Tracking Kazakhstan’s Oldest Trees: A Poplar Sparks a National Project

In the summer of 2020, during the peak of the pandemic, many Kazakhstanis — especially residents of Astana —began the fight to save the capital’s oldest tree, a towering poplar in Central Park. 

Five years later, that same tree, along with other prominent old-growth trees across the country, is becoming the focus of a unique new research project.

Orda.kz explores who is behind this initiative and what it hopes to achieve.

On May 6, the Main Botanical Garden in Almaty hosted a presentation of upcoming initiatives under the Tabigat Labs educational platform. Some of the featured projects, like "Green Rangers," an environmental education program run by the garden, are already well established.

Others are just getting started. Among the newcomers is the Monumental Trees of Kazakhstan project, which will identify and study the country’s most iconic trees — and eventually document them.

A Poplar That Sparked a Movement

Temirtas Iskakov, an architect and urbanist from Astana, runs the project. He’s the same activist who launched the campaign to save the Central Park poplar in 2020. That effort sparked widespread attention and ultimately inspired him to dig deeper into the stories of other ancient trees in Kazakhstan:

I’ve been doing urban research and cultural activism in the field of the historical and cultural heritage of Astana. I actively work with tools like nostalgic spaces on social media, like Odnoklassniki and Facebook, where longtime residents share old photos and memories. While looking for other material, I kept stumbling upon pictures of people standing near a giant old poplar. Some were from the 1980s, others from the 1960s. I got curious — what kind of tree was this? People were saying it was still alive,Temirtas recalls. 

In the end, the poplar was still alive, though it had been fenced off by then. The barrier had been erected to protect the control system of the Sun fountain, the same one tied to a corruption case involving Astana’s former head of the Department of Culture.

By 2020, the fountain had long ceased functioning, yet the fence remained. That’s when Temirtas launched an Instagram account from the tree's perspective, posting archival photos—an account that remains active to this day.

He also started a petition calling for the fence to be removed. Within 24 hours, it had gathered several hundred signatures and attracted media attention. Eventually, part of the fence was removed, and the tree became visible again.

A surprising fact emerged during this campaign: the poplar wasn’t just any tree—it was the oldest in Astana, estimated to be nearly 135 years old. Along the way, Temirtas collected numerous stories from people who had posed for pictures beside the iconic tree. Here's one of them.

I wanted to understand why so many people, without ever coordinating with one another, had taken photos with this one tree. I was curious about what drew them to it and how they felt about it being hidden behind a fence.  Temirtas says. 

Meaningful Trees

That’s how my relationship with old trees began. And I realized it was important to document these stories — to create a book that would preserve not just the tree's history but also the memories and emotions people have attached to it, he continues. 

But Temirtas didn’t want to limit the project to just one poplar in Astana. He and a small team—just three people—have already compiled a shortlist of notable trees across Kazakhstan. Even that "short" list turned out to be quite long. With limited time and funding, they now face tough decisions about which trees to prioritize.

Still, he shared a few strong contenders with Orda.kz. One is the mulberry tree (Mazhratut) in the village of Karnak, in the Turkistan region.

This 1,300-year-old tree looks lifeless from the outside — just dry branches. But each spring, it sprouts new leaves. For locals and visitors, it’s considered sacred. Many who visit the Turkistan region stop by to make a wish beneath it, he says.  

He also recounted a strange experience a friend had while visiting the tree. She was initially annoyed, thinking she’d been brought to a dried-up tree. Then, suddenly, she fell asleep—as if under a spell. When she woke up 20 minutes later, the first thing she saw was a single green leaf on a branch she thought was dead.

Other trees being considered for the book include several oaks estimated to be between 100 and 300 years old, as well as an old willow in the Almaty Botanical Garden and a Sogdian ash near Jarkent.

But we’re not just looking for the oldest or the biggest trees. Size isn’t always the most important measure. What matters most is the meaning that people give it. Perhaps, somewhere in hard-to-reach places, there are very old trees that no one knows about. And to get to them, you will need to conduct a difficult expedition. But this trees will be less ‘native’ to people than, say, a century-old oak growing in a city botanical garden. In that sense, value is also defined by collective memory, Temirtas Iskakov explained. 

Another challenge the team faces is whether to limit the project to individual trees or also include groups —perhaps even entire groves — if they are unique, ancient, and hold special significance for local communities.

Personal Stories Take Root

Temirtas Iskakov stresses that the Monumental Trees of Kazakhstan project marks the first national effort to document and bring together knowledge about historic trees in the country.

In the United States, most states publish Champion Trees guides highlighting the oldest, largest, or most unusual trees. Russia has been compiling a public registry of monumental trees for years, complete with an online database.

Just last year, Uzbekistan joined the Monumental Trees international initiative, becoming the third country in the CIS to do so after Russia and Azerbaijan.

Iskakov sees a key difference in their approach: the project aims to highlight the trees and the people who care about them, be they local activists or the unsung village foresters who protected them over the years.

We don’t want to create just another botanical reference or academic monograph. We’re working on a popular science book that would interest both a child and an adult, someone with no background in history or botany,Temirtas explains. 

Given the team’s limited resources — just three researchers — they likely won’t be able to cover more than ten expeditions this summer. That’s why they’re already thinking ahead: this book may be the first in a series on Kazakhstan’s monumental trees.

Temirtas also invites people nationwide to send in tips and stories about trees they believe deserve attention.

Even if the team is already aware of a particular tree, personal accounts and local knowledge can be invaluable in their work.

Submissions can be sent via the project’s Instagram account.

Original Author: Igor Ulitin