New Market, Va. ? Statues commemorating the many contributions of the mighty oak might suddenly appear on every courthouse square if William Bryant Logan were to be named czar of national monument building.

Logan is an arborist and writer from New York, who has been called an unabashed tree-hugger. Not in the political or any pejorative sense, mind you. It’s because he is so public about figuratively wrapping his arms around and giving his heart to oak trees.

“I am in awe of the size of the great redwoods, Doug(las) firs and sequoias and of the age of the bristlecone pine,” Logan said in an exchange of e-mail notes. “I admire the shape of the great surviving elms, and I feel a sense of loss when I see pictures of them as they once lined the streets of American towns.

“I wonder about the chestnut and what forests were like when the great chestnuts were there. But I feel for the oaks a sense of intimate companionship such as I feel for no other tree.”

Logan has written a book about the 12,000-year relationship between people and oak trees. “No tree,” he writes, “has been more useful to human beings than the oak.”

He traces its prominence roughly from when the glaciers last retreated to March 8, 1862, when the Merrimack, a Confederate ironclad, and two Union vessels made of oak met in a short but epoch-ending battle off Hampton Roads, Va. Both wooden ships were sunk. That effectively introduced the Steel Age and all but ended eight centuries or more of using strong yet durable oak for shipbuilding.

Logan spent his childhood among oaks in California where he climbed in them, hunted lizards in their light shade and fought, using their acorns as ammunition. He found oaks again when he moved east to New York – oaks, however, of different species.

Eventually came the book, where he discovered a similar sense of oak-driven intimacy expressed by people living in and around temperate forests.

The oak tree may not have leaves as colorful as maples in autumn, flowers as attractive as the tulip poplar, fruit as flavorful as the apple or eye-catching bark like that of the birch. What it does have, though, is acorns – a healthy and favored staple through the ages – and an admirable combination of permanence, dignity, strength and grace.

“No one thing makes it superior,” Logan writes.

An oak is not a tree in a hurry. Plant an oak and you won’t be doing yourself any favors. Instead, you’re putting down roots for your grandchildren and your grandchildren’s grandchildren. It isn’t unusual for an oak to live 300 years or more.

“Oaks are enfolding and enduring,” Logan said. “They seem to hold our landscape in their embrace. Oaks link generations together. They are large and long-lived, but they are not out of human scale.”

Because living alongside an oak tree is such a long-term relationship, it would be wise to do a little research before simply dropping an acorn or root ball into the ground.

“If you want to plant them, learn about the variety of oaks and about the character of your own home place,” Logan said. “Oaks are so adaptable that there is likely to be one for almost every kind of landscape.

“Some oaks like it wet; others like it dry. Some grow to 100 feet; others to only 30 or 40 feet. Some grow tall and some spread wide. Almost all like slightly acid soils, so it is important not to put them in alkaline situations.”