unstumped

It's possible that my lifelong passion for tree trimming and, more specifically, stump removal, can be traced to how utterly enthralled i was by chapter 3 of "Shane", as a child. Most critics would label that passage "human vs. nature", as Shane and Joe become obsessed with the removal of an ancient, monolithic tree stump. But i think it more rightly falls under the category "human vs. self", as their struggle is about exploring one's own limits.
I haven't re-read that passage since childhood, but its resonances have lost none of their impact. In very specific ways, it's subconsciously informed my own stump style (most notably, an aversion to mechanized aid). Not that i've never availed myself of chainsaws or vehicles with chains...but i'm most happy when it's just me, manual tools, a stump, and no heed of time's passage. Nor do i turn down help...but generally i prefer my stump crucibles to be solitary rather than with those who don't share the passion.
Many people prefer to not deal with a stump directly, choosing rather to let it rot, or even hasten that process with acid injections into the core. To me, that's like carefully nibbling away the biscuits of an oreo, then tossing away the creamy, yummy center. To be sure, the ape in me thrills to the climbing and denuding part of tree removal...but the moment you're alone with that naked stump, is usually when the job really begins.
The stump i removed over the past few days isn't the most titanic subterranean arboreal extraction i've ever essayed...but will serve as a lovely example of a lifetime's passion. Let's go down into the dirt.
This stump had decorated (or blighted) its owner's domestic landscape for eight years. Over two feet wide at the apex, it had acquired the appearance of a relic primed for removal. The visible rot seemed pronounced enough that one might be tempted to tear it apart with bare hands.
One would give up that tactic quickly. It was ash, a species i'd never dealt with. I brought out the stump remover's chief tool, a mattock. A long, thick handle topped by a pickax-like head, with one side often ax-like and the other a pick/digger. Rotted chunks fell away. Further swings revealed that the eighteen-inch core was stronger than most fresh trees.
I began digging around the base. Most stumps are removed this way, exposing and chopping the roots one by one. The easiest trees have roots close to the surface, spreading out like spokes on a wheel. A lot of systems are more like an inverted half-koosh, with roots that burrow deeper. The rarest system is a tap root, with one central root going straight down.
I soon discovered that this was a tap specimen, with a root close to two feet wide burrowing into the depths. There was also a four-inch surface root, and a few smaller ones.
After digging a foot or so around the base of the stump (except for the side that abutted a one-ton, half-buried boulder), i gathered more tools - two metal wedges, a sledge hammer, and a crowbar. A few more chunks slowly fell away, until i began concentrating my attention on a dark fissure that ran through the center of the stump. It proved to be weaker wood, and i was soon working my wedges, trying to split the stump in two. The greatest pitfall of this technique is being unable to extract a wedge. One of my wedges had a long handle, but the other almost got trapped a couple times. I made some headway, and even discovered a dirt hollow hidden in the stump. But it refused to split, so i went back to excavating. I discovered that the tap root, perhaps because of boulder-strewn soil, curved off to the left a couple feet down. I soon had an eighteen-inch section of its side exposed. Wood chunks began flying, and i was in the hardest physical stage of stump removal, when you have to just keep lifting and swinging your tool. The muscle core of most amateurs is only good for a few swings at a time, and is spent in a few minutes. I was a little out of shape myself.
It was during this section that i had my only contact with humanity. A neighbor came out, to go on an errand. I'd never met her, but she made some small talk. There was a spark of sexual energy, as is fitting between a woman and a half-naked, muscled man dripping in sweat and filth.
I hacked away, giving the stump an occasional whack with the sledge to test its vibratory quotient. At one point i was trying to push it forward, and my foot slipped, sprawling me across the stump. My forearm got scratched up. I knew that a prybar would separate the halves more quickly, but the only one i knew of was at my uncle's, a thirty-minute round trip. I guessed that it would take forty-five minutes with the tools i had, so kept at it. Finally, i tore away a section that was four feet long, two feet wide, and a foot deep. Dusk had fallen. I'd been at it four hours.
I returned two days later. When i went to re-clear the loose dirt i'd excavated from the underside, a toad almost jumped into my hand. I moved him from harm's way, as i'd done with a friend of his the first day. It was time for hacking. With the root intact, the remaining half of the stump was as solid as the whole stump had been...a lesson in the rot-resistance of taproots (moist and protected from the elements), and the hardness of ash (the wood used to make baseball bats).
As i hacked and cleared (ax-cutting involves 45-degree cuts opposite 135-degree cuts, pointing toward each other), i began to uncover what seemed to be the old bones of a large animal, perhaps a deer...or even human, my imagination thought. The passionate, focused part of me would have been annoyed at having to stop my work for something as mundane as calling the authorities to excavate a murder victim. Tain't human, i said to myself...and never found a fragment that proved otherwise. The hole was now close to three feet - a deep approach, particularly on the boulder side of the stump, which elevated me a foot higher.
I interrupted my hacking with occasional whacking (to test the vibratory quotient), and also availed myself of the chance to try to snap the stump with my legs, as the nearest tree was perfectly placed to lean my back against...but the stump barely quivered.
Hack, hack, hack, hack, hack.
I dug away at the secondary root. I'd avoided it because it was against the boulder, but with careful clearing i was able to get an angle. Ten hacks, and it was gone.
And back to the main root...
Hack.
Hack.
Hack hack hack hack hack hack hack hack hack hack hack hack.
More hack.
I was able to come at the root from the top and side. When i reached the bottom on the far side and the top on the near side, i knew it was close. Sometimes i'd test it, just to get a rest from the hacking. Was it time for a final leg push?
I tried to rock it back and forth. A tiny quiver grew, and i heard the first crack that heralded the end. Back, forth, back, forth, crack crack cracK CrAcK. CRACK!!
I let out a long whoop, as i had at the end of the first day. The second day took two or three hours. I pulled the second section from the pit. It was bigger than the first. I filled in the hole, and raked it over.
Within a week, no one would ever guess a tree or stump or worker had ever been there.