Life of toil in the tall trees

As I sat down one evening,

'Twas in a small cafe;

A fifty-year old waitress

To me these words did say:

I see you are a logger,

And not just a common bum,

'Cause no one but a loggerStirs coffee with his thumb.

Arguably the second most popular Monty Python song after ‘Spam’ would be the ‘Lumberjack Song’. Deservedly so. However, the song makes reference to the vast forests of Vancouver Island, where I live. My picky point about this is nobody who toils in the bush on Vancouver Island is called a ‘lumberjack’. He is a logger. Nor is he a ‘forester’, that’s fancy-schmantzy academic talk. He again is a logger!

Logging was the mainstay of British Columbia for decades. Millionaires were made, and vast empires were formed from the labours of those who carry out one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet. The death and injury toll, even today, is hideous. Few would be the people on the west coast of BC who did not know at least one person who’d died in the bush.

Loggers are a mighty tough breed. It’s a bleak and lonely life, and they have to be tough to take it. They also have to accept a lot of bleak loneliness in their isolation in the camps.

Yet, there was always a certain allure for young bucks. They disregarded the ‘old guys’ (sometimes in their 40s) who walked with limps and were missing assorted fingers, and who were destined to be invalided out because their backs wouldn’t take the toil any longer, and their livers wouldn’t take the trips to town any longer.

Lots of my friends became loggers, and others went to the bush (to the ‘weeds’) for summer jobs when they were in university. They began as ‘whistle punks’ and if they did well they might become ‘chokermen’ all in the course of a summer. I didn’t go logging, but the forest industry paid my way through university as I got a job in a mill. A little less dangerous and I didn’t need to face the isolation.

The forest industry in BC is now a shambles. A shambles due to exploitation of the resource and hideous mismanagement both by the corporate world (most of it is now multinational, which means they don’t really give a damn about maintaining the resource), and by government. Latest blow has been the hugely destructive pine-beetle devastation of the province’s interior. What will come of that is anybody’s guess.

And bearing those thoughts in mind, I thought our loggers deserved a nod this morning. Chew a wad of ‘snoose’ for me.

And now for something completely different.

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In a soft and subtle Clint voice I could request someone to make my day, especially if they “feel lucky.” But, despite the title of this award accorded me by the inimitable cs (which makes the award even more cherished) I do indeed have those bloggers who in various and often delightful ways, make my day. I look forward to their thoughts, musings and writing talents and want to (as the rules demand) pass this award onto them.

But, rules being rules, their numbers must be narrowed down to 10. That’s tough because if you’re on my blogroll you do make my day. Furthermore, cs selected a number I would have. So, here you are in all your glory: My 10. Check them out. They’ll probably make your day, too.

Rise Out of Me

Ellee Seymour

Leesa

jmb

Voyager

Heart in San Francisco

Casdok

Liz

Merely Me

Wolfgirl

And, for the rest of you, after this arbitrary selection, catch you next time.