The end of a giant friend ~ October 15, 1987

David Heiller

We lost a friend on Saturday, a century old friend that we have known for the past six years.

When we moved to our homestead in May, 1981, this friend welcomed us. He stood erect to the southwest of the house, leaning over the house towering above us, a full 70 feet. He made us feel at home, just as he made the family of orioles feel at home in their swaying nest our first two summers here. Orioles love elm trees.

After the elm was felled, it started snowing.  
Noah grabbed an umbrella and played 
jack-in-the-box in the hollow stump. 
The hollow stump held flowers for many 
years before that too, had to be removed.

But the next year, 1984, the orioles did not return. Our elm tree showed us why. A few of the outer limbs had turned brown in June, their leaves shriveling too early in the summer.

The orioles weren’t taking any chances. Dutch elm disease had arrived.

Still, for the next two summers, the elm stood in its place. It shaded our house so well in the summer that even the scorchers of July wouldn’t get our home hot. The inside temperature never rose to 80 degrees. And less fretful birds, like rose breasted grosbeaks, weren’t afraid to pass through and rest in the high branches of the American elm.

The kids didn’t mind the withering limbs either. I tied a heavy rope onto the lowest branch, using an 18-foot section of extension ladder. Like most projects I construct, the swing swung in a cock-eyed pattern. I had tied the two rope ends to the same branch, one about a foot higher than the other, so that no matter how carefully you started your ride at the bottom, by the second or third swing up, you would ride sideways, and have to hop off to avoid the heavy elm trunk. A trunk that is 37 inches in diameter, and 10 feet, four inches in circumference, can’t get out of the way.

By last summer, only one branch leafed out on the mighty elm. When the rope on the swing broke, I raised the ladder again, and took it down. No point in putting up a new one.

Deane and Kathryn, masters of  their trades.
Many wonderful things at our homestead
would never have happened 
(or happened so well) without the aid of the Hillbrands!

Last Saturday afternoon, Deane Hillbrand and his brother, Steve, came ever to cut the tree down. It had dropped some of its smaller branches on our house during the summer thunderstorms. One of its main limbs would have flattened our house.

Deane brought along one of his Stihl chainsaws, with a 20-inch bar. Deane builds log homes for a living. His chainsaws cut like butter knives. His eye for a cut is usually perfect. He can, (and has), built homes without using a single nail. He thought he could drop the elm tree to the southwest, even though it leaned to the northeast, over our house. Cindy and I trusted Deane.

Steven climbed up the tree, and attached a chain around one of the two main limbs of the tree. To this chain he attached another chain, plus a 75-foot cable. We attached the chain to a stump in the garden, with a come-a-long link to pull and steer the elm. We attached the cable to Steve’s truck, which we parked farther out in the garden.

Deane eyed the elm for several minutes, then made his notch cut.

“It’s hollow,” he yelled as he hit into the center part of trunk. Large chunks of rotten wood flew out from the chainsaw.

Steve looked worried, as he tightened the come-a-long. He stood in the path of the elm, 50 feet away. The hollow center would make the cutting more difficult. There wasn’t much of a hinge for the tree to fall on.

Deane went to work on the other side. He cut in one side, then the other. He pounded wedges that he had made from two by six boards into the cut. Steve pulled tighter. I popped the truck into gear. I could see light through the hollow trunk, where Deane had cut. Only a narrow band of wood on either side of the center kept the elm standing. Deane pounded more on the wedges, used his saw a little more on each side.

Another woods-y adventure with Dean, Kathryn and 
Steve, along with our kids and Steve's daughter Leah. 
(and Joey too)

“Is it coming any?” Steve called. His voice had an edge to it.

“About an inch and a half,” Deane hollered back.

Steve smiled at me. “It’s come an inch and a half,” he repeated, even though I had heard Deane too.

Deane made his final cut, and Steve nodded firmly to me to get the truck in gear and keep going. He cranked the come-a-long, the handle now turning with a click-click-click. The elm swayed, and Steve ran, and I drove the truck out of the garden as the earth shook and trembled with the fallen giant.

Sure enough, the tree’s core was hollow for a good 14 inches across. Steve’s kids and our kids climbed onto the branches, while Cindy and I stood back and marveled at Deane’s skill. Everyone had held their breath, except Deane.

We’ve already started cutting up the elm. The hollow trunk will make a nice pot for geraniums. The wood has warmed our house the past few nights. It is perfectly seasoned for burning. The elm will keep us warm this winter. That’s a good feeling, to know the elm tree that kept us so cool in the hot summer will I keep us warm this winter.

But we sure will miss that tree. It was a good friend.