Generally, I don’t kill trees. Save for the inconvenience of having an occasional and errand limb chopped, or losing some awkward outgrowth in the name of aesthetics, my trees normally have little to worry about. They are huge and healthy and dutifully litter the lawn with their seasonal dendric drippings. I don’t let them desiccate, and in return they treat my family to shade and swings and sewage problems. We grew to understanding each other, and I think they are happy, insofar as trees can be happy. At the very least, not a single one has decided to leave by itself.
Now the time has come to upset the druidic balance and remove one entirely. The tree in question is a large syringa, maybe as old as I. It dutifully carried bird’s nests and at least one tree house. It has dense ivy running up the eastern side of the trunk. Altogether a nice, well behaved tree. I hope it understands that I’m not killing it as punishment, or to make an example out of it in any way. Its only crime was to grow where I now need to build something: the tree occupies the only sufficiently dark nook suitable for a modest backyard observatory.
It was not an easy decision, naturally, but eventually I’ve convinced myself that the tree had a long and fruitful life, that it was alien to South Africa, that – now that I think about it - it really generates a lot of raking effort come early summer, and that it is morally excusable to get rid of nature in order to study nature. With this set of delicate rationalizations, the problem has now morphed into one of logistics.
And if you are starting to wonder what this has to do with skepticism, here it comes. Quotes from two professional tree fellers were requested, and duly disbelieved.
Now, many chaps fancy themselves competent (or at least enthusiastic) handymen. I am not above such delusions, and reinforced by the incredible quotes, I’ve decided to tackle the job myself. Besides, if you have decided to murder something, it’s only proper to do the wet work yourself.
Having made my decision that there is really no reason why I shan’t do the felling myself, I went outside and took another look at the tree. It appears to have grown quite a lot since I saw it last. Its trunk seemed disproportionately large compared to my saw.
After some research, I found that there is a special technique in felling such large trees. It involves dipping the saw bar-end first into the trunk and then wiggling it around in a special way. It is one of the procedures that the instruction manual emphatically and paradoxically advise you not to attempt unless you are experienced in it. But what the heck, maybe the tree should be offered at least some chance for revenge.
Rigil