It’s when winter starts getting serious that I recall the time when my friends and I went into the “forest products” business. We wanted to do our part to help provide the raw material for Maine’s unique wooden lobster traps. The fact that I survived the woodland experience to tell this story is proof to me that my guardian angel is better than most.

Back when lobster traps were made of wood, our town had a trap mill, a place where oak logs were milled out and sawed into laths and trap frame stock.

This particular year I heard that the trap mill was paying higher than normal prices for oak logs. Knowing that my father would support my hard work and initiative, I asked if I could borrow his 4-wheel-drive Land Rover to thin out some oak trees on the woodlot he owned down on the Sprague Falls Road.

Dad approved of the plan, only after learning that my friend Charlie – who knew something about felling large trees – would be there as part of my crew.

Dad’s only words of advice: “Be careful, son.”

I’m sure my friends and I had every intention of being careful, as Dad advised, but, well, stuff happens.

When the operation got under way I remember cutting down a fairly large oak tree and after limbing it, I hooked it up to the come-along on the front of the Land Rover. Everything was going fine until the tree got hung up behind a standing tree. My oak tree stopped dead in its tracks, but the Land Rover’s come-along kept running, assuming the oak tree would continue to come along, which of course it didn’t.

At some point Charlie, who saw the oak tree hung up, ran over and shut off the Land Rover and the come-along. He then tried to explain something about torque and what could have happened if the cable on the come-along had snapped.

As I recall, Charlie said that the large steel hook on the end of the cable would have come flying back toward the Land Rover and gone through my skull like a sharp object through a soft pumpkin. While he was in an instructive mode, Charlie also explained that we had to be careful with branches bent by a falling trees. He said when finally freed, branches can swing with great force like a baseball bat and do a lot of damage to anything or anyone in its way.

I didn’t like the idea of having my head compared to a soft pumpkin but I got the point. Once we finished our lesson with Charlie and got things mostly straightened out with the come-along I went on to cut down another large oak.

When it finally crashed to the ground, I began limbing it, and as I sawed the last large branch, the massive trunk dropped right right on my feet.

What happened then? Well, all I can say is the reason I still have two feet to call my own is because there were about 24 inches of soft snow under the feet the oak tree dropped on. It was around that same time I made the decision to choose a career that would have me working mostly indoors – away from mature oaks.

John McDonald is the author of five books on Maine, including “John McDonald’s Maine Trivia: A User’s Guide to Useless Information.” Contact him at mainestoryteller@yahoo.com.

Copy the Story Link