It narrowly escaped destruction during an early 90s development project. Volunteers replanted it; annual spring flooding along the Rideau River flattened it; and now its neighbours—who live in the beaver lodge down the bank—happily feast on it.
Each of its five, massive trunks—which snake in all directions from its core—sends up enough sinewy limbs to seem as if this one tree is growing an entire forest, all on its own. One of those limbs is arched like a secret doorway. Several have large chunks chewed out of them. Others, toppled and hanging on by strips, still sprout viable branches rippling with leaves.