Who would fall first...the tree, or Ricky?!
The picture tells the end of the tale, but this old elm was a hard one to take down. At first the plan was just to pull out a giant broken limb from a crook in the tree. It was late in the day, and the black flies were getting fierce.
Rope attached to truck and branch, we pulled...the rope growing slowly taut, then impossibly stretched, then the rear wheels of the truck digging ruts in the road, spinning gravel. Well, no go there, and so Ricky, trusty chain saw in hand, proceeds to attack the main trunk. He sawed a deep wedge on one side, then climbed over the fence to do the same on the other. That makes it sound easy, but elm is a hard wood.
Well, that tree stood there, held up by only two inches of wood at its center. The whole tree waved with a tiny push from Ricky, who beat a quick retreat on his escape path down the laneway. But still the tree stood. The truck sprang into action...the rope growing taut, the wheels spinning. Then the rope snapped. It sounded like a gun shot.
Ricky retied the rope. Then more saw. More pull with the truck. More saw. More pull with the truck. What was holding the damn thing up? And then on the last try--it's always the last try--it was falling in the rear view mirror, and Ricky was shouting, "Go! Go! Go!" Down it came with a crash, across the laneway at the gate. That part done, it was time to buck up the wood, to get it ready for splitting and for burning in the stove.
The only question is, Where are we going to put the "No Hunting" sign now that we've lost our post?