Need a professional to remove a huge poison ivy vine (moving, transport)
Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill, CaryThe Triangle Area
Please register to participate in our discussions with 2 million other members - it's free and quick! Some forums can only be seen by registered members. After you create your account, you'll be able to customize options and access all our 15,000 new posts/day with fewer ads.
I have had very good luck stifling growth by killing the stumps and using the stump killer linked above. I drench the stump multiple times over a few days.
But, yes, Roundup is entirely the wrong chemical for the job, for stump killing or poison ivy killing. Note that neither stump killing nor poison ivy killing is a labeled use of the product.
The North Carolina Botanical Gardens disagrees with you. They use and recommend concentrated glyphosate for painting stumps of cut poison ivy and other climbing vines (i did not get to make my annual wisteria rant this year).
The North Carolina Botanical Gardens disagrees with you. They use and recommend concentrated glyphosate for painting stumps of cut poison ivy and other climbing vines (i did not get to make my annual wisteria rant this year).
Or, the Bayer Advanced Brush Killer Plus linked above:
Hazardous Component Name and Concentration % by weight
Triclopyr, triethylamine salt 8.80
Ethanol 9.97
I expect that the Triclopyr does the heavy lifting with ethanol as a volatile component to dry the salts or to carry them through the waxy poison leaves.
"RoundUp and similar herbicides with the active ingredient glyphosate can be used to control perennial weeds and invasive plants. These nonselective systemic herbicides can be sprayed on the foliage of weeds, or a concentrated form is painted on the freshly cut stems of woody plants. They work best on perennial weeds that are actively growing and not stressed by drought or other factors. The cut-and-paint method works best in late summer and fall, when the plant is concentrating energy reserves in its roots.
The long-term effects of herbicides on human health and the environment are unknown. RoundUp herbicide contains a surfactant that helps the spray stick better to whatever it contacts. Some tests have indicated that the surfactant in RoundUp may pose more hazards than glyphosate."
It would be wise of NCBG to clearly identify the specific herbicide appropriate for painting stems or stumps.
So, selecting the proper product is important and avoiding off-label application is all important.
Sorry you missed your annual wisteria rant. Whatever it is, I suspect I support it fully.
Last edited by MikeJaquish; 05-10-2019 at 08:52 AM..
Several years ago I found this piece on the Net, written by J. Clark. Ordinarily I would post only a URL but it seems to be gone. Possibly eaten by The Internet Troll. Possibly strangled by a wisteria vine.
Anyway, here is the full text. Suggest you read it aloud using your Southern accent or a reasonable facsimile. Enjoy!
Quote:
Wisteria Blue
Last night the wisteria in my back yard sent a runner after me. It slid
through a gap in the window screen. When I woke up it had wrapped
itself around my arm and its tip was waving all curly at the end of my
nose, like it was gonna suck out my brain.
Oh yeah. I'm not kidding.
I know you think wisteria's pretty, those clumps of blue flowers hanging
down every spring.
That's just what wisteria wants. It has plans.
It wants you to think it's pretty so you won't eradicate it. Won't
practice herbicide. Just leave me be, it says, and ain't I pretty?
While all along them runners are knotting themselves into your
shoelaces. You not looking. All mesmerized.
Oh man, I got the wisteria hysteria. The weary mysteria. Wisteria
gonna come live in my house.
You want to grow some in your front yard, don't you? You think you can
keep it under control. You think wisteria looks so nice and tame when
somebody's been tending it. Innocent. Kind of moody, with those long
trailing clusters of blossoms that look like they'll taste grape if you
eat 'em. A milder Bacchus. Baptist-church communion wine. I can see
you thinking that. I've seen your house, the manicured lawn and the
floral arsenal in your garage, like tanks waiting on the outskirts of
Beijing.
The chemical weapons. The smart-mowers. The weed-eating secret police.
You think you can handle wisteria.
Wisteria gonna like you.
