Ladder tricks

Me. A ladder. A chainsaw. Anyone else amazed I am here to write this column?
For some reason I decided I needed to clear back some trees in my yard. Now, there are two sensible paths I could have taken: (1) Hire someone to trim the trees or (2) Embrace my inner-tree and leave it be.
I opted for the road less sensible, which involved a large extension ladder and the exciting power of gravity.
My first few cuts were rather easy. I was on the ladder, safely secured by the OSHA-approved method known as “Wrapping Your Leg Around the Tree Next To You.” I am not sure I expected this to do, should the ladder fall. I am pretty sure I would not be able to hang onto a tree like some sort of one-legged koala bear.
But anyway, I was trimming away, and the limbs were falling gently to the ground. I even took the unusual step of NOT trying to move the ladder by the tried and tested method of grabbing the ladder and hopping to a new spot. Safety is key.
So after a while, I began to feel quite confident in my tree trimming abilities. I extended the ladder to its maximum height and went high into the canopy. I turned around, facing out from the ladder, which is generally the way chainsaw manufacturers encourage you to operate their devices. I reached up and began to saw a branch to my left.
As the saw got almost all the way through the limb, I heard it start to crack. It started to swing downward, and at that point my brain decided to wake up. “It’s gonna swing down and hit the ladder, you doofus,” it said.
Fortunately, I was thinking quickly, and I swung my leg back behind the tree, utilizing what I must think is some incredibly awesome gripping ability with my leg.
The limb did swing down and smack the ladder, but fortunately did not send me reeling to the ground as you were hoping. (Give it time, folks.) But what I did have was an enormous limb blocking the path of the ladder, so the only way to get down was to cut the limb that was now several feet below me, a little bit at a time.
And if you thought my method of chainsaw use was awesome before, you should have seen me on the ladder, facing out, bending over to cut limbs below me, using one hand to hang on and hoping like crazy that the saw didn’t go through the limb and hit the metal ladder.
Eventually, I made my way down the ladder. So naturally, this brought an air of invincibility, and I decided to move on to larger, higher limbs.
This time, I headed up to a tree right on the other side of my fence that had grown WAY over my yard, to the point that when it rained, the branches would almost droop to the ground.
So once up on the ladder, I fired up the chainsaw and began to trim the limb. When I was almost through the limb, I heard the familiar crackling of the limb breaking, and it began to fall to the ground.
As it turns out, this was a very heavy limb. And as it turns out, this limb was leaning the whole tree. And when the limb was no longer there, guess what? Tree doesn’t lean so much.
I felt the tree starting to move back to the upright position, and the ladder started sliding down the trunk. It was quite evident that this was taking a bad turn.
The tree inched back a little more, and I looked up and noticed the ladder was no longer touching the tree. This was odd. Then I realized that the ladder had fallen against my fence, and I now was standing on top of a very steep see-saw. And then the ladder began to tilt. Down goes the see-saw.
I would love to tell you what happened next, but the truth of the matter is I have no clue.
The next thing I knew, I was standing on the other side of the fence on what was now a bottom rung of the ladder. The chainsaw was on the ground beside me.
The only thing I can guess is that I did a fancy little circus walk as the ladder teetered over the fence and managed to ride it down. I remember thinking (a) I need to do something with the chain saw (b) I hope I don’t get impaled on the fence or a tree and (c) this will probably hurt. I accomplished (a) and (b), and I was partially correct on (c), as my neck and back apparently absorbed much of the landing.
My wife was as supportive as she always is in these situations, which was to sigh deeply and more than likely hope that some of my genetics had not been passed on to our children.
She also told me that I should not do that without an adult present, and I don’t think I was included in the count of necessary adults.
I informed her that would no be a problem, since I was retiring both the ladder and the chainsaw for good. If I can’t reach from the ground and tear it with my hands, it looks good right where it is.