They Call Me Crazy Bastard

Anon named me 'Crazy Bastard' on this blog, and The 'Esteemed' Doctor seconded the motion.

I carried the motion as chairman of the board of Mossonwood because it made me laugh. And so ends Mossonwood. All thanks to a lowly anonymous punk, for a moment of wit. The identity of whom we shall never know. It's better that way. The Doctor can take the credit for this comedy gold.

Please follow the link to my new woodsman blog...

They Call Me Crazy Bastard

'Forest Storm No.7'

'Forest Storm No. 7' Bill Pocock, 2009

Stihl Life No. 3

'Stihl Life No. 3' Bill Pocock, 2009

One of a small series of photos posted on my art blog, Bill Pocock.

Writing two blogs at once, living separate lives.

Bill Pocock is all about the question,
"who am I, what am I, where am I, how am I, why am I?",
answered in the form of art documentation.

Saving Private Chainsaw Bar

I tossed and turned all night - how will I drop that tree?

Fit a new bar and chain to the chainsaw motor to free the stuck one?

Or, sharpen the axe and do it old school, hardcore lumberjack style.

My macho gave me no choice.

Axe, baby.

On the last chop the top tree suddenly shifted sideways
on the bar. Things happen so fast. That's why there's so
many accidents in lumberjacking. All I could do now
was give it a good push, get back, and hope for the best.
Time almost stands still as you look up, watching as the
tree decide which way it's gonna go. I like it.

One of the complications in axe felling is that with every swing, you shake the small or mid-size tree during the critical, final cuts. This potentially destabilizes the balance of tree above the cut and makes directing the fall not as simple and predictable as using the smooth chainsaw machine.

I got lucky again. The top of tree shifted off and got
held up by surrounding tree branches. The bottom
of the cut tree missed the bar on the drop and didn't
crush it. As the bar and chain was free, I could use
the engine again. Real lucky.

It's easy to get exhausted fast with the axe. The key is to take it nice and easy until your body is conditioned to this type of task. Let the axe head do the work. Pull it out of the trunk with the top hand near the axe head. Then slide it to the bottom hand at the end of the handle on the forward swing in. Alternate 45 degree angle cuts above and below in order to chip off chunks of wood. At least that's what I figure from watching those TV lumberjack competitions.


Boy howdy! There's the long stump (above) and the dropped upper tree with branches held up by surrounding trees. The tree is about fifty feet tall.

With chainsaw reassembled, I began and finished the difficult task of dropping the rest of the tree to the ground in 3 to 4 foot sections. Dangerous. It happens all the time in this dense 'core' forest. That will make a suspense filled video clip sometime.

I swear, I should host a kid's show on the interesting and dangerous things I do in the forest every day. I think young kids would like it in the same way those construction site videos enthrall them. Lumberjack Bill.

Axe Time

While I had a sharp felling axe on the scene, I thought I'd time how long it takes me to chop through the 10" sugar maple trunk - just like I was a real lumberjack.

The first chopped side took me about five minutes. I found that when chopping a tree down, it's best and easiest if you maintain a constant chopping rhythm. It's the same with shovelling gravel. There's a natural pace, then it's just a matter of time until the tree falls.


I found it helped to switch hand positions, side to side of the tree, as I wasn't used to using those particular tree chopping muscles. I should do a DIY instructional video for all those metrosexuals buying fancy designer axes to show how a real amateur does it. All part of my patented Lumberjack Workout Program.


The back side took me about two minutes. Near the end, I always begin to wonder, will this be the final chop? The chops then are directed straight in to the narrowest part of the remaining trunk. Just want to drop the damn thing. Then, on the last chop the whole thing popped off like chopping some one's head off.


And then, just for comparison, I timed how long it took to cut through the tree trunk with the semi-sharp MS 260. Seven seconds.

You do the math - 7 minutes versus 7 seconds.


I'm one guy in a forest that needs to be thinned throughout for improved growth and health. Think of how many trees I could cut down in a day by axe versus chainsaw.

During chainsaw season from September to April (?), it's definitely chainsaw. But in spring/summer, I could see myself swinging the axe and bucking logs with a swede saw. Or...a one-man crosscut saw.

