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Fiction, © Copyright 2001, Jim Loy
Frank lugged the big chain saw over to the old tree. He stopped and craned his neck to look upward. The tree seemed to touch the clouds. Frank shouted to the boss, "Where do you want it?"
"I'd appreciate it if you could lay it down right alongside the stream."
"You got it." Frank yanked on the cord. On the second yank, the chain saw started up. The sound of the saw, puffing away in idle, echoed through the woods. Frank positioned himself before the tree. He squeezed the trigger of the saw, and nothing else could be heard anymore. Frank carved a big notch out of the tree, on the side toward the stream. He did this in several steps, cutting not one big wedge but several smaller ones. Wood chips shot in a stream of their own, to Frank's left side.
Frank paused in his work. The notch was now so big that it might seem surprising that the tree had not yet fallen. But Frank made a self-satisfied smirk and lugged the idling saw to the other side of the tree. Then he proceeded to cut there, weakening the tree's defenses.
Then, there was a great crack of breaking wood. Frank stopped cutting and stepped back. Lesser cracking noises echoed. The tree was coming down. In the wrong direction! Frank resisted the urge to drop the idling saw and push on the tree. He ran to get out of the way.
The tree fell through the branches of other trees. It seemed to take minutes. It landed in a cloud of dust and pine needles. Right on top of Frank's truck, totaling it. There was a stunned silence.
Once it was clear that the only casualties had been the truck and the tree, laughter echoed through the woods. The half-dozen men who had just scrambled for safety were now laughing. Some chuckled. Others were doubled over with laughter. Still others were nearly falling down, helpless with laughter. From then on, they called Frank the Master Woodsman.