A Tree Bleeds in Brooklyn

On First Street, between Fifth and Sixth avenues, a brown blood-like liquid drips down from a tall tree.  

"It looks like a murder scene," said Molly Robinson, who has lived in a brownstone near the sap-leaking London planetree, a type of sycamore, for 33 years. "When I first saw it I thought someone got raped. It was very, very disturbing."  

The tree, with camouflage-patterned bark, stands in a pit on the sidewalk, hangs over the street and drips its sticky, noisome reddish-brown sap on cars. The sap has an uncanny resemblance to blood and when it falls from the trunk and branches the result looks like a blood splatter pattern from a crime scene.  

But this splatter is not a job for a forensic scientist, but rather for an arborist. The “bleeding” is called slime flux and it leaks from a wound or crack in the tree due to a bacteria or fungi that has invaded the inside of the wood. The bacteria attracts microorganisms that live in the sap and produce gas. The pressure from the gas eventually forces the slime flux, which is toxic to the bark, to ooze out of the tree’s cracks or wounds. This disease, which is also referred to as wetwood, has no known cure.  

But in 1976, the tree stood tall and healthy in front of the brownstone Glenn Abel, a 63-year-old artist, bought that same year. Abel said there are only three other First Street residents who have owned their home longer than he has. He considers himself a pioneer of the neighborhood and he remembers how Fifth Avenue was plagued with "drug wars and gun battles" back then. 

But now, 35 years later, according to Abel, the Avenue has been transformed into "yuppie heaven" and the biggest problem on a Saturday is trying to find a parking spot. And now, that same tree is old and has been constantly leaking odiferous sap, like a toxic faucet, for months. The leak leaves disturbing and hard-to-remove stains on cars that find a spot beneath its shade.  

Although Abel parks his ride in a garage, he wanted to be a good neighbor and post a sign on the tree to caution drivers:  

WARNING

Tree is leaking sap

Park at your own risk.  

“It’s hard enough to find a parking spot in Park Slope, but no one should park here,” Abel said while pointing to the sap splattered on the hood of an unfortunate minivan. “If I had to find a parking spot or die, I wouldn’t park here to save my life.”  

Abel explained that he has seen the sap ruin many paint jobs and he believes that the brown liquid “seems to have a corrosive quality” to it. He posted the sign as a neighborly gesture, a warning from one driver to another.  

“I thought this sign would help people who are not indigenous to Park Slope and don’t know about the sap,” Abel said. “I figured I’d put the sign up and save someone some grief.”  

But people park there anyway. And everyday the blood-ish globs drip on the car below.   

However, the sign was not the first action Abel took to stop the sap faucet. A couple of months ago, Abel noticed that the brown goo was oozing out of a low-hanging, rotting branch. He cut it off in hopes to stop the leak and to ensure that the branch would not fall on top of a car with the next gust of wind.

But the sap found another way of egress.  

A month after he removed the rotting limb, Hurricane Irene’s tropical winds tore down a large branch from the next tree over from the sycamore, crushing the iron gate belonging to Abel’s neighbor.

After the storm he called 3-1-1 to get an official to inspect both trees and make sure they weren’t in danger of falling. But no inspection ever happened, Abel said.  

“I’d hate to have it cut down, but my fear is that the sap is a sign of disease and the bleeding may compromise its structure,” Abel said as he looked up the tan, cream and brown colored bark, also streaked with sap. “The whole thing could come down on a parked car, or even worse a moving car. But one less tree is not good for the neighborhood either.”  

However dangerous and disgusting and disturbing this tree may be, Abel finds ways to make light of the bleeding wood.  

“It’s a horrendous smell. If I were a drunkard I wouldn’t have to worry about finding my house at night,” Abel said as he laughed. “I could just smell my way home.”