Storytime with Henry

The Hunter, the Fox, and the Hounds

One old hunter who has a dry tongue, who used to come to bathe in Walden once every year when the water was warmest, and at such times looked in upon me, told me that many years ago he took his gun one afternoon and went out for a cruise in Walden Wood; and as he walked the Wayland road he heard the cry of hounds approaching, and ere long a fox leaped the wall into the road, and as quick as thought leaped the other wall out of the road, and his swift bullet had not touched him.  Some way behind came an old hound and her three pups in full pursuit, hunting on their own account, and disappeared again in the woods.

Late in the afternoon, as he was resting in the thick woods south of Walden, he heard the voice of the hounds far over toward Fair Haven still pursuing the fox; and on they came, their hounding cry which made all the woods ring sounding nearer and nearer, now from Well Meadow, now from the Baker Farm. For a long time he stood still and listened to their music, so sweet to a hunter's ear, when suddenly the fox appeared, threading the solemn aisles with an easy coursing pace, whose sound was concealed by a sympathetic rustle of the leaves, swift and still, keeping the round, leaving his pursuers far behind; and, leaping upon a rock amid the woods, he sat erect and listening, with his back to the hunter. For a moment compassion restrained the latter's arm; but that was a short-lived mood, and as quick as thought can follow thought his piece was levelled, and whang! — the fox, rolling over the rock, lay dead on the ground.

The hunter still kept his place and listened to the hounds. Still on they came, and now the near woods resounded through all their aisles with their demoniac cry. At length the old hound burst into view with muzzle to the ground, and snapping the air as if possessed, and ran directly to the rock; but, spying the dead fox, she suddenly ceased her hounding as if struck dumb with amazement, and walked round and round him in silence; and one by one her pups arrived, and, like their mother, were sobered into silence by the mystery.  Then the hunter came forward and stood in their midst, and the mystery was solved. They waited in silence while he skinned the fox, then followed the brush a while, and at length turned off into the woods again. 

That evening a Weston squire came to the Concord hunter's cottage to inquire for his hounds, and told how for a week they had been hunting on their own account from Weston woods. The Concord hunter told him what he knew and offered him the skin; but the other declined it and departed. He did not find his hounds that night, but the next day learned that they had crossed the river and put up at a farmhouse for the night, whence, having been well fed, they took their departure early in the morning.

[from "Walden", chapter 15 "Winter Animals" by Henry David Thoreau]

New Board Members!

"works of art" aka "boards"

Tried out the new "Lumber Maker" today that I bought online - trying to make some boards out of trees.  Why?  If you know, let me know.  I guess it was just to see if I could.

I read in Jack London's novels about the Klondike Gold Rush guys that, after they hauled all their stuff up the Chilcoot Pass and down the other side to the lake, made boards out of trees and then made boats to travel down the Yukon in.  Jack was a socialist, by the way, but I didn't find out about that until after I had read his stories.  Honest.  Who wood?



Anyway, I had to show Leta my first screwy looking board (the one on the left in the picture), and she thought it was an absolute work of art!  "We should finish it and make a baby cradle out of it!"  (She has baby on her mind a lot since she'll be a grandma next spring.)  "But I think we need more than one board to make a cradle" I said.







Boat building at Bennett Lake during Klondike Gold Rush (1897-98)



I found out that making boards is pretty tricky, even with a chainsaw, and even with a "Lumber Maker".  You screw down a 2X4 on the log and clamp the tool onto the bar of the chainsaw, and then you slide along the 2X4 to cut the board.

I'm thinking maybe the best thing now is to detach the 2X4 and use that.  I could have done that in the first place with a whole lot less effort, but it wouldn't have been as much fun.

But at least I wasn't board.

And now you know what I saw.

Wood.

In the little ol' log cabin in the shadder of the pines

The Little Old Log Cabin
-- Robert Service

When a man gits on his uppers in a hard-pan sort of town,
An' he ain't got nothin' comin' an' he can't afford ter eat,
An' he's in a fix for lodgin' an' he wanders up an' down,
An' you'd fancy he'd been boozin', he's so locoed 'bout the feet;
When he's feelin' sneakin' sorry an' his belt is hangin' slack,
An' his face is peaked an' gray-like an' his heart gits down an' whines,
Then he's apt ter git a-thinkin' an' a-wishin' he was back
In the little ol' log cabin in the shadder of the pines.

When he's on the blazin' desert an' his canteen's sprung a leak,
An' he's all alone an' crazy an' he's crawlin' like a snail,
An' his tongue's so black an' swollen that it hurts him fer to speak,
An' he gouges down fer water an' the raven's on his trail;
When he's done with care and cursin' an' he feels more like to cry,
An' he sees ol' Death a-grinnin' an' he thinks upon his crimes,
Then he's like ter hev' a vision, as he settles down ter die,
Of the little ol' log cabin an' the roses an' the vines.

Oh, the little ol' log cabin, it's a solemn shinin' mark,
When a feller gits ter sinnin' an' a-goin' ter the wall,
An' folks don't understand him an' he's gropin' in the dark,
An' he's sick of bein' cursed at an' he's longin' fer his call!
When the sun of life's a-sinkin' you can see it 'way above,
On the hill from out the shadder in a glory 'gin the sky,
An' your mother's voice is callin', an' her arms are stretched in love,
An' somehow you're glad you're goin', an' you ain't a-scared to die;

When you'll be like a kid again an' nestle to her breast,
An' never leave its shelter, an' forget, an' love, an' rest.



Robert Service cabin in Dawson City



Still Little. Still in the Woods.

The cabin is now 5 courses high, which makes it above the waist when you stand next to it.  There has been no change there for the last few weeks, after the initial flurry of activity early in September.

Part of the reason was the flurry, I'm sure.  My old joints required days of sauna baths and backing off of the lifting to recuperate.  Cabin building is not a senior-friendly activity.

The other effect was a waning interest on the part of my Junior Lumberjack helper.  Maybe it was the realization that there would be no electricity or cable TV.  And there is both in the house, plus heat and a refrigerator full of food.  Maybe it was getting the wheels - a V6 Pontiac GrandAm with a stereo and bucket seats.  "The Call of the Road" vs. "The Call of the Wild"...?

Made me think of the old verse:

"For which of you, intending to build a tower (or a log cabin), sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it?"

And then Robert Frost's poem:

"One could do worse than be a swinger of birches."  (or a builder of cabins)

So was I once myself a swinger of birches;
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood

So the "Little Cabin In The Woods" is still little.  Still in the woods.  Very still.

It will call me back when it's time to build again.

(not the "Little Cabin")

Plasterin'

Today we decided to switch gears a bit and try plastering the logs a bit.  Home Depot didn't have cement and lime sold separately - maybe that's old-fashioned.  But they had ready-to-mix / just-add-water cement, and the same called mortar mix.  Not knowing the difference, we got mortar mix.

We added just enough water to make it lump together. Too much water and it would have oozed out. We mixed in some sawdust that had piled up from notching the corners together - just for the heck of it I guess. At first we tried to trowel it in, but it didn't stay very well. We found that if you hold it in place for a few seconds it starts to stick. Must be something to do with the water in the mix getting a chance to adhere to the wood logs.

Before putting in the mortar, we filled the gaps as much as possible with pieces of branches, wood wedges from when we notched the corners, a bit of moss (to add a bit of pioneer authenticity), and nailed just a couple of pieces in place.  It was a bit more time consuming than we had imagined - I think because of how it took a bit to get it to stick to the wood; plus every space was unique.

Rubber gloves are good, but hard to work with so we did it bare-handed.  The stuff really dries out your skin though.  Will probably need some good lotion to rehydrate our hands.

Still making progress!

Filling the Gaps

The 3-day Labor Day weekend gave us a good start on the cabin.  We cleared the site, made a path through the woods that the lawn tractor could maneuver (used to tow the logs in with), and got a couple of courses of logs in place.  During the week while I was at work, Nels put up another course or so of logs - learning to use the chain saw on his own to add to our Lincoln Log design.

Some of the logs had large gaps between them as they went up, partly due to having a bit of a bow to them, and partly due to us being total rookies at this.  Supposedly this is not a big issue.

