Tag Archives: Tree surgeon

Tending Trees Part 1

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When I took the job at the Priory, I (naively) didn’t appreciate how much time and care the trees would require.

Each year, I arrange for any sickly, dangerous or unwanted trees to be felled and for dead, rotten and restricted  branches to be removed.

If  a smallish tree needs felling or a low branch removing, I’ll do the job myself; anything larger and I need to get in help.  This year, there were no trees to chop down (a good thing) but I still had tree-work that was either too high for me to reach (I have no head for heights) or beyond my skill level (hard to believe I know, but true).

On the drive, just before it turns and enters the gardens, is a large candelabra-shaped ash tree.  After a mighty storm in early February, a big, rotten section of one of its many stems, crashed to the ground below.  Peering up at this elephant-skinned giant, I could see that there was still a big length of trunk and two or three dead branches that needed to be removed.  (At this point, the drive is a public right of way and so the tree needed to be made safe).

The rotten trunk is to the right of the tree surgeon

So, at the end of March, I hired a local company (who I’ve used these past two or three years) to tackle this and two other jobs.  Jack (the tree surgeon) gradually reduced the rotten bole …

Another chunk of rotten tree-trunk falls to earth

… and removed the dead branches.

I also asked for advice on two of the big oaks on the east lawn.  We had spoken about them last year and I wanted him to cast a professional eye over them.

Here they are on the right.  They have sparse top growth, crumbling bark and plenty of dead branches.  Last year he told me that they were dying from the top down and probably won’t survive many more years.  He suggested that they may have been struck by lightning.

Unlike ash, oak is as hard as iron (-ish) and far less likely to shed branches; unless they are rotten.  After a quick inspection, he saw no need to carry out any remedial work.  These two oaks should be fine (and safe) until another check is carried out next year.

Reassured, we then moved on to job number two.  This was a quickie; just a simple lifting of the tree-crown (by the removal of two or three lower branches) from the tulip tree next to the house.

Before

We wanted to increase space and light for the amelanchier on the left and for the yew hedging beneath.

After

You can hardly see the difference which is how tree maintenance should be, I suppose.  Nothing too drastic.

But the final job was to be more drastic.

On the west lawn by the pond are six weeping willows and I had been asked by the Priory owner to have the crown of the largest reduced by about 25%.  I  was worried that such a big crown reduction, at this time of year, would look ugly, perhaps harm the tree and (despite being willow) that it wouldn’t re-sprout.

“Such a big crown reduction, at this time of year, won’t look too ugly, won’t harm the tree and (being willow) it will soon re-sprout,”  said Jack.  Huh?!?  I hate that mind-reading thing he does.

Once more aloft, Jack starts work while his assistant waits below.

And when they had finished?  Noticeable certainly – but more light for the house and for a pair of adjacent birches.

A good morning’s work then.  Three jobs done, loads more firewood for me to chop next winter, plenty of waste for a big bonfire (always a joy) and a metre high mound of wood chippings.  And the trees on the estate made safe for another year – fingers crossed.

Oak Killer

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Despite banging on about how much I love oaks, I plan to kill one.
The Priory oaks add an enormous amount of structure, permanence and sheer weight to the beauty of the estate.  Rather like shrubs can do in an herbaceous border,  I suppose.  There are other big trees here; enormous ash trees (including this one – possibly the largest ash I’ve ever known)
Those horizontal branches are huge.
A pipe band and drum could march along them – almost

weeping willows,

The largest of the six weeping willows that sit on the west pond

alders

One of  the alders.  There’s well over a dozen

and pines that by any measure are big.

The Priory pines poking out of the wood (well copse really) up on the drive.  Dec 2009

But it is the oaks that I notice and gaze at and think about the most.  They are everywhere you look.  There are dozens upon dozens (possibly hundreds) in the surrounding fields,

Some of Margaret’s oaks.   Feb 2009
hedge boundaries,
And some more.   Dec 2009

along the river, in Margaret’s wood.  And when they die their presence still lingers like, well like the tales of the Priory ghost.

In the garden, by the east pond, there is the stump of an oak  (a monster oak) that was felled  long, long before I started work here. (It may have been the storm of ’87 that did the deed).  And when I walk past, I am often aware of it not being there; even though I never knew it.  I miss a tree I never saw.
The oak stump on the east lawn
Last year, up on the long drive leading up to the road, we had to fell an oak.  The drive is a public right of way and the oak’s main trunk was badly rotten and leaning at an alarming angle.  A proper man came and did  the deed.  Whilst I have a chainsaw certificate (and indeed a chainsaw) and rather fetching chainsaw trousers (field grey with black trim – possibly a bit too Wehrmacht actually), I only tend to fell trees that I feel confident in handling.  So, knee height ones generally.

Unless you’re trapped under a boulder in a canyon and the loss of a limb might be of benefit, you really ought to wear protective clothing when using a chainsaw.  There was a young lad on the forestry course I did a few years back.  He was a nice enough chap but (and let’s cut to the chase)  a bit thick.  Has to be said.  Whilst we were clearing an area of scrub, he rested a tree limb on his thigh (yikes) in order to cut it with his chainsaw (double yikes).  Needless to say the chainsaw slipped (triple yikes).  Luckily he was wearing protective trousers (phew).  The immensely strong fibres in the trouser material were ripped out by the saw’s chain and effectively clogged  it to a halt.  The tutor (the rather apt Mr Pollard) was obviously very relieved that the brainless-one wasn’t injured, though couldn’t hide his frustration that a £120 pair of trousers were destroyed.

I am now going to have another oak felled.  I’ve ummed and ahhed over this  particular tree for nigh on three years.  I’ve stood and studied and scratched my head.  And my chin.  I’ve studied it from every angle and at every season.  And sadly I think it has to come down.  Here’s a photo of it:

It’s the central one.  Not huge but of an age.  The main trunk splits and splits again.  It is too close to the very lovely oak to the right of it.  The latter needs space to grow; to fill out and the former is growing up through its crown.  Where they meet they are both shedding branches.   It’s a tough call.  Who wants to cut down a mature oak?  Not I.   But I think I’ve made the right decision.  Though it is, of course, an anxious one.