I was working at the cash register at the farm
market one Saturday in high school when a woman walked in. Allison, my goofy
older coworker, notices the woman’s shirt and croons, “Ohh! The Common Ground
Country Fair!” And the woman, pleased that someone had noticed her
new-not-washed-yet shirt, readily enthuses. The only piece of their description
of the fair that I remember is that ‘nearly all the women were braless!”, to
which the woman and Allison laughed mightily as though this outcome was the
result of their personal conspiracy. Their explanation must have hit on several
key buzzwords that appealed immensely to me at the time – ‘rural living’
‘organic food’ “Mainers’ ‘camping hippies’- because the notion of this fair
stuck, and has since crossed my mind variously as a thing I should do some day
when I get a chance.
| 90˚ notch on the left; flap extending most the way | |
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| to the right; barely visible one-inch hinge |
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Jump ahead a couple years, and I am working on a
farm in Maine. The organization through which I found my apprenticeship is the
same one that puts on the Common Ground Country Fair every year as their major
fundraiser. All food organic, all crafts Maine-sourced, and all demonstrations promoting
alternative lifestyles and a common
ground for a variety of organizations and ethnic traditions, et cetera. A
‘celebration of rural living,’ the fair lives up to its stereotypes, while
throwing in a bit of substance as well. There were the requisite dreadlocks and
bare feet (last weekend of September), as well as Amish folk, farmers, and
scores and scores of Mainers in their Maine finest: Bean boots, Carhartt pants,
and flannel. All-organic/Maine-sourced food vendors, contra dances, and weed
dating ('brush hands in the flower bed! make new friends!').
The talks and demonstrations run the gamut from
titillating to ridiculous: Mowing Techniques for European Scythes, Learn to
Play the Spoons, Advanced Seed Saving, The Culture and Horticulture of
Elderberries, How to do a Home Funeral. The first demonstration I attended was Directional
Tree Felling Techniques w/ Chainsaw. Chosen from relatively few options in that
early time slot, I picked this one for its location in the (intriguingly named)
‘low impact forestry area’ and the promise of chainsaw action. I arrive 30 seconds
after 9, grab a hard hat from the pile, and hurry down the path into the woods.
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| notch; sawing the flap; studious would-be lumberjacks |
The enthusiastic, one-time primary school teacher
running the demonstration wore a neon vest, a hard hat with ear protection, a
whistle, and heavy pants and boots. He was still lecturing on safety: “chainsaw-resistant
pants are not chainsaw-proof! They
will only prevent a glancing touch by tangling in the saw. But get some! Ask
for them for Christmas, Father’s Day, Arbor Day, whatever! They might save your
life!” A bearded guy in a woolly poncho and an upright young man with his shirt
tucked in nodded knowingly and jotted down notes.
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| successfully falling tree |
Next, the tree felling. First cut a notch that spans
almost the diameter of the tree. This tree is 15 inches, so we estimate that
the notch should be a foot wide. The notch will be 90˚; the inner angle will
form the ‘hinge.’ The hinge is of utmost importance in directional tree felling
– like a door hinge, it will allow the tree to fall only one of two directions.
The idea is the tree will fall toward the hinge, and neatly fall 90˚ to hit the
ground before splitting on itself.
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| imperious teamster and horses |
Next, cut a ‘flap’ from the other side of the
one-inch hinge toward the opposite side. The tree is now prepared, but stable.
Adding plastic wedges to the opposite side encourages the tree to fall in the
desired direction- toward the hinge. Then cut through the hinge! A balanced
tree in breezeless woods may hold steadily. Tap the wedges lightly. Exhilaratingly,
it rustles, and surprisingly gracefully, it falls. Right where you intended!
Good job. The teamster and his horses ride in to take the tree away.