You'll have a pretty plant all upstanding and blossomy. Safely isolated
in the middle of your lawn. Exiled to Wisteria Siberia -- the thin
limbs droopy like a baby willow. But you'll be wondering about them
thick, blunt-ended stubs that keep growing new heads, like Hydra. You'll
have to conduct frequent purges. Then one day that wisteria will rise
up like an oppressed people and you'll just be another Romanov. A
suburban Mussolini. You'll be passing by that wisteria-bush, all smug
and happy, and your lawnmower'll get hung up in one of those pasty green
runners that's been snaking its way out through the grass roots toward a
big juicy oak tree, sending up a tiny leaf now and then like a periscope.
Maybe the lawnmower will flip over and chew on you some.
Maybe just a little bit.
Like Thoreau and Walt Whitman and Jim Jones and Ho Chi Minh, I thought
the woods might hold the peace I was looking for. So I quit doing yard
work. I encouraged wild things to grow. At first they were stunned and
hesitant at the invitation, embarrassed like a shabby man invited to a
cocktail party. All of them, that is, except wisteria.
It made a beeline for the house. It was halfway up the wall in two days.
Sometimes I'd sit real still and watch it, waiting to see if it would
move. I think it could tell I was there, and was sizing me up. I don't
know how. It can't be doing a whole lot of thinking.
Wisteria in the wild has no backbone, or maybe it's just lazy. Maybe it
had a bad upbringing. It resents having to drag itself around on the
forest floor in the shade of the fatcat trees hogging the sunlight
overhead. It humps around awkward, a sloth on a ground-trek.
A wisterium megatherium. Bordering on delirium.
The big trees have no sympathy for the struggles on the forest floor;
they are the corporate giants. The sweetgums manufacturing spiky bombs.
The towering longleaf pines all sharp needles and spiny cones, like pain
and sleepy feet. The big trees tilt and talk only at the upper reaches,
where the sunshine pours into their hungry leaves like warm honey. They
become a little tipsy from all this ambrosia, and they get to
philosophizing among themselves. They talk of ethics and policy. They
drop rotten limbs with an offhand "Heads up!" And all the while
wisteria is climbing a spiral staircase around their trunks that are
grey as elephant hide.
I'm leery of wisteria. I think it come from Nigeria. Or maybe Iberia.
But it ain't the stuff that swallowed that fella in the Stephen King
book. It ain't The Colour Out Of Space. It ain't from outer space.
It's worse than that, I think:
Ain't no earthbound, H.G. Wells virus gonna set in and save us. No
wisteria bacteria.
I think wisteria been here a long time. Longer than folks. I think
wisteria had a lot of time to practice.
Once it gets into the branches of a tree, that's all she wrote. Wisteria
slithers around a limb and just leans on it. "Come on, baby," it
whispers into the knots of the tree, "just lie down, honey. Just lie
down here with me." And the tree may have a backbone like a deacon,
like the preacher's wife, but there ain't no seducer on this earth like
wisteria.
It just leans and whispers.
I think the snake been a victim of mistaken identity. I reckon wisteria
been in the garden of Eden, saying, "Come on, Eve, honey. Just lie down."
You see a big tree in the summertime and it looks just fine, but you
don't know wisteria's intercepting its welfare checks. Then you look up
high and see those purple flowers or those sumacky leaves against the
sky and you know it. You just know it. It's like coming home and
reaching out to give your baby a hug and then seeing that it's not her,
that it's some demon, just using her backbone and parts of her skin for
a little while.
And the doc says, "She got wisteria diphtheria."
After a while the tree gives out and comes crashing to the ground,
wisteria and all. Wisteria don't mind. More sunlight, wisteria says,
and the next morning it's sending out runners everywhere. Wisteria
don't want to get up. No sirree. Wisteria wants everything else to
come down.
I got a theory of wisteria.
I think wisteria is entropy come alive, slinking through the forest,
looking for potential energy to turn into kinetic energy. I think it
laughs in the nighttime under the full moon, but you and I can't hear it.
Wisteria been choking my 'zayahs and cameyahs. Wisteria been trying to
get on my roof. Wisteria been talking on my telephone lines, running up
my phone bill.
One day I walked outside and pulled the wisteria and other vines off my
house. Some of 'em had little sucker-feet, and they made a sound like a
zipper as I yanked 'em off. The wall looked like tree frogs with muddy
feet had been walking up it. I pulled the runners up through the grass.
