Trees are capable of weird things. They’re also capable of thriving in the harshest of conditions. One way or another, they find a way to survive: from low, heat-warping deserts to high, blizzard-wracked peaks.
Here in Montana, trees must endure
radical swings in weather. Some thrive in poor soil and dry, windswept
environments. It’s not uncommon to see a pine tree growing straight out of a
rock face. Ponderosa pines have learned to survive where wildfires regularly
sweep through the understory.
And trees will find a way to work
around all manner of obstacles.
I have a section of a fir tree in my
cabin loft that grew around and nearly encased a long-dead three-inch lodgepole
that had been blown over and caught up in nearby trees before reaching the
ground. Early this spring, we felled a tree near my cabin with strands of
barbed wire embedded deep inside it. Somewhere in the early 1900s, the tree had
served as a living fencepost.
Yesterday, while splitting the last
round of fir I brought home from the cabin, I came across a piece that refused
to split. After several minutes of me “going at it like a one-armed man killing
snakes,” as my friend Kenny used to say, I finally broke it apart with a wedge
and sledgehammer. Inside, I found a hook of metal nearly a half inch thick,
likely part of a giant broken nail.
I’m sharing two photographs of the
metal. In the second, I held a Cold Smoke beer beside it for a sense of scale.
—Mitchell Hegman
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