With the holiday season fast upon us, I am reminded that when I was a child my grandmother would tell me of the German custom of stealing one’s Christmas tree from someone’s property rather than buying one. She said the fun came not just from saving money but also from getting away with mischief.

In New Hampshire, I believe the equivalent of this sport is the hunting and cutting of winterberries. From the highways to the back roads you’ll see fanatic winterberry gatherers – their cars pulled to the side of the road, loppers in hand, chopping branch after branch for holiday decorating.

Before moving to our current property, which boasts a large spread of wild winterberry, I too set out every December to procure a cluster of the precious little beauties. I scouted out sources on town property waiting anxiously for the leaves to fall so I could harvest the season’s crop. I’d fill my holiday planters with a variety of evergreen branches, curly willow, red twig dogwood, and the crowning glory: winterberries.

The winterberry (Ilex verticillata) is a deciduous member of the holly family. It loves wet feet, which is why you’ll see so much of it in our swamps and marshy areas along roads. Native to North America, it grows as far north as Nova Scotia all the way down to Florida and west to Missouri. Despite its preference for moist, low spots, it will also grow in high, dry and even ordinary garden soil. In wetlands it suckers to form a dense spreading thicket, but in the garden it tends to stay compact. As a member of the holly family, its male and female plants cross-pollinate to produce the berries, so if you grow it in your garden you’ll need to plant one of each.

Despite my lust for winterberry (and grandmother’s delight in the German custom), I was always conscientious about not trespassing on private property to cut branches. But my scruples weren't shared by others, as I discovered one day as I pulled out of my driveway: There, by the side of the road was a woman hacking away at my winterberries and stuffing them into her open trunk.

My heart raced. Should I confront her or simply keep driving? Before I knew it I had rolled down my window and, in my sweetest voice, inquired “May I help you?” The woman froze, her back, which faced me, stiffened. She realized she was busted.

Slowly she turned, and I waited to hear her reaction. “Who are you?” she asked indignantly. I explained that I was the property owner. Clearly embarrassed, she stated that she had been cutting these very berries for 20 years. And here, all along I’d thought the birds had beaten me to them. Could winterberry harvesting be grandfathered, I wondered?

“Help yourself, but leave some for me,” I said as I pulled away with a wave.

As the days pass I notice more and more people pulling over to cut the berries. Two women even brought a ladder with them to reach the high branches where the berries were thickest. These ladies are pros, I thought. I had to laugh, but stopped to tell them to be careful, as I was concerned about them falling. I could see the headline now: “Winterberry-Snatcher Sues After Toppling Off Ladder.”

For a gardener, there is no greater joy than getting a plant for free. As New Englanders, we thrive on saving money and bragging to friends about the bargains we find. No wonder we flourish on the thrill of snatching a little winterberry without paying the sometimes-outrageous price at the store.

It’s open season, and upon hearing the story of the berry thieves, a friend suggested I put up a sign, Winterberry for Sale. “That makes you a farmer,” she said, “Who’s going to steal your crop?”

She has a point, but for now I think I’ll share my bounty with the birds and the “hunters.”

By Susan Ferber, Master Gardener