Friday Firesmith – the death of trees

When I moved out here to Hickory Head back in 2001 or so, the front yard had this giant red oak tree in it, the backyard had three or four big trees, one stump of a giant tree that was ten feet tall, and the back acre was nothing but vines and bramble except for a few big trees.

Now, twenty-five years later, the Red Oak in the front yard died along with one of the three water oaks on the west side, nearly all the big trees in the back yard are dead, but one, and I’ve lost control of the bramble in the back again.

Water has been the main problem, too little, then too much, and then damn man, when is this rain going to stop?  Hurricanes three out of the last four years have been a big problem.

You can believe in climate change, global warning, or not. But in the last five years I’ve seen south Georgia go from a predictable environment to wetter, hotter, windier, and unstable. Trees are being killed in this region by the hundred of thousands. North Florida’s timber industry was wiped out for a generation by hurricane Michael.

Just here, just losing trees to the west of me, the house is hotter due to the loss of shade. The compost pile is beset with weeds because it is no longer in the shade. The pond lost many of the trees that once surrounded it. The creatures who live in this area lost dozens of Oaks, so their acorns as lost we well.

The squirrels could at one point in time, travel from the woods west of the house, through the trees and never touch the ground getting to any point on my property. The front yard is down to one Live Oak and the back has two. The far back of the property has one giant and two smaller Live Oaks.

As more trees are felled by the wind, those left as left with as much defense as they have known in the past. The water oaks in the back of the property grew up tall, not thick, because there were so many of them. But one by one, those on the edge have been felled by water or wind, and now the rest stand more exposed.

Back when I first started putting up fences so the dogs could have room to roam, I also cleared a lot of the vines and bramble. The dogs helped by running around the perimeter and beating a path out there, and then making another bisecting at the back of the property, and slowly there were connections between paths and paths around thing they like to climb on.

I thought, I truly believed, once the first tree in the back was tall enough to house a Cardinal nest, and they returned for years to nest in that same tree, that when I left this place, feet first or relocation, I would see it as a place with more trees.

I was wrong.

Take Care,

Mike

This picture shows how much the bramble has grown. It would swallow Wrex

this tree fell Monday night

Friday Firesmith – Bringing down the trees

The last two trees I brought down were a bit goofy and that made me a bit skittish. The first one did something not totally unexpected, because when you cut a tree that is both dead and hollow, it might, or it might not, do what you plan it will.

Hear me, My Dudes. When you’re felling a tree and that thing starts moving, you do, too. Get the hell away from it. This one hit, then the trunk end backed up over ten feet and it fell over due east another five feet. Standing to one side or right behind it, I would have gotten hit.

Another I cut two weeks ago broke as it was falling and it was more of an explosion than a cut. Part of the top fell backwards. I ran, twisted my ankle, and decided to shop around for a tree cutting service.

So here we are. The guy told me he would take the two smaller dead trees, with twisted limbs going off in all directions, and the dying tree next to The Mom’s She Shed for four-fifty. I think he was in a good mood, for that is a great price, and yesterday, the bucket truck and the saw guy arrived on time and ready to go.

The dead pine is lopped into pieces and dropped without a hitch. The dead water oak is dispatched quite easily, and all is well.

The tree beside the Shed of the She, is a mystery tree. I have been told it’s a water gum, a swamp myrtle, and a copperhead. (Everything is a copperhead to some people.)

So the guy buckets up, limbs fall like rain, he gets a lot of it down, and decides to fell the rest. I warn him about the water faucet in the backyard. He tells me no problem.

He ties the a rope to a tree, uses another rope to fasten a pulley to a tree in the woods, backs the truck up to create tension, and cuts. The tree falls. It does not fall perfect.

It misses my yard wagon by a foot. But the rope pushes another dead tree over and it hits the faucet perfectly. Water springs out like a sprinkler on meth. The guy has no plumbing supplies with him.

Normally, I might be pissed, but this guy has taken down three trees and no one is hurt. I have some spare parts and some glue, so the two of us get the pipe fixed, he cuts some of the larger pieces down to size for me, and we call it a day.

I could have folded my arms, told him the broke pipe was his problem, and simply waited to see what would happen next. But it was a freak accident, unrelated to the actual cutting, and I have three trees down and no one is hurt.

I’ve said that before. No one is hurt.

I think that’s more important that some glue and spare pipe parts and fifteen minutes of work.

Take Care,

Mike