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I had rarely felt such immense joy as I did the day, I came across a sapling of a truly historical tree — a living fossil that has endured for over 250 million years, outliving dinosaurs and entire geological eras.
A few years ago, I was visiting a central forest nursery in Srinagar, initially to check whether Taxus was being raised. Instead, I encountered a species rarely seen in Kashmir’s planted or natural landscapes. Until then, I had only come across references to a solitary specimen in the Lal Mandi campus and a few scattered individuals in public gardens. The saplings before me belonged to Ginkgo biloba, the maidenhair tree.
I procured two plants, planted them in containers at home, and have since raised a few more through vegetative propagation. What began as curiosity gradually turned into a more reflective engagement with the species — not just as a botanical rarity, but as something that sits slightly outside our usual ecological familiarity.
Ginkgo biloba occupies a unique position in plant evolution. It is the only surviving member of its lineage — the sole species in its genus, family, and order. It looks unlike most trees we see today: a gymnosperm with broad, fan-shaped leaves rather than the needle-like foliage typical of conifers. Fossil records show that relatives of Ginkgo once grew across much of the Northern Hemisphere. Over time, changing climates and shrinking habitats eliminated them, leaving behind this single surviving species.
Despite its global popularity as an ornamental and avenue tree, Ginkgo biloba is classified as ‘Endangered’ on the International Union for Conservation of Nature Red List. Its natural populations are believed to survive only in small pockets of China, and even these may not represent truly wild stands. In effect, the species persists today less through natural abundance and more through long-standing human cultivation and protection.
This highlights an important ecological distinction between persistence in the wild and persistence under human care. While Ginkgo is widely planted across the world, it plays only a limited role in natural ecosystems. It does not form part of forest communities, maintains few ecological interactions, and exists largely outside the networks of species with which it once co-evolved.
Its biology reflects this separation. Male and female structures occur on different trees, and successful reproduction depends on their proximity. In managed landscapes, however, male trees are often preferred to avoid the odorous seeds of females. This simplifies maintenance but further limits the possibility of natural regeneration, reinforcing its dependence on human cultivation.
In Kashmir, Ginkgo biloba is found only in planted settings — nurseries, institutional campuses, and a few gardens. It has adapted well to the local climate, yet there is no indication of it spreading independently or integrating into forest ecosystems. Within this context, it remains an introduced ornamental species, existing alongside but not within the ecological fabric of the region.
Even so, it holds a distinct value. As a relic of deep evolutionary time, Ginkgo offers a rare living link to ancient plant lineages. It is also remarkably resilient, tolerating pollution, pests, and urban stress, which has made it a favoured tree in cities worldwide. One of its most well-known demonstrations of endurance comes from Hiroshima, where several trees survived the atomic bombing and later regenerated from damaged tissues.
Yet its strengths lie in survival, not ecological integration. This distinction is important when considering its use in large-scale planting. Introducing species without ecological continuity can increase green cover but does not necessarily rebuild functioning ecosystems. In regions like the Himalaya, where ecological networks are already fragile, native species — shaped by local climate, soil, and interdependent life forms — remain foundational to meaningful restoration.
The story of Ginkgo biloba thus rests at the intersection of history and ecology. It is a species that has persisted not by dominance, but by endurance, and in recent centuries, through human attention and care. Its survival today is not merely a botanical fact, but a reminder of how deeply intertwined certain species become with human history once their ecological worlds have receded.
In Kashmir, its presence is modest and contained — confined to gardens, campuses, and nurseries. It does not shape forests, nor does it weave itself into the complex ecological fabric of the region. Yet its significance is not diminished by this distance. Instead, it invites a different kind of attention: not as a component of functioning ecosystems, but as a witness to time, change, and continuity.
As the young trees I planted continue to grow, they remain more than botanical curiosities. They stand as quiet reminders that the living world is layered — some species belong to landscapes, others to memory, and a few, like Ginkgo, seem to carry both without fully merging into either. In that quiet in-between lies its enduring presence.
Mir Faizan Anwar is a Range Officer with the J&K Forest Department and a wildlife enthusiast
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth
