Chainsawing Hundreds of Dead Spruce Trees (Sad)

Sadly, the majestic spruce trees throughout the boreal forests of Southcentral Alaska have been decimated by an infestation of spruce beetles.  Beetle killed trees are easy to spot.  Their needles turn rusty brown and then drop, littering the snow.  The bark, too, turns redder than normal and sheds in shaggy patches like a mangy dog.  These dead trees are not only an eyesore but a potent fire hazard.

Low on wood at winter's end!

On our property, we have culled 30 - 40 trees each year for three years. Most of the stricken trees are mature.  (The tallest dead ones we cut down were above 80 feet).  For some reason, the young saplings seem to be spared, perhaps because they have a higher concentration of turpines to discourage insects.   As a result, our woodsy setting is changing.  The good news is that, with more space and light between trees, the woods are less damp, harboring fewer mosquitoes.  The bad news is that spruce grouse and squirrels are disappearing along with their habitat. I so miss the calm cooing of mother hens leading their little ones on a march across the yard, and the aerobatic antics of squirrels climbing spruce trees with mushroom caps too large for their mouths.   

These dead Spruce need to go

The trees did not all die at the same time but those that did tended to be grouped near one another.  So each year we targeted a different area of our property.  First, we had to take down three 80-85 foot trees close to our cabin.  (They made terrific planks for our decks, docks, and steps)  After that, we moved farther afield.  To reach some, we bushwhacked and marked a sinuous path one summer, through thickets of spiky devil's club, alder and downed trees.  Then, we waited to cut down the trees until March, when temperatures are in the 20s F and we don't have to worry about mosquitoes, yellow jackets, or bears.  Also, transportation is easier with sleds atop snow, which coats, by many feet,  the plants and deadfall below.  For the next two winters, we worked the dead trees along that path, creating a bit of a firebreak.  In March of 2020,  we targeted trees along the lake shore, which was easier, since the front line of trees fell neatly on the flat, frozen surface and our snowshod trails to the dead trees were shorter. 

A few days ahead of any winter chainsawing, my husband and I donned snowshoes and pat out a path to and around a group of closely set dead trees. After those paths firmed up with a cold night or two, we set out for an afternoon of chainsawing.  Bryan drives the snowmachine through the woods or out to the lake, hooked to our cheery red 8 foot wooden sled, which drags behind it a little plastic sled full of chainsaw related equipment.  I enjoy riding on the sled, feeling like a kid on a sleigh ride, gripping the tow lines of two empty plastic sleds, and a shovel.

Ready to load up the freight sled

Whenever we arrive at the target area, we assess which direction the trees are inclined to fall (by angle or uneven weight distribution) and double check that the breeze, if any, is very mild.  Then we move the vehicles out of the way. Bryan starts the chainsaw so it can  warm up a bit, while he snaps on his kevlar chaps and a helmet with built in ear and eye protection.  I wear ear protection, too, and get out of the way.  First, he cuts a shallow, triangular “mouth” on the side he wants the tree to fall.  Then he circles behind to cut straight through almost to the  “mouth.” The tree falls forward, as though on a hinge.   Most of the time this works, but every winter we encounter a tree or two that foils these plans.  Some pinch the blade and we have to wriggle it free.  Others “hop” off the base trunk and remain standing upright!  Some are cut straight through but refuse to fall, so he inserts plastic wedges and hammers the back of the tree.  Standing where I do, I can see the tree shudder up its full length until it finally succumbs to the vibration.  The worst are those that tangle in the boughs of an adjacent birch or spruce.  These are the “widow makers.”  We generally mark them with flagging tape and watch them fall later in the season, either during a winter windstorm or when the deep snow melts beneath the tree and gravity pulls it down. 

After the tree is on the ground, Bryan limbs and bucks the trunk (into rounds).  When he moves onto the next tree, I play "red neck bacci ball" by tossing the logs into a plastic sled.  When full, I drag it to the big red sled. This may not be pilates, but it is certainly effective exercise! 

In addition to hauling the logs, we piled the branchy debris on the frozen lake and enjoyed several bonfires.  Don't you love the feng shui of a fire on ice!  The speed with which the dead branches ignited and burned was a sobering indicator of the importance of the tiring labor we were performing. No fire department where we live.  We are on our own. 

Perhaps because the woods were so crowded, damp, and dark, I found few little saplings beneath the dead trees.  Along the lake, though, on elevated land, I was pleased to find a 1:1 ratio of healthy looking replacement trees.  Given our snow depth, they are probably 10 - 15 feet tall.  But these slow growers will take several decades to reach the heights and fullness of those we have removed.

Burning the branches on the frozen lake

In the meantime, our view of the beautiful Beluga Mountains has opened up, and I look forward to seeing the sun sparkle on the lake through the birch and small spruce to the north of us. 

The removal of all these trees will change our ecosystem.  Less density means more breeze and fewer damp breeding grounds for mosquitoes.  Raspberries, blueberries, and elderberries will proliferate in the short term, but over time, will the soil become less acidic? What other plants will arise in these dryer, lighter conditions?  Willow?  Cottonwood? It will be interesting to see what Mother Nature has in store.