It’s not easy to run in logging boots, and I was gasping for air as I ran down the main trail. When I hit the crest of the hill that led down to the stream, I saw something that sucked the remaining breath right out of my lungs. There stood three loggers in the fading evening sun, helplessly staring at our excavator as it sat waist deep in muck and water. I knew this was not the time for words, but the ugly sound that came from my mouth made their three heads turn my way.

Not an hour before, we were on another job discussing some of the details of where the wood was going when I saw Tom whip his hardhat into his pickup truck and speed off. I knew something was terribly wrong, then I heard that it had something to do with a sinking excavator. I could have never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be staring at the scene before me…..I did want to cry, but I had to fight the urge.

I slowly walked down the hill, hand over my mouth taking it all in. What were we going to do? Their first thought was to bring the feller buncher over to pull it up, or at least break the suction created by the oozing gray clay. The two guys on the job had already tried to problem solve with the bulldozer and got nowhere, except for deeper in the water. Here we were, in the middle of the woods, sun setting, rain on the way and hunting season about to start in two days. I’ll tell you Tom was not a happy camper, or should I say hunter.

By the time I had arrived on the scene, the guys at the other job where loading the feller buncher onto the lowbed to bring it over to this job to aid in the rescue. We worked into the night trying to save the sinking machine and we’ll never know if we made it worse, but around eight thirty, we just had to give up. We left one tired bulldozer, one frustrated feller buncher, and one suffering excavator alone in the darkened night.

The first thing the next day I called our friends at the DEP and they sent a fine gentleman down to survey the situation and make sure that we weren’t bringing any harm to the environment. He was actually quite happy with what little leakage there was, and helped us by creating a barrier to prohibit any damage, should something come gushing out. Phew! that alleviated one of our main concerns. He hung around for quite some time helping out with the whole rescue mission.

It took us two and half days, one rented excavator and a bulldozer to rescue our helpless puppy. It was a sad sight to see the excavator, covered with mud and debris, resting on the lowbed for the trip to Scarborough, and back to our friends at Milton Caterpillar.

If you do business with Milton Cat in Scarborough, you can ask to see the picture of our excavator. I heard they blew up one of my photos and hung it on the “Wall of Fame”, but Tom called it the “Wall of Shame”. In reality it IS the “Wall of Fame” for what got us in the predicament was the fact that we were diligently closing out our harvesting job and properly practicing our BMP’s (Best Management Practices) We use our excavator to close out the job, by clearing up any ruts left by the skidders, and placing water bars in the trails that lead to and from the stream. The water bars divert water out into the forest floor, instead of moving silt and debris into the stream. I saw one job that another logging company had done, where they failed to install water bars and whole rutty rivers were created all around the land in places where Mother Nature never intended.

Our equipment is our lifeblood, needier than some women, and more daring than some men, or vice versa (I had to pick those words carefully!) Mastering that energy makes the job run smoother, but sheer disasters are always inevitable and that is why safety is paramount. The estimate came back at $60,000.00 which seemed shocking and then not. I guess one could compare it to a hospital stay, some surgery and physical therapy to get back to work. I wonder what the price tag on that would be.

Whenever the guys on the crew tease me about grabbing a chainsaw and getting out on the landing, my reply has always been "there's no place for me to plug my chainsaw in." It always brings forth a few good chuckles and then we all get back to work. A true logger knows how and when to use a chainsaw.

So I felt a certain sense of empowerment when I won my own chainsaw at "Higmo's Saw Mill Days" a few months ago. That's right, out of a pack of eagerly waiting loggers and foresters I had the good fortune to win the chainsaw!

If you haven't experienced it, "Higmo's Saw Mill Days" is a great fall activity that's not only fun, but educational. Young and old alike come out to enjoy the great food, the display of antique trucks, log splitters and a good old fashioned saw mill demonstration by Allen Higgins and his crew.

There were members of SWOAM (Small Woodlands Owners Association of Maine), and speakers from the Maine Forest Service there to answer questions and educate. I enjoyed Pete Lammert's presentation on log lengths and grades. He also had some great examples of different types of wood. Chunks of Birdseye and other unique examples of what we can find in our woodlots.

The day wrapped up with a tour of their woodlot in a horse drawn wagon while Pete Lammert and Ken Canfield from MFS offered insight along the trip.

If you are looking to find some vintage style boards, Higmo's in Brunswick can fill your order. Their circular saw makes boards the old fashioned way, and contractors can get custom orders filled in a heartbeat. We all know that "old" is the new "new". They are also eager to offer psychiatric sessions, write songs, and give free advice…just don’t, I repeat, don’t ask anyone to cut their hair!

Thanks to my fellow loggers and friends, Paula and Allen, I now have my own chainsaw. So now, when the guys tell me to take out my chainsaw, I can say "shucks, I left it at home!", because after using it a couple of times, I now know that conventional logging is not for the faint of back.