Lumberjack

In the pine ridden forests of Oregon in 1883, a young lumberjack and his toddling son,

along with his crew wandered down a dark path covered with snow, surrounded by towers of

trees, from which the birds watched in silence like cautious scouts. The young man’s beard

encased his face in a cover of warmth, but the icy fangs of the Cascade Region still sank deep

into his skin. It was now the beginnings of winter and the logging season was approaching its

inception once more. They left camp five hours ago and had now reached their worksite.

“Let’s get to work boys!” the young lumberjack yelled to his men, and they all picked up their

heavy axes and made their way to the giant tree they prepared to be felled the day before. All

the branches of the 300 foot tall giant had been removed, and it had even cost them a life. Now,

the lumberjacks approached the tree with immense caution. The young lumberjack and another

young man began working the front cut out of the tree while two other men worked the back cut.

A few hours into the day they pulled out the misery whip, a long flexible saw that two

men would operate. They are dangerous and difficult to handle, and both operators must stay

alert. With the saw they would cut a giant wedge out of the tree once the bark was removed and

a cut was made with axes. Usually these trees are cut in pieces, but the young lumberjack

needed this tree down, and could not wait any longer. He had a quota to meet.

Back and forth and back and forth the saw went between the two men, slowly cutting into

the towering tree. The tree seemed to quake and tremble with anger while the loggers worked

its mighty trunk away.

 “Why the hell are we working at this tree so hard anyway, we oughta get up there and do

some section cuts. I’m right tired of bustin’ my ass on this piece of shit, with the wind blowin’ it

all around, I’m damn near ready to saw my own arms off.”

“I s’pose the boss man needs it down, something or other. All I know is she’s-a coming

down today, and we’s the one’s with the saw.”

“I ‘spect you’re right, I’d like to be the boss once in a while,” the first sawyer said, and the

second just laughed, his lips curling up to his ears to reveal his snowy white teeth.

And so the sawyers bantered back and forth while they sawed away at the mighty base.

Meanwhile, slipping away from his inattentive and busy father, the young toddler

wandered through the snowy pines playfully, undaunted by the imposing height of the trees

around him. With his walking stick he poked and prodded at the snow capped boughs of the

Ponderosas, and to his content, they released teardrops of snow on his head. In the distance he

could hear the clamor and shouts of working men, but that was not his concern at the moment.

For a while he wandered like this further and further from the men, until soon he had wondered

from their minds as well.

The tree had been cut about halfway through at this point, and a wintery storm was

approaching. A seven foot deep wedge of wood had been removed from the trunk and the tree

was now ready to be dropped, but in the wake of the approaching storm they decided to

evacuate the area.

“Let’s get these boys out of this cut. I don’t like the way this storm’s talking,”the young

Father said to his hooktender, “I fear we won’t have time to make her bed, we better clear out.”

The men quickly evacuated the area around the giant and retreated into camp, like an

army cautious of an ambush.

 Finally realizing the absence of his young son, the young lumberjack panicked, and he

and his men searched the area calling his name, but he was nowhere to be found. The giant

pine now climbed into the sky above the storm clouds and the top could not be seen. The

blizzard beat on its weakened trunk endlessly.

The young boy sobbed as he hid under the cover of a large bough, calling for his father.

He peaked out of the branches and caught a glimpse of him, and he left his tumultuous shelter.

His father, turning and seeing him, began to run toward him as a deafening crack filled the air.

The weakened trunk of the immense giant had given way under the pressure of the storm, and

the snapping of the trunk shuddered through the snowy forest.

The loggers watched in horror while the father ran towards his son, tripping along

bushes and shrubs, struggling to make his way between the maze of trees and the impenetrable

wall of snow imposed by the storm. The young child was trapped in the deepening banks.

The tree fell, directly toward the young boy, being caught by smaller trees and networks

of branches, and with each shudder of the mighty trunk it fell closer to the ground. The young

father was almost to his son, with merely yards to go. He lunged for his boy, and finally, with

one last slip, the tree slammed to the ground.

 Lumberjack (revised)

Word count: 1,777

Previous word count: 894

Revised section is in yellow highlight.