They stretched all the way to my property line. It was like unraveling
green carpet.
Wisteria was back outside my window the very next day, eyeing the legs
on my kitchen table and drooling some.
You can't just yank wisteria out of a tree. Wisteria practices a
scorched-earth policy. It strips off everything as it goes. The tree
looks like South Dade County. So I took the clippers and crawled in
around underneath the bushes, clipping through the wisteria at its roots.
I thought about this some and then I clipped 'em again about a foot
higher up. I tossed the cut-off pieces out in the grass.
You don't know about wisteria. Wisteria moves fast.
But I figured that way maybe the ends would be all withered up and
puckery by the time they found each other and tried to rejoin, and their
union would be dry and fruitless, like passion in an old folks' home.
Maybe I should have cut off two feet.
Maybe I should have called the folks at the nursery. Maybe I should
have moved up north.
But I didn't, and now wisteria has my automobile. It snuck in and
wrapped itself around the axle one night, and the next morning I
couldn't get the car to move. I had to walk to work, and all along the
way the wisteria was nodding at me from telephone poles and
streetlights. Grinning. By the time I got home it had crawled through
the bumpers and into the engine.
Later I peeked out and it had unlocked the doors and was inside, playing
with the steering wheel and shifting the gears. Fiddling with the radio.
Getting ideas.
During the night, wisteria rang my doorbell. I went to the door and
opened it and a whole mess of greeny vines fell on top of me. They
writhed about like snakes, but I cut 'em off by pushing the door shut.
The severed ends reminded me of lizard tails, all twitchy-like. I was
afraid they'd take root in my carpet, so I boiled 'em for an hour, then
baked 'em at 350 for 45 minutes.
Wisteria cafeteria.
Last night when I woke up and the wisteria was there, corkscrew poised,
a viny maitre d' ready to unstopper me, I jumped out of bed like a
palmetto bug had been rustling on my neck. I ran into the bathroom and
locked the door behind me. I poured Tidy Bowl under the crack. Full
strength. I guess that'll hold it for a little while, but it do smell
pungent in here. I mean from the Tidy Bowl.
I know that pretty soon I'll have to open the window. I can hear
wisteria outside right now, whispering through the framing. "Just lie
down, honey," it says, and giggles a little bit.
Yes I got the wisteria hysteria. The feary mysteria. The teary, never
hear of ya' again blues.
I love looking at wisteria up in the trees as I drive around here in early spring. And glad I don't have it in my yard.
Yep, it's about the prettiest thing I ever saw growing up in the trees. I thought about planting one in the lawn and training it into a small tree. I see them in yards out in the country from time to time. Maybe next year
Great info here. I have a tree with pretty leaves-of-three. They haven't been professionally id'd but I may just go with cutting the bottom of any leaves of three vines. Too bad, they look very pretty.
I have never gotten the poison ivy rash. My sister has but not I. One time I was talking to someone in an old neighborhood, with my leg against a low wrought iron fence and was told get away...that's poison ivy. Similar other times. Never got the rash, thank goodness. BUT I don't want to take any chances.
About Sumac. I'm going to have to study up more on that. Just saw along my property line some nice ethereal things growing. Just about a foot high but have the look of poisonous sumac...long branches with several long narrow leaves on each side.
You need to consider the biology of how a herbicide works. Round up works by entering soft tissue like leaves then being transported to growing young leaves and roots. So it does not work if the plant is not producing new growth or if the plant is not moving sugar to the roots. So for big vines of poison ivy it is only effective in the spring and when sprayed on soft green leaves. That’s why some say it works and some say it doesn’t. It doesn’t work well in the late summer for example.
Please register to post and access all features of our very popular forum. It is free and quick. Over $68,000 in prizes has already been given out to active posters on our forum. Additional giveaways are planned.
Detailed information about all U.S. cities, counties, and zip codes on our site: City-data.com.
Please register to participate in our discussions with 2 million other members - it's free and quick! Some forums can only be seen by registered members. After you create your account, you'll be able to customize options and access all our 15,000 new posts/day with fewer ads.
Sorry you missed your annual wisteria rant. Whatever it is, I suspect I support it fully.
