(Gremlins got hold of this, sorry for the delay ~ Mikeco)
Twenty years or so ago doesn’t seem like a long time anymore. I mean, the actual time is a chunk of years, but it doesn’t seem like it was that long ago, even though I know for a fact it was. The Big Pine had dropped one of its lower limbs, still green, but just hanging there. Large and a protentional dog killer, I set about wondering what to do about the hanging limb.
I had a rope, three-fifths jute, and decided the thing to do would be to toss the rope up to the limb, pull the tossed end all the way over, and from there, pull one way then the other until the limb broke. Nothing says, “This will utterly fail,” more loudly than the plan going according to, well, plan.
Got the rope up first toss, pulled the end down, made a loop, pulled it tight, and spent two hours pulling one way then the other, and the limb did not break. I had no choice but to leave the rope connected, so I pulled and pulled and pulled, for weeks, nay, months, and the limb never broke, and it actually stayed green for the longest time. Finally, the limb fell.
Well, most of it, a three- or four-foot dead section was still up there so I tossed the rope again, made a loop, repeat, rinse, repeat. Even the dead part of the limb didn’t want to come down.
I had a plan.
My plan was to leave the dead section alone. But to get the rope down, I was going to clip the rope with a .22 and break it. I fired ten shots and got close two or three times. My neighbor came over to check out the shooting so I let him try. He got close with one out of ten shots.
My neighbor’s wife came over, carrying a small child. Her husband held the child and she brought the rope down one her first try.
That child is twenty-one years old these days. Her parents have long since divorced, but I don’t think the rope incident had anything to do with it.
Today I went out on the tree, which is still floating, to look at that limb. The part where the rope was attached is still there. It’s odd to see that limb up close. The lower part of that thing dangled for years it seemed, and blasting away at the rope to get it down is the most South Georgia thing I’ve ever done while sober. I haven’t seen the formerly married couple in years, and wouldn’t recognize the daughter if I saw her.
The tree dying is a great sadness for me. People have come and gone in my life, but large trees are supposed to outlive me. I had good times with my neighbors, but the husband was a hot mess and did things he should not have. It is not my place to judge a man in regard to what sort of father or husband he was, for no one knows but the husband and wife what has happened. It’s easy to hide hypocrisy and tell you only bad men lose good women, but I won’t. But I do think I have lost women who were good women, and like the tree dying, was at a loss as to what I could have done to save what I loved.
That makes me no better a man for losing the tree, or the woman.
Take Care,
Mike
I love the fact that she brought it down with one shot. I used to out shoot my shooting companion as well. I used to out fish him too. I know it was probably an irritant to him, but he never said that, he was always ready to admit to anyone that I was a better shot than he was. One of his friends asked him why he taught me to shoot, he told him that in fact he didn’t, I had come preloaded with that particular skill. His friend had no idea how to respond.
I dislike that many of our trees are dying as well. Except the hackberry trees, they can go.
Women are better shots than men because they think about what they are doing. Men just throw down and miss.
Shooting is one of those activities men just think they’re great at doing even if they aren’t.
My first 3 shots ever holding a gun in my life were center of the target. I’m still a more consistent shot than Mike (note: note necessarily better — but I regularly can hit the same place multiple times in an 11-shot magazine), and I’m generally better at adjusting my aim with my gun than he is — but to be fair to him on that, my gun has a weird sight that hard to adjust and I’ve had more practice with it.
If he shows up dead from gunshot I hope I’m not on the jury. I wouldn’t want a good shot pissed at me.
When I was at a shooting range, I sometimes could hit close to the same spot a few times, then I would be off hitting other spots.
Mike, the story of trying to get that branch down reminds me of what a co-worker used to say: everything is fixable by the correct application of the proper explosives.
Tim, people don’t understand how tenacious a limb can be. Pines, in particular, seem to be good at being dead, and not dropping. I wonder if a small explosive charge might be worth the effort next time.