In the pine ridden forests of Oregon in 1883, a young lumberjack and his toddling son,

along with his crew wandered down a dark path covered with snow, surrounded by towers of

trees, from which the birds watched in silence like cautious scouts. The young man’s beard

encased his face in a cover of warmth, but the icy fangs of the Cascade Region still sank deep

into his skin. It was now the beginnings of winter and the logging season was approaching its

inception once more. They left camp five hours ago and had now reached their worksite.

“Let’s get to work boys!” the young lumberjack yelled to his men, and they all picked up their

heavy axes and made their way to the giant tree they prepared to be felled the day before. All

the branches of the 300 foot tall giant had been removed, and it had even cost them a life. Now,

the lumberjacks approached the tree with immense caution. The young lumberjack and another

young man began working the front cut out of the tree while two other men worked the back cut.

A few hours into the day they pulled out the misery whip, a long flexible saw that two

men would operate. They are dangerous and difficult to handle, and both operators must stay

alert. With the saw they would cut a giant wedge out of the tree once the bark was removed and

a cut was made with axes. Usually these trees are cut in pieces, but the young lumberjack

needed this tree down, and could not wait any longer. He had a quota to meet.
 Back and forth and back and forth the saw went between the two men, slowly cutting into

the towering tree. The tree seemed to quake and tremble with anger while the loggers worked

its mighty trunk away.

“Why the hell are we working at this tree so hard anyway, we oughta get up there and do

some section cuts. I’m right tired of bustin’ my ass on this piece of shit, with the wind blowin’ it

all around, I’m damn near ready to saw my own arms off.”

“I s’pose the boss man needs it down, something or other. All I know is she’s-a coming

down today, and we’s the one’s with the saw.”

“I ‘spect you’re right, I’d like to be the boss once in a while,” the first sawyer said, and the

second just laughed, his lips curling up to his ears to reveal his snowy white teeth.

And so the sawyers bantered back and forth while they sawed away at the mighty base.

Meanwhile, slipping away from his inattentive and busy father, the young toddler

wandered through the snowy pines playfully, undaunted by the imposing height of the trees

around him. With his walking stick he poked and prodded at the snow capped boughs of the

Ponderosas, and to his content, they released teardrops of snow on his head. In the distance he

could hear the clamor and shouts of working men, but that was not his concern at the moment.

For a while he wandered like this further and further from the men, until soon he had wondered

from their minds as well.

The tree had been cut about halfway through at this point, and a wintery storm was

approaching. A seven foot deep wedge of wood had been removed from the trunk and the tree

was now ready to be dropped, but in the wake of the approaching storm they decided to

evacuate the area.

 “Let’s get these boys out of this cut. I don’t like the way this storm’s talking,” the young

Father said to his hooktender, “I fear we won’t have time to make her bed, we better clear out.”

The men quickly evacuated the area around the giant and retreated into camp, like an

army cautious of an ambush.

Finally realizing the absence of his young son, the young lumberjack panicked, and he

and his men searched the area calling his name, but he was nowhere to be found. The giant

pine now climbed into the sky above the storm clouds and the top could not be seen. The

blizzard beat on its weakened trunk endlessly.

The young boy sobbed as he hid under the cover of a large bough, calling for his father.

He peaked out of the branches and caught a glimpse of him, and he left his tumultuous shelter.

His father, turning and seeing him, began to run toward him as a deafening crack filled the air.

The weakened trunk of the immense giant had given way under the pressure of the storm, and

the snapping of the trunk shuddered through the snowy forest.

The loggers watched in horror while the father ran towards his son, tripping along

bushes and shrubs, struggling to make his way between the maze of trees and the impenetrable

wall of snow imposed by the storm. The young child was trapped in the deepening banks.

The tree fell, directly toward the young boy, being caught by smaller trees and networks

of branches, and with each shudder of the mighty trunk it fell closer to the ground. The young

father was almost to his son, with merely yards to go. He lunged for his boy, and finally, with

one last slip, the tree slammed to the ground.

The loggers scrambled to the tree in horror, and the young boy’s cries were lost to the

massive storm. The tree sat like a massive wall through the dense forest, and saw dust and

snow fell in unison from the sky, littering the ground with flecks of gold in a sea of white. The
men happened upon the boy in their search, but the father was nowhere to be found. One burly

logger lifted the boy into his arms and said, “It’ll be ok son. Let’s get you back to the cabins.”

The storm had stopped, and the loggers began their sullenly march to the campsite. The

loggers talked in hushed voices amongst themselves on the way back.

“It’s a damn shame. We had a hog killin’ time with that ole’ son of a bitch. That poor

boy… it’s a damn shame. A damn shame.” One particular logger said to his friend, as he

removed his wool cap. The men stared at their feet in quiet solemnity on their return to the

camp, and the gentle winter breeze rippled through their beards. The child wept into the hefty

loggers shoulder, while the big man awkwardly patted the young child’s back.

They finally reached the cabins, and the young boy was asleep in the loggers mighty

arms, so they laid him to rest in one of the bunks. The loggers silently moved to the mess hall in

the adjacent side of camp while the child slept, and their discussion began. The burly logger

took the head of the table, and the rest of the men slowly made their way to their seats.

“Colburn, fetch me some Arbuckle’s would ya?” he said with his face in his hands.

“Sure thing, Lewis,” the man replied.

“I ‘spect we gotta figger this one out on our own boys. This loggin’ trips turnt into a real

bone orchard son of a bitch.”

One younger man spoke up, “What’re we gonna do with the kid Colburn? Does he got a

momma?”

“Dammit yer right Harv. I ain’t got an idea on God’s green earth what to do.”

Another man, in his mid twenties stood.

“The boss kept a journal on him, I seen him writing in it ‘fore he went to bed damn near

every night. I ‘spect if we find him under that big ole’ piece o’ shit that killed him, we’d find the

name of his wife back home. That’d be a good start right, Colburn?”
 “Damn, yer right you sneaky ole’ son of a bitch. That idea is hotter’n a whorehouse on

nickel night. I say we head out there in the mornin’. The weather should hold up on us, the Good

Lord owes us that much.”

They reached a consensus to go find the father in the morning, and Lewis returned with

Colburn’s coffee.

Miles away in the forest, the young father awoke under the mighty tree. His leg was

pinned to the ground but the rest of him was unscathed, so between winces of pain he called for

help. None seemed to hear, so he cussed and scratched his head. He gathered twigs that he

could reach, until he had a huge pile next to him. He managed to spark a small fire in the snow

an arm’s length away from himself, and with this he kept warm. He looked around for a possible

way to remove himself, but nothing presented a way out. In the distance the howling of wolves

rang through the pines. The young father clutched his pocket knife and held it tightly.

The next morning the loggers prepared to set out to find the young man, and the boy

tagged along behind them as they journeyed back to the tree.

“Lennie did you hear them wolves last night? That was some downright crazy shit.

Sounded like they were tearing each other up or something.”

“Ah it was probly just a moose they found, I ‘spect. Them mooses can take a whole pack

o’ wolves yanno? I hear they seen moose in these parts that rise about ten feet at the neck.”

“That’s just a bunch o’ horse shit, there’s no way a moose could get that big.”

“Hell yeah there is. Yanno, one time I’s on muh way down to Boise, back in Idaho, and I

seen a moose off the side o’ te road takin’ down a bobcat.”

“You son of a bitch, is that real play or is you just bluffin’?”

 “No I mean it! That moose took that cat to town like a drunken whore on a whiskey

bottle.”

“Well damn that’s wild. I ‘spect it was a moose then!”

The banter continued like this until they were close at last to the tree.Colburn loudly

shouted to begin the search, and the men fanned out across the tree’s mighty trunk. Within a

few minutes one of the men shouted, “I got something over here,” and the loggers all rushed to

meet him.

In this small game trail in the ground lay the young father nearly frozen, and his leg still

pinned, with his fire still going, surrounded by the corpses of five wolves. He glanced at the

loggers, icicles in his beard, and said simply, “You sons of bitches gonna help me outta this or

what?”