Day in the Life

Another sunny, mild November day. Perfect. Almost.

Basically working up a sweat, clearing forest trails along the western ridge line.

A day working in the forest - every chore a celebration of life. And death for some unlucky trees.

It's hard to put together the pieces of the day....

Here's some photos. Here's a little slide show, whatever I can think up on the spot is set down on the lines below it. Not really a slide show. I'm too lazy to figure out how to do that on Blogger - and I don't want to know, thanks.

Imagine the lights dim, I hover over the carousel slide projector with a drink (or two) in hand.

Here's the first one...

Is it ladybug season? Went to FMO for lunch and they're all over
the place - all over FMO. Hope these little bastards don't try
to form a bloody colony. Then inside I find house flies up on the
ceiling, trying to get out the window. At first I was pissed, then
I realized, "Hey, with the fly zapper, this is the only entertainment
I've got". Yea, flies!

This afternoon the sun hit a large opening of moss on rock just
right. After a bunch of photos I settled on this one. Love
the close up setting on the Tek4 camera.

This one goes in the Whoops file. It was getting late in
the day and I was pushing myself too hard to get to end of
trail. Sometimes that destructo high gets to ya and make hasty
decisions that you end up regretting. Ach-hem [takes drink].
Long story I won't bore you about why my chainsaw
bar got stuck in the back cut. It just is. You get overconfident,
thinking you're some kinda looper and this is what happens.

So I unbolted the bar from the saw engine and will fit another
bar and chain to cut this one free. And have the cut tree
fall in a highly unpredictable way most likely. I'm still toying
with the idea of chopping it free with an axe. I'll think about
it tomorrow.

Ahh, the southern afternoon view down the western trail.

Beaver Sign

I was clearing trail again today and came across a bunch of sugar maple saplings. Rather I stumbled across a bunch of former saplings as the local beaver mafia had 'taken care' of them.

What's that insect doing?

It's a bit hard to see, but the beaver drag trail (below) shows a bread crumb trail of wood chips. It's the on ramp for the flooded lowland beaver freeway to the overdeveloped beaver condo complex. They got skating rink and everything.

You win this time, beaver!!!

Guess you won't be needing this flooded

beaver freeway for a while. Sorry!

Beaver 1: Bill 1

In the morning I heard rifle fire of deer hunters not far off. The afternoon was quiet and am happy to say that I watched four deer grazing nearby. They only stopped when I stopped to watch them. They went back to eating when I started to toss logs left and right again.

Leaves in Ice

Last night gave us a good frost and surface freeze of the many woodland ponds.

Back on the Trails Again

Starting back into the trail re-blazin' and clearing groove.

I feel like an animal scratching my way through the forest, throwing sticks and logs to the side with saws and blades for teeth and claws.

I pity the wood that gets in my fevered trail-clearing state. Rocks are sometimes a different story. It's like they've got a mind of their own. And sometimes one will say to me, "I'm staying right here". You win...this time, rock. Gone are the days where you could buy rock and stump clearing sticks of dynamite over the counter at Canadian Tire. That and your 12 gauge pepper gun. The good ole days.

I've declared a Jihad on those spikey, dead hemlock branches that threaten to impale me at every turn. This is my new boot-to-the-head workout.


After a day working the trails I can take a picture that's destined to be the centrepiece of my tabloid TV 15 minute segment....

We Gots Moss

With much rain comes temporary runoff creeks.

I think they're called woodland 'seeps'.

Clearing trail yesterday and came across some nice moss. There's moss everywhere on wood and rocks, really. Though I rarely take the time to appreciate it.

It was handy to use the close up feature of the Tek4 camera. A tripod is a good idea.

Moss on hemlock stump.

Lichen (left) and moss (right) on granite covered in red oak leaves.

FMO Platform

I've gone on a bit about the FMO and the work I've done on it.

Here's a whacky innovation to solve some space issues. I've built a sort of levitating platform that I can raise and lower by ropes and pulleys.

It's meant as a storage platform for either people or supplies. By having it on a pulley, I can raise it up to the rafter ties (as it is in the photo), or even down a few feet, and still walk under the clear space below. It can be lowered to within a foot of the the floor and secured for seating. Though I think two people sitting on it is the weight limit. Should post a sign somewhere....

Haven't worked out all the pulley system stuff yet and may try another system when I install one on the other side.

There's also another rope and pulley shown in the photo for raising and lowering the ladder/stair ('lair') to access attic storage.

No Hunting Posted

Due to time constraints and budget issues, we settled on 20 off-the-shelf signs instead of the 40 of my design. The Deerwood logo might appear again in some future signage.... Boo-hoo!

Today I went into town to buy some signs. I wasn't too surprised to find that most stores were sold out of 'no hunting' and 'tresspassers will be shot' signs. So, I got an assortment of signs and some red paint for spraying the red dot on trees which signifies a boundary not to be crossed. I think.


And I went out and marked rough property lines with all that stuff. Got a few soakers, but at least it didn't rain. It did hail, though.

Deerwood FMO Status

I've gone about as far I'm going to on FMO construction this year.

The exterior siding will wait until...some point in the future.

Now it's time to clean up and organize every little thing inside the place.

I'll make full use of my dry storage container. That is, once I've dried it out from the flood.

Using a chainsaw tool to stir peanut butter. Yum.

No Hunting

A forest manager's work is never done.

I believe hunting season for deer begins today - November 1st.

Already got the dayglo orange baseball cap.

As Deerwood Estate is a forest preserve, I want to post 'NO HUNTING' signs around the property. I've come up with a draft version (below) and just need Ma Pocock's approval to do some colour printing. I figure the cheapest option is to print onto paper then get the paper sealed in plastic. Then, mount the signs on plywood backing for posting along the property line.

I think the doe and fawn image captures the
Deerwood philosophy of forest preservation.

The doe and fawn image took me most of yesterday to transfer from a photo. I'm no graphics whiz, but I'm satisfied with the result. It's difficult to communicate a complex message with simple visuals. I hope I've succeeded. As it's pre-approval, there may be another version.

Camera On!

Yaup, I got me a new camera.

I held out for cash and a camera with rugged specs in the hopes it will survive the punishment I give. The Ryobi Tek4 is supposedly, shock/water/dust proof. Time will tell.

Here's a picture of trees along Deerwood's south ridge. Most of the leaves are gone on this wet and windy day.

Burning Through Books

One of the upsides to the big flood of much of my stuff in storage is that I now have a whack of books to use as paper for starting wood stove fires.

Hey, it's good quality paper and it won't go to waste.

Right now I'm on Plato's "Early Socratic Dialogues". I read a little, then tear out, and crumple the pages. It may take me a while to get through the whole western canon, but I won't stop trying.

Storage Issues

I opened up my 'dry storage' container to discover 1/2" pool of water on the floor yesterday.

I've taken the day off my day job to discover the cause and start to fix it. I suspect it's the eaves trough run off pipe which travels along the side of the container outside of the vapour barrier. Tuck tape can only seal so much when water pools along seams.

Water damage has destroyed quite a bit of my art collection.

Gone gone gone.

'Red Squirrel'

'Red Squirrel'

Throwing rocks at a chiding squirrel,
I prefer the 'shotgun method'.

Bill Pocock, 2009

The Roar

I stood on the steps of Deerwood's FMO last night and looked up at the sky.

It was full of stars. A velvet blanket with a billion suns.

Then I let in the faint sound of vehicles speeding north and south along the 400 highway. It's so strange to be surrounded by the wild and yet hear the low roar of civilization so near. Living in the city, the roar always in the background. My mind can filter out the noise, and only notice it by trying. It's an inescapable hell of sorts. But in the city it's like living inside a machine.

Though, I must admit, there's a part of me which is reassured by the sound. It's also a comfort to go deeper into the woods and listen as the roar dies away.

Who Are You?

Yesterday I had a nice philosophical conversation - part of which had me saying, "I'm a cloud".

So it was interesting last night to entertain notions of interior design of the FMO as I began construction of a ladder/stair ('lair'). This combined with drop down shelves reminded me of a mighty, morphin' performance space for Greek dramas and Mozart's Don Giovanni in particular. The wood stove (newly lit) represented the fires of hell below the descending lair from the gods above.

I said to myself, "I am, I am...".

All in the interest of space. I'm reminded of C.G. Jung's thirty year build of his home on the shores of Lake Geneva as the subconscious revelation of self and wonder what other embedded messages are formed within my architecture.

O, the satisfaction of design/build!

Wet, Wet, Wet

It's been raining at Deerwood since I don't know when.

One of the good things about the rain is pools of water forming on the trails indicate where I'll have to eventually bridge or divert water in order to maintain traversable trails.

So, today I plan to walk the entire Deerwood trail system and stake 2x2 posts at the water boundaries. This way, I'll know how long the bridging needs to be.

Ideally, I'd like to drop nearby trees for this purpose. The best time of year to do this is in winter when the soggy areas are frozen. Though, the trees need to have the bark removed so they don't decay as quickly. My bark spud tree-debarker only works if the tree was cut down in spring or summer, though. That's when the tree's sap flows and allows the bark to be peeled off. If cut in the fall or winter, a drawknife if needed to take the bark off. Using the drawknife is much more difficult than using a bark spud.

drawknife (source: caribooblades.com)

Autumn Colour

Falling, colourful tree leaves have come and soon will be gone from Cottage Country.

If you have the time and opportunity, Muskoka and Parry Sound districts make for a beautiful tour though small towns on back roads.

'B I L L P O C O C K'

My postings are slowing a bit at MOSSONWOOD because I've begun an additional blog to capture my creative activities which I've simply called 'BILLPOCOCK'. Click and see me some time.

Meanwhile, I've got the day off my day job due to thunderstorms and high winds (bad for seafaring). I plan to make a start of screwing the 1/2" plywood to the interior of FMO at Deerwood.

Some drawings to guide my cutting around the attic windows. As I need to cut these somewhat straight, I'm going to do that in Ma Pocock's garage, then transport them to the FMO. I don't think hand sawn would give me the design effect I'm looking for....

No Waste

The FMO, which I'm starting to conceive of as a tidy little contemporary art gallery in the woods, as the interior work grinds on.

Because I'm budgeting every building material so close to actual without surplus, the finish becomes elongated as resource scrambles bog things down. I just barely had enough insulation. I just got a new pack of staples, need more tape, and I'll be able to scavenge the last of the vapour barrier poly.

I don't like to carry waste out of the woods.

So, no waste if possible.

More Insulation!

I've spent the last few days finishing off the nailing lumber on the interior of Deerwood's FMO and installing insulation. There's only a half bundle needed to finish it. I could toss in some surplus pink fibreglass insulation, but I like the Johns Manville while non-embalming fume stuff better. Time to go back to Rona.

Not the easiest thing in the world getting up and down into the upper section of the FMO without a ladder. Sort of twisted my ankle all over again coming down the last time. Better strap the high boots tighter for a while.

More Insulation

Heritage Forest: Part Duh

I announced on this blog some time ago that I wanted to call my forestry practice, 'Heritage Forest'. Well, a business title search on that name came up with at least a dozen competing variations already registered.

So, 'Heritage Forest' is out. I really should do more research and take more action before I blab about my intentions. A fool, but not an old fool yet.

Steve's Big Drop

Outdoorsman buddy, Steve Tso, came up from Toronto.

He heard there was a big hemlock I was hesitant to drop. Hard to tell where it would fall, surrounded by trees to get hung-up on.

Dangerous.

Steve took the chainsaw and pushed me aside.

"Watch and learn, man".

Check out the action...

Soggy Trails

I took the day off my day job due to pouring rain.

That gave me time to work on Deerwood trails. Was a bit miffed that some trail sections I'd just cleared had pooled water in the middle. This wouldn't do. I week's work wasted. The trails just can't get bogged down like that.

So, the morning was spent blazing new trails, and the afternoon chainsawing them.

I think it's time I switched to the new 20 inch chainsaw bar - the sharpened 16" chain cuts on a downward curve....

And the new trails are smoother, more direct routes, so it's all for the best. I think designing trails is one of my favourite things. The way the forest is experienced when trailing through. Going off trail is always an adventure.

Turtle Up

Yesterday, whilst trudging along a backcountry road, I came across an overturned turtle at the side of the road.

At first I thought it was dead, but then I saw the head and legs-a-movin'. I guess it got flipped like a beer cap by a passing car and struggled in vain to right itself.

So, I was happy to play god, flip it over with my foot and be back on my way. Didn't even thank me.... Anyhoo, my good deed for the day momentarily interrupting my otherwise evil doing.

Fall Down

The mornings see frost now and then and the tree leaves begin to turn colour.

The last few weeks have been a nice change from a moist spring and summer. Though the plants are suffering, wilting and dying away. The lush forest undergrowth wilts and I can see through woods quite a bit better.

This weekend I finished cutting and splitting the wood for Deerwood's FMO and cleared some trails in the process. It's a luxurious feeling to ride an ATV through the woods or even walk it without tripping every few strides.

Ah...to ski the trails in winter.

Zen and the Art of Chainsaw Management

These days I'm chainsawing trees either for mill logs or fuelwood.

Because the trees in Deerwood are so tall and close together, they'll tend to fall into one another instead of falling to the ground when I cut its trunk. That means the tree is 'hung up' and getting it down is one of the hardest and dangerous tasks in logging.

I've bought and used a cable come-along to try and hand winch cut trees off their stumps, but it's damn hard if not impossible sometimes.

So, in order to solve the problem, I cut the already severed trunk in a series of extreme angles that is my best chance of getting the tree vertical and possibly falling out of the tree its hung up on. Cutting into an already cut tree is very unpredictable and just plain dangerous.

You really don't know where the tree will fall once it's cut through as the unsupported stump will fall in another unpredictable direction.

I found myself repeating a sort of montra, "I'm ready to die...I'm ready to die...". But the scarier part is realizing that I probably wouldn't die (at least not right away), but be trapped and crippled instead. It would probably take half a day for someone to find me. And for those twelve hour and beyond, I'd likely prefer death.

But as "I'm ready to die...I'm ready to be maimed..." doesn't roll off the tongue so well, I finally went with just, "I'm ready...I'm ready...I'm ready" which may be of some comfort unless you're actually not...ready.

Da Plane!

Thanks to the transport help of buddy, David 'Hardcore' Greene, I came into possession of an old Aldinger wood planer. Thanks also to buddy Steve Milne for telling me about this heavy duty planer in the first place.

You can tell from the photo below (courtesy of Mr. Greene) that it needs some fixin' to be in working order. Just a little rust. I find the expression on my face amusing in a sick sort of way.

"What the hell am I gonna do with this?"

The guy who sold it to me gave me the wrong dimension by just a couple of feet. So, the skid I built which it now sits on in the forest is too small to build a crate around. That's how I plan to store it. In a crate. Outside. Then uncrate it when I need to use it. That hick enough for ya?

I could always solve my problems by pulling it over and be crushed to death.

That's too easy.

Close Encounters of the Bear Kind

I like blackberries. Bears like blackberries.

Yesterday I was walking along the Deerwood road and peeked in to see if my favourite blackberry bush had any new stuff for me to chew on.

As I reach into the dense bush, a black, furry blur hops off into the woods. Didn't move like a fisher or a cat. No tail.

It was one of the bear cubs.

BEAR CUB!!!!!!!!

Suddenly I was on RED ALERT because momma had to be nearby. Black bear attacks, of course, will most likely occur when a momma bear believes one of her cubs is threatened.

With hand on sword grip I hastily moved on, singing "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy" in a loud, but not a threatening way.

And then the bear cub starts loping back to the blackberry bush - towards me.

I walked (hastily) down the road (hastily) not seeing momma bear (hastily) anywhere in sight and got away. But where was momma bear then? At such a young age, I doubt bear cubs are often separated from their mother. As it is bear season, I wonder if momma bear is now in the form of sausages. If so, it doesn't look good for the three cubs minus momma.

Bear Sausage

Just when you thought you'd had enough bear....

JR over at work killed a bear a couple days ago. Skinned it, cut up the 150 lb bear into 50 lbs of meat and made sausages.

He came in with some this morning and I enjoyed bear sausage on the boat to the job site. Thanks, JR.

What does it taste like? Don't taste like chicken.

Boy, let me tell ya, that is some goood eatin'.

Wood Fuelin'

Today was a productive Labour Day.

Now that chainsaw season is on, I'm in a rush to get a bunch of wood cut and split for winter's fuel.

The general rule is to cut and stack the wood for a year of air drying before you burn it. Wet wood doesn't burn too good, see? It smokes mostly and it lines the chimney with something called creosote which can cause dangerous chimney fires.

Because of this, I'm mostly cutting down standing deadwood trees along with cherry and birch trees which will burn okay even if they're wet.

So, today I finished dropping and cutting up a bunch of trees, then used the ATV wagon to haul the wood to the office area. Then I towed the gas-powered log splitter to the office along the forest trail I'd just cleared with the chainsaw and split about a bush cord of the stuff. Now all I have to do is stack it like in the photo.

I don't know how many cords of wood I'll need this winter. And I really should be stacking enough for two winters - so next year's will dry properly.

After I'm done with the office wood, I need to cut, split, haul and stack about five cords for Ma Pocock's fuelwood for two winters hence.

And before you start screaming at me for poluting the environment, using gas to cut and split the wood, I gotta tell you I don't think I could do it all by hand. Chop down trees with an axe, Swede saw each 12 inch log section, then maul split each one? Maybe when I retire and have nothing else to do all day. Or I get married....

You know what the really hard part is? Comedy. No - carrying each cut log from the forest floor to the wagon trail over uneven ground covered in webwork of cut branches ('slash') and knocked over saplings. Many, many times and near tripping all the way. It's a pain in the ass, tiring, but I'm grateful I have the ATV to haul the stuff away.

Still, it's better than office work.

Black Cherries

I decided to see what all the fuss is about with the black cherries.

So, I jumped up and grabbed a handful from the cherry tree beside the office today and had a chew. Wasn't sure if they were okay for humans to eat, so I only ate few.

And you know what? The ripe ones - they're very small- were pretty sweet. Not too tart at all. I can see why bears will bend a sapling over to get to the fruit.

The pits of these wild cherries are about 90% of the fruit's volume. But the flesh is quite nice. It's an acquired taste.

Pileated Woodpeckers

Now and then I stumble into a special moment in the woods and time just stands still.

Today was warm and sunny. I took a break from chainsawing trail to mark some standing deadwood. Now that chainsaw season is open, I need to cut fuelwood for the Deerwood Forest Management Office woodstove chop chop.

I wandered along the trail into the northern compartment, spray painting a tree here and a tree there. Then I stopped at the sound of commotion above. Two, then three pileated woodpeckers were falling all over each other, squawking in their strange way in the top canopy branches above. These are the grand daddy woodpeckers of the forest and not very common to see. Part of my job as a forest manager is to develop an inviting habitat for these particular birds. So, it was a real treat for me to stop and watch them above.

When excited, they`re like sugar-powered Comic-Con nerds
with red Mohawk wigs.

At first I assumed they were looking for insects, though not pecking the tree bark. But they definitely excited about something, swooping from branch to branch. They were going from one black cherry to the next. Then I realized that they were actually eating the ripe cherries - I didn't know they ate fruit! Even though those cherry trees are infected with the deadly black knot disease, I began to wonder if I should cut them down after all. Something to consider.

And that`s when everything slowed down to a stop, watching the woodpeckers eating the cherries above, shafts of sunlight streaming through the trees on a perfect day.

(for more information on pileated woodpecker habitat, download this MNR document).

Bears to the Left of Me, Bears to the Right....

You might laugh when I say Deerwood is crawling with bears. I know the truth of it.

Was walking a Deerwood trail in the deciduous compartment yesterday when I heard a sudden crashing to my right.

At first I couldn't spot what or where it was coming from. It was the clumsy sound that only a bear makes in a rush through the forest. Then another crashing added to it - above the forest floor.

Then I saw them, two bears heard my approach from 25 metres away and were barreling down separate tree trunks toward ground. Like a pair of over sized monkeys in bear costumes. I put the whistle in my mouth and got ready to blow, dead still. They must have hit the ground and stopped, waited.

I walked along the trail a few feet and another crashing sound up and to the left as another bear zoomed down a tree trunk. You might say I was surrounded by bears.

Whistle in mouth, sword on back, I walked forward, shuffling my feet over the leaves so they could hear my movement. Because of the dense bush I couldn't see them, but I knew they were close.