Fall of 1983. Near Belmont,MS.,close to the Natchez Trace... I was nervous as a cat as I started winching. Daddy had cut a huge white oak,probably near 4 ft at the butt,and hed cut it off at 36 feet as it was too big to drag out in one piece. Daddy had moved off to the side of the skid trail,about 15 yards to my left so he could watch me and give me hand signals like an air traffic controller. I was on a fairy steep slope,pointing uphill. He gave me the wind it up signal... I held the brake with my left foot and pulled up on the winch lever with my right hand... The winch drum started turning and slowly took the slack out of the mainline. It got tight,but the winch stopped turning. I looked over at Daddy and he was standing with his head cocked sideways,propping on his saw with his left hand,with his right hand on his hip,...looking at me. Now,... Im only 13,but Ive already been skidding a little for a couple years now and I know I need to give the skidder some fuel to make the winch turn under a load,but with him watching Im afraid of how much fuel! Anyway,... I release the winch,and start winching again...,and again it stops when it begins to strain... Then I hear it.... HEYYYYY!!!! I look over at Daddy and hes doing a jerking motion with his right hand,and he looks displeased...(Haha!) I shrug my shoulders as to say,What? He starts the jerking motion again... GIVE IT SOME $@#% FUEL AND WINCH IT IN!!! (remember the jerking motion) Now,I would NEVER jerk up and down on the winch lever,but he keeps giving me that motion? Okay then!!! I lay the fuel to it and JERK-JERK-JERK .... HEYYYYYYY!!!!!! I look over at him again,quizzically... Hmmm??? WHAT THE $&@! ARE YOU DOING? Well you said to jerk it? DONT EVER LET ME CATCH YOU DOING THAT AGAIN!!......(long pause)....Now,..give it a good bit of fuel and winch it in STEADILY... I nodded... Then I did as he said and sure enough,the big oak started coming to me. It bumped the fenders and I released the brake and started up the hill. I had to stop and drop it twice,and winch it up again when Id lose traction on the slope. Daddy paralleled me as I made the 518 top the hill. When I reached the top,Daddy slid the P-42 onto the floorboard behind my feet,and reached into the bib of his overalls to retrieve his Copenhagen. I was wondering if he was still mad... He got his dip and put the can back in the bib and said,You done good Den.. Thats as big a white oak as Ive cut in a while... Then he said,Gimme a ride out... I let the blade down and he stepped on it and nodded. I raised it back up and he sat on the hood and held onto a limb riser... He always rode there,with me looking at the back of his mountainous physique,with the gallus of his overalls slipping off his right shoulder,and that bushy head of hair.... My Dad...
Posted on: Thu, 05 Dec 2013 02:07:19 +0000
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