The dike road into Kleidijk is paved in three different gravels, and the seams mark where it was rebuilt after something crossed it. I came in from the Aarsloot side on foot, past a row of peeled willow stakes set every ten paces across a pasture. Each stake leans east. Beyond the last one, a trench as wide as a hay wagon ran through the grass, floored with turned black soil, and at the far end of it the ent stood knee-deep in a drainage ditch, drinking.
It is an alder, thirty-one feet tall, with bark in dark plates like cooled slag and a crown that thins to a few catkins by autumn. The face sits low on the trunk: two knots for eyes and a split that opens when water runs past. It eats silt, ditch water and whatever sun reaches the crown. In wet months it covers about four hundred yards a week. In frost it does not move at all. Wrens nest in its elbows, and it has never been seen to hurry.
The argument is over who owns it. Kleidijk says the ent stood on the village commons before anyone cut the first drain. Aarsloot says it walked out of their peat meadow forty years ago and has only been visiting. Both have tried settling it with paint. Kleidijk's council whitewashed a K on the ent's shin, the ent waded a ditch the next week, the K floated off in flakes, and Aarsloot's schoolmaster still teaches that this was a vote. The only people who profit are the stake-setters, who read the trench each dawn and drive willow stakes ahead of its path so farmers know which rows to cut early. Iron stays out of the ground within fifty paces of the track, since an ent that strikes a nail will stop and stay stopped for days. Nelleke Brandt, the senior stake-setter, says the ent has never once asked which village it is standing in.
I was asked to rule, so I measured. The trunk stands eleven feet inside the Kleidijk boundary ditch. The longest root I could trace, by probing the trench wall, runs forty feet into Aarsloot ground. A tree that drinks from one parish and stands in the other has no clean answer, and I gave none. Both councils accepted this with visible disappointment. While the clerks argued over the minutes, I filled a rain barrel at the ditch and set it within the ent's reach. The barrel held ninety gallons, and it was empty by noon.
- Classification
- Sylvan tree guardian
- Habitat
- Fens, ditched pasture, alder carr
- Danger
- Moderate
- Size
- 31 ft tall
- Activity
- Seasonal
- Realm
- Fae and Sylvan Folk
- Binomial
- Alnarbor gradiens
- Diet
- Ditch water, silt, sunlight
- Temperament
- Slow, stubborn, indifferent










