Rockpile

 

   Roseau County is mostly flat thanks to the bulldozer effect of the glacier that moved across the land 12,000 years ago. As the glacier moved back to the North Pole it dropped billions of various sized boulders to plague farmers and their kids during the most recent geologic era.

   There are two rockpiles on the farm Teresa and her siblings grew up on. Over the years trees sprouted in the rockpiles and grew to maturity. Rockpiles make pretty pictures for passersby but farmers resent having to plant around them. 

   The farm where Teresa grew up was sold in 2024. Teresa's brother Pete bought 40 acres of farmland and woods from the family farm before it was sold. He put up a shed, bought a tractor, and drives three hours from his home in Moorhead to his land many times a year. If it's not too cold he'll spend a night or two camping there.

   Pete recently contacted us that the farmer who bought the farm was planning to have the rockpiles buried. Pete said there were lots of oak trees growing in the piles and asked if we wanted to cut them out for firewood. Yes we would. Oak is our favorite wood.

   Pete said we needed to get out there soon. The farmer was planning to bury the piles before spring planting, so as Shakespeare said,  "If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly." The ground around the rockpiles was too soft to drive our truck on, but Pete could pull his trailer out to the pile with his tractor. We could cut the trees down then cut them into shorter lengths and haul the lengths back to Pete's shed for later pickup.

   Pete would keep a share of the wood for burning in his campfire and our friend Joe Stenzel, who heats with wood, said he wanted to come and help, and he too would get a share. We dressed warmly because it was a cool and cloudy day. Teresa made a picnic lunch. I fueled up my chainsaw and cooked some coffee for the thermos and we drove twenty minutes to Pete's land.

   Pete drove the tractor, Teresa rode on the trailer, and I drove Pete's ATV to the rock pile. I got there several minutes before Pete and Teresa and surveyed the scene. I didn't like it much. The trees were not oak but ash, which is also a good wood for the stove. The rockpile was in the form of a long oval. The mature trees were gnarled and defended by lots of gnarly younger trees. 

   The pile was more a ring of rocks rather than a pile. It was like a ring fort and I thought it would make a great place to defend yourself from say, an attack by the Taliban. Pete and Teresa arrived and we started cutting. Teresa would pile the wood in the field for transfer to the trailer. Pete and I cut at opposite ends of the pile to avoid dropping trees on each other. I could barely see Pete through the thick witch's tangle of trees.

   I started cutting the smaller trees in my way and Teresa dragged them away. The thing I hate most when cutting wood is getting my saw chain stuck in a tree. I'm always super careful to avoid it, but luck was against me and I almost immediately got my chain pinched. But no problem. Pete could cut me out. Except Pete's saw got stuck too. It was awkward working on the rocks and it all happened quickly. I wiggled my saw furiously while Pete and Teresa lifted the problem tree and my saw came free. Then I freed Pete's saw. This was not a good omen. The resident spirits of the pile did not like being disturbed.

   Joe Stenzel was still on his way but didn't know which field road to turn on to get to the pile. He called me, but I didn't hear his call in the racket of my saw. I always wear good hearing protection. Joe was about a mile away waiting for me to return his call. After about a half hour of stumbling over rocks and clearing brush, Pete said he wanted to quit. I concurred heartily. Only Teresa was disappointed. "Let's cut that tree by the edge of the pile before we quit." 

   I wanted the tree to fall into the field, but trees can have a mind of their own and the tree fell over some big balls of rolled up barbed wire which would be handy in case of an attack by a terrorist group. I didn't want to cut the tree where it was. Barbed wire is hard on chain saw chains, so we worked on rolling the tree into the field. As the tree started to roll, Teresa lost her balance, fell backwards, and hit her head on a boulder. "Ow ow ow," she said. I was glad she was still responsive. We could really use a doctor right now. Joe Stenzel is a doctor and he was in the vicinity. When he found the road near the rock pile Teresa jumped on the ATV to fetch him, another good sign she'd be ok.

   Joe said this was the first rockpile call he'd ever made. After checking Teresa's pupils, Joe said to keep an eye out for symptoms of concussion, then he helped us load the trailer. He declined lunch and headed for home. We ate lunch and also went home. It started to rain so we would have had to quit anyway and probably would not have returned to that nasty rockpile. 

   By next morning, Teresa's head felt fine, her bump was going down, but she had a very stiff neck which hung around for several days. Cutting your own firewood is great exercise and is very satisfying as long as nothing goes wrong.