“I have a tree, which grows here in my close, that mine own use invites me to cut down, and shortly must I fell it…” ~William Shakespeare (Timon of Athens, V, i)

A few days ago I had to have a huge shade tree in my backyard cut down.  Not just pruned, but completely cut down.  I still feel pretty bad about it so I thought writing about it might ease my timbering guilt a little.  This is the tale of its treethanasia in pictures.

My house is almost 30 years old; I’m pretty sure the tree, a Bradford Pear, was planted when the house was built or shortly thereafter, because all the arborists who looked at it for me (to assess its health and give me bids on taking it down) told me they estimated its age at 25-30 years.  All of them also said it was at the end of its life span, that Bradfords rarely (and/or safely) make it past that age.  Here’s a picture of it at its full shady glory in my backyard:

IMG_5522It provided a huge canopy of welcome shade for the walkway on the side of my house and a large portion of my backyard ever since I moved in 4 years ago.  It also protected me from some rain when going back and forth to my flower shed.  The tallest part of it was easily twice as tall as my house.  I liked the dark glen it provided to look at outside my windows on that side of the house.IMG_5521As much as I liked the shade, I was equally very frustrated by its continual leaf drop seemingly twelve months out of the year, covering the porch and backyard in leaf litter and clogging my rain gutters, leading to muck and mosquitos.  Branches would rub against the roof and chimney, waking me up during windstorms and allowing creatures such as armadillos and squirrels an easy route to ramble along the roof whenever they wanted.

IMG_5524But then in the fall, it would redeem itself with an explosion of color for a short while, leaving a pool of nature’s confetti to slush through.

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IMG_0304I’ve learned over the past few months that Bradfords are very rapidly-growing trees and because of this, they often grow with many points of instability.  They split into many different joints and trunks and because of this, water and leaves pool in the wells in-between those joints and trunks, causing rot and weakness.  They are often the first trees to fall and/or split during wind or rain storms, especially as they get older like my tree was.  I learned this the hard way a few months ago, when this happened:

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IMG_5193A huge portion of the tree just split at the ground level and fell crashing through the fence into the neighbor’s yard (onto their porch roof).  It was several days before I could get some guys to come remove that part of the tree and repair the fence.  They painted the open-faced wound with “tree scar” tar to try to prevent it from rotting further, but they told me that eventually the whole tree would probably have to come down.

About two months and an arkful of Austin rainstorms later, I noticed a disgusting oozing amber gel-like substance on the other huge tree in my backyard, a pecan tree.  All the arborists who came to look at it said it was a harmless jelly fungus due to all the rain, but they also all pointed out that the Bradford was in imminent danger of now falling again, and that this time it was going to fall onto my roof and house because all the weight was now on that one side.

So, a few weeks later I found a company that would cut the tree down for a reasonable price.  On the morning of its imminent demise, before the worker guys showed up, I went outside to put my hands on its trunk; it was a living thing that had survived several decades, and I felt guilty that I was the one taking away its livingness.  Maybe I should have felt silly saying “I’m sorry, tree,” but instead I just felt sad.  (I knew however that I’d be much sadder if and when it fell on my house and I had to shell out an even bigger sum for my home insurance deductible, so it had to be done.)

The tree guys showed up and didn’t waste any time.  One guy harnessed himself high up in the tree and started cutting branches, which quickly covered the yard and porch; the other two guys would use their own chainsaws to cut the branches down even further and drag them out to the trailer behind their truck.

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Can you see him there in the middle of the tree?

IMG_5528It went pretty quickly after that.  I tried not to watch but I couldn’t look away.  I figured I was the one ending its life…I might as well document it and be there to face it.  The chainsaw whittling continued and the tree got stubbier and thinner.  More and more of the green part of the tree disappeared each few minutes.

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IMG_5533Until finally all the green was gone and only branches were left.

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IMG_5536And then only the bottom of the trunk remained.  When he cut into it horizontally for the very last cut at ground level, part of the huge trunk split in two vertically on its own, that’s how weak it was at its lowest level.  I had made the right decision; it really was on its last legs.

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This part of the trunk sat there for a long time while everything else was cleaned up. I felt a great sense of loss.

30 years of growing into the skies had now been reduced to a large leafy pile in a trailer to be hauled away.

IMG_5541And what was left was a large empty spot, a blank fence, and…sunshine.  So much sun, shining down on my two Mountain Laurel trees and ground jasmine that probably haven’t seen or felt true sunshine like that in decades.  And sun shining through my windows, making my house lighter than it’s ever been.

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IMG_5543I know it was just a tree, and that it didn’t have a brain or nerve endings so it couldn’t feel pain, but did it somehow know that its life was coming to an end?  I don’t know…I also don’t know why I’m worrying about this, I should just be annoyed that this tree has cost me about 40 times what someone probably paid for it back when it was planted.  It had a good life.  And life does go on, from the dark into the light.

IMG_5517And as I sit here writing this, streams of sunlight are shining in my eyes through the window for the first time.  It’s nice.

À la prochaine!

Ant Kristi

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