The Butchering of the Butchering Tree

 

   On a recent Sunday my brother-in-law Pete was driving from his home in Moorhead to the family farm southwest of Roseau when he received a disturbing photo from the neighbor. Dennis rents the land at the farm and keeps his equipment in the big shed there. He had noticed that one of the old oaks in the yard had blown down in the recent wind storm and landed on Pete's new trailer.

Could be worse

  Pete likes to drive the three hours to the farm on a regular basis. It gives him a chance to visit his father in his assisted living apartment, see a friend or two, and maybe join us for pizza night. What he really likes is to load his ATV onto his trailer and take it out to the trails in Beltrami Forest for a little wheelin'.

  Having a massive oak land on his trailer was not part of his plan. If Pete had known there was a tree on his trailer before he left home he would have brought his chain saw along. But Pete had options. He called his sister. Teresa and I are always looking for firewood and oak is our favorite. We loaded up the truck and headed to the farm.

  No one has lived at the farm since Enar moved to assisted living a dozen years ago. But another brother-in-law, Jack, drives out faithfully from Roseau and maintains the place for family to use on visits home. The house and outbuildings are surrounded by ancient oaks. Some of the oaks are dying and have already been taken down. 

  The oak that fell on Pete's trailer was called "the butchering tree." When Enar used to kill a steer for meat for the family he would hoist the carcass on a sturdy branch of this tree for butchering. The rusty chains Enar used were still visible. Teresa and I arrived at the farm about the same time Pete did. A thick branch was pushing down on the middle of the trailer bed, but the upper branches were holding most of the weight of the tree off the trailer. Pete was greatly relived. A tree this size and weight could have totally flattened the trailer.

  I fired up my saw and began trimming branches. The trunk of the tree was about two feet in diameter at it's base and had broken off about five feet above the ground. Pete said Dennis would be coming with his loader tractor soon to help lift the trunk so we could pull the trailer out. That was good. I dislike cutting through trees with trunks bigger than the length of my saw's bar.

  As I cut off the ends of the branches, Pete and Teresa hauled the debris to the burn pile and stacked the bigger branches for firewood. As I cut further I started moving into the pressure zone. The problem with branches with pressure on them is that as they're cut, they start to pinch the saw's bar. The solution is to cut the bottom side of the branch. But once the pressure is released, there's no telling which way the branch will snap. I always think of the sailors who are dismembered when they get in the way of the giant cable that launches jets off aircraft carriers. 

  Fortunately Dennis showed up with his tractor. He used the fork on the front end of his tractor to lift the trunk a few inches. If he lifted the trunk too high the rear wheels of his tractor came off the ground. Oak is heavy, you bet. With the pressure off, I was able to cut off several branched without trepidation. Pete and Teresa stacked the cobs of beautiful stove length firewood.

  I was also able to remove the branch pinning down the trailer bed. Then we all jockeyed the trailer out of its trap.  One of the trailer's fenders has been dented  and its welding cracked, but that was it. Dennis got his saw out and we continued cutting. Dennis's saw had an extra long bar, God bless him, so he worked on the trunk while I continued cutting up branches. Dennis burns wood too so he was awarded the trunk. Pete and Kathy have a fire pit back in Moorhead so he took some smaller stuff. 

  Teresa and I filled our truck with cobs from the branches. Most of it would need splitting. By now Dennis had gotten his log splitter going. He offered to help us split our stuff, but we had had enough for the day. We have a splitter at home; the one Jerry Solom made. Our son Matt and his wife Heather would be coming for a visit in a few days. They love splitting wood.

   As I was cutting branches, I kept my eye out for the old butchering chains. Hitting one of them would quickly dull my saw chain. Ah, there they were. I was able to untangle them and pull them off the branch. They'll never be used again to hang up cattle. If Enar was here though, he'd find a way to repurpose them.

To be recycled