Deb and I discussed whether or not I’d want her around — close by, that is — while I winched on Dangling Tree near Dancing Tree. There wasn’t really anything she could do to help, other than to call for an ambulance if the thing came down on my head.
I decided it’d probably be a good idea.
This morning, after an unexpectedly bone-chilling start (13°F), dawn presented me with The Perfect Day. Blue skies. Light breeze. I’ve acclimated to the season now, and mid-20s felt just about right for working outdoors.
And so I changed my mind. I’d do the deed while Deb was at work.
I parked the Ranger in the spot I’d picked out, its left-front tire braced against the base of a sturdy oak. I fitted a shackle to a 20-foot tow strap and began tossing it over the suspended limbs. It took a half-dozen tries, but I got it where I wanted it and (gingerly) cinched it down.
Turning the knob on the winch to “free,” disengaging the clutch, I pulled the cable out and attached it to the tow strap. I walked back to the Ranger and engaged the clutch, then opened the glove box and took out the hard-wired remote that operates the winch.
I pressed the rocker switch and reeled in the cable just enough to take up the slack. And then I stopped.
A deep breath was in order — this was The Moment of Truth. I was about to find out if my plan would work.
I thumbed the switch again and started the pull.
Nothing moved right away. The winch motor’s whine became a growl, and the Ranger leaned hard into the tree I was using as a wheel chock. Then, from 20 yards away, there came a loud crack! — and another, and another.
The widowmaker broke free and fell — most of it, at least, and most of the way down.
I rocked the switch the other direction to relieve tension, then gave the cable another tug. Progress. I repeated that sequence about ten times, with each yank bringing my target closer to the ground.
When I judged that I’d done as much as I could with the winch, I slackened the cable and walked up to the tree for a closer look.
I quickly discovered what was preventing the widowmaker from coming all the way down — a slender hickory, maybe four inches in diameter and 25 feet tall. It was bent over like a cocked catapult, still rooted and under a lot of tension. Until I dealt with that, nothing else could be done.
A pole saw would’ve been ideal for the job, but mine was back in the shed. I slapped a battery on the DeWalt chainsaw I had with me, cleared an escape route, and chose where to make my cut on the hickory.
I stood well off to one side, where neither Dangling Tree nor the tricky hickory would be likely to hit me when it let go. One-handing the chainsaw — a real benefit of a lightweight electric tool — I cautiously scored the high side of the trunk at the point of greatest strain.
When I say “scored,” I mean no more than a quarter-inch deep. By the third shallow cut, the hickory began to surrender. After the sixth, it collapsed — straight down.
It sounds sketchier than it was.
I didn’t buck any of that wood today. What I did do was drop long branches and cut anything that looked like it was inclined to shift, so that the whole thing is, for all intents and purposes, on the ground now.
I left the cargo sled behind, next to the tree. It’ll come in handy when I return to harvest and haul away what I brought down.
Y’know, there always was a chance that this tree gave up most of its crown to tornadic winds because it was bug-eaten, pithy, unsuitably soft. Even from a distance, I could see that it sure ain’t the healthiest oak on The Mountain.
I’m pleased to report, though, that every cut I made today struck cabin-heating gold. It’ll make outstanding firewood, and since it essentially was standing dead — or dangling dead — for the last eight months, it’ll be quicker to season.
Add to that four smaller hardwoods taken out when this one fell, and we’re lookin’ at a respectable amount of top-grade fuel.
Today goes in the win column.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable