disease problems.

Along with plant species like sugar maple, maidenhair fern, and black cohosh, basswood is a known associate of American ginseng. If you’re looking for wild ’seng, or want to start a patch of forest-grown ginseng, basswood is your friend. Basswood is also good at gleaning calcium and magnesium from the soil profile, and the leaves it sheds each fall are rich in these elements, compared to leaves from other species.

Like maples, basswood also has a spring sap run. The sap is low in sugar, and is not economical to make syrup from (except as a fun backyard project), but it makes a refreshing drink.

The wood, which was once the material of choice for making prosthetic limbs, is today often destined for pulp, although large, sound logs sometimes make it to the veneer market. A carpenter friend of mine, who mills his own lumber, makes beautiful custom cabinets and interior paneling from basswood. The wood is known for its light colour, which has earned it the nickname “bois blanc” in French. Another tidbit I recently learned is that double-basses are sometimes made of basswood.

For centuries, the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) have carved their sacred False-Face masks used in certain healing ceremonies from basswood. And a Kanien’keha:ka (Mohawk) friend of mine from near Canajoharie, New York down on the Mohawk River carries on an ancient tradition by making water-drums out of basswood as well.

While it’s an obscure claim to fame, basswood is one of the best materials for making fire by friction. I like it better than cedar, poplar, or any other material I’ve tried. This is not as difficult as it sounds, and requires patience, but no particular skill. With a bit of practice, one can start a fire in a minute or two with a bow-drill and a dry basswood spindle and fire-board. It’s a fun way to help kids connect with nature. There are lots of online videos on this technique if you’re curious.

Also entertaining to kids, and probably more useful overall, is the fact that basswood’s inner bark is perhaps the strongest plant-based fibre in North America. This is actually where basswood gets its name, from the rope, or “bast,” that First Nations peoples taught early colonists to make from its bark.

The bark peels readily in spring and early summer. If you soak it for 7-10 days, the inner bark will separate from the corky outer material (which gets mucilaginous after being soaked a while), in thin flexible strips. These can be braided and/ or reverse-wrapped into rope and twine. Once you learn to reverse-wrap you can do it while otherwise engaged, much like knitting. I’ve made basswood ropes over 30 metres long, and it never felt like work.

I haven’t taken a stab, so to speak, at carving in some time. If I do, it will certainly be basswood.