There are sixteen slabs of wood drying in Dan Malone’s garage on Strawberry Lane.
They’re all that’s left of a 250 to 300-year-old oak that stood on his property line until the city of Shorewood decided it needed to come down. Not because it was sick. Not because it was dangerous. Because it was in the way, and moving around it would have taken more effort than removing it.
“I would rather have it standing still,” Dan says.
What He Was Told
When Shorewood began planning the Strawberry Lane road reconstruction, Dan was told the project would require relocating power lines, which meant some trees near the property line would need to come out. He understood that. What he didn’t understand was why the oak had to be one of them.
The tree was massive and healthy. Its branches had been trimmed around the power lines for decades–there was already a gap. It wasn’t in the road and it wasn’t a hazard. By every measure that should matter, it had earned its place.
So Dan pushed back. He asked questions and he made the case. The city engineer–a reassuring, reasonable presence who showed up at his door and told him everything he wanted to hear–agreed.
Yes, it’s a great tree. Yes, we’ll look into it. Yes, this makes sense.
What Dan didn’t know was that this engineer was also a contractor from Bolton & Menk, the firm the city hires to manage infrastructure projects. His job was to keep the project moving. And the project needed that tree gone.
By the time Dan understood what was happening, the crews were already scheduled. “They basically pushed me down to the wire where I couldn’t do anything,” he says.
What Was Lost
The 250-year-old oak came down.
And with it went something Dan hadn’t fully calculated until it was gone: the shade that covered the east face of his house for the first six to eight hours of every day.
The following summer, his air conditioner failed. A new system cost him a lot. Whether the two things are directly connected is impossible to prove. But a 250-year-old tree does a lot of quiet work, cooling, filtering, sheltering, and when it’s gone, it’s noticeable.
He kept the wood. Fought for that much. Got some chainsaw carvings made. He has some remaining oak slabs drying and waiting to become something–furniture, maybe, or something he can sell.
“You don’t plant trees for your own benefit. You plant them for the future. It’s a long play.” – Dan Malone
Dan has planted a lot of trees himself. He’s a natural resources graduate. He cares about the land. He’s not, as he puts it, the biggest tree hugger. He just didn’t want to cut down a massive, very old, and healthy tree in his yard.
And they cut it down anyway.
What Does It Mean?
Dan’s story is not unique. Across Shorewood and other cities because of road projects and utility corridors and development easements, old trees are being removed not because they must be, but because the process doesn’t require anyone to stop and ask whether they should be.
There is no formal mechanism in Shorewood that says: “This tree is significant, and you have to prove it cannot be saved before you cut it down.”
Other cities have those mechanisms. Wayzata has it. Edina has it. Minnetonka has been committed to tree protections for over thirty years. They might be called heritage trees: trees designated for their age, size, or historical significance, protected by ordinance, requiring formal process and documented justification before removal.
Shorewood has the authority to do the same thing. Chapter 1103 of the city code already exists. Section 1103.02 already gives the council power to pass resolutions protecting significant trees. It just hasn’t been used that way yet.
If it had existed three years ago, Dan might still have his oak tree.
What’s next?
There is currently an effort underway in Shorewood to change that, to give old trees a fighting chance before the crews show up. It’s not about halting development, but educating ourselves and recognizing the priceless value of heritage trees like Dan’s. If that oak were anything else, it would be in a museum. I’ve written that line before.
Not to mention the quiet but massive effect mature trees have on the local ecosystem. Feel bummed when a species goes extinct? This is what contributes to it. When there aren’t enough native, mature trees, we lose mycelium, insects, birds, and the chain collapses. That’s what we’re living through right now. Entire ecosystems displaced.
For example, thirty years ago there were pheasants in my neighborhood daily. I haven’t seen one in over a decade. It’s slow, but it’s real decline.
And we can do something about it. Maybe it seems small, but there are dozens of gorgeous and notable trees all over Shorewood that would heartily agree.
If you’d like to support the effort to establish a heritage tree program in Shorewood, or learn more about the eastern white pine on Eureka North contact: natalie@jennings.photo
More reading:
Our Rare Witness Tree, SCA, June 2026