If you've ever read about log home building, there's a whole industry built around it.  And mostly it's about building a log home that's the same as a regular house except the walls are made with logs.  In that case there's lots of do's and don'ts about fitting the logs together, and about using synthetic log chinking - primarily "Perma-Chink".

Well, there's also a whole bunch of people that like to do log cabins the old fashioned way, aided only minimally by modern materials.  And they make their own chinking material which is (no surprise) MUCH cheaper.

Here's an excerpt from and link to a do-it-yourselfer version of chinking which we plan on testing today.

Chinking a log home is actually an easy thing to do. Think of it like icing a cake.

As you may have read in one of my earlier posts, I am not a fan of pre-made synthetic chinking or synthetic chinking of any kind. I make my own chinking with a simple mix of portland cement, sand and lime.

Before adding water I tend to mix all the ingredients together in my trough – you don’t have to as its just a quirky thing I do.

The consistency that I’m trying to achieve is like that of thick peanut butter. I want to be able to mix just enough water to it so that when I form a ball of the mix with my hands — it holds.

For the recipe, I measure by the shovel: one (1) part portland cement, three (3) parts masonry sand, and one half (1/2) part masonry lime.

I use basic tools — nothing special – a 3″ rectangular trowel and a mortar board – just a flat piece of board on which to place the mortar. I place an amount that is comfortable to me on the mortar board – hold it up to the gap between the logs at the chinking line and using the trowel push/press the mortar into the space. I make sure that I get in and around the nails that I placed in an earlier step and using a smooth swipe or two I give the freshly chinked spot a smooth finish making sure that it is sealed both to the top and bottom log.

I use a fair amount of chinking. Ideally my chink lines are about 2 inches wide although this of course depends on the curvature of the logs above and below. Sometimes lines are wider sometimes thinner – the variation is determined by the shape of the logs. I dont mind the variation – after all it does add character and highlights the natural shape of the log.

Remember, in my earlier posts I had described the loose insertion of insulation and then placing of the nails. Since the nails hold the chinking in place and strengthen the bond make sure that you get the mix back behind the nails so that they can do their part and dont forget to cover the nail heads.

If you are chinking an entire structure I recommend that you start at the back of the house or in a less-seen area until you get the hang of it. — Don’t start at the front door where your chinking work will be highly scrutinized.

Does it matter if your chink line is convex, concave, vertically straight or not in relation to the log? — No not really as that is more of a personal preference – whichever you choose – just be consistent.

If I am touching-up, skim coating older chinking or filling gaps in chinking then I use enough water to make it the same consistency of toothpaste or thereabouts. I have even used a pastry bag or masonry bag to apply it to gaps or cracks.

Once the mixture cures it will turn a light gray. I clean the mortar off the log with a wire brush.

If I have repaired an area or replaced a section of chinking then my fresh chinking will no doubt look different than the area of chinking that still exists. In this case, since I would rather that every thing look uniform, I will make the same mix as I used to chink but this time I will add enough water to achieve a consistency similar to that of house paint and using a brush simply paint it on. But I do not do this step until all the areas I have chinked are thoroughly cured.

[link to original article HERE]

Tree Talk

The Sound of Trees

I wonder about the trees.

Why do we wish to bear

Forever the noise of these

More than another noise

So close to our dwelling place?

We suffer them by the day

Till we lose all measure of pace,

And fixity in our joys,

And acquire a listening air.

They are that that talks of going

But never gets away;

And that talks no less for knowing,

As it grows wiser and older,

That now it means to stay.

My feet tug at the floor

And my head sways to my shoulder

Sometimes when I watch trees sway,

From the window or the door.

I shall set forth for somewhere,

I shall make the reckless choice

Some day when they are in voice

And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

Robert Frost

Robert Frost, 1874-1963

DAY TWO PHOTOS

the "Lincoln log" approach

More progress on the cabin today, as the weather stayed nice and sunny and cool, and the skeeters were few.  We picked out a couple more big dead trees and got some good logs out of them.  Then we dragged them through the woods with the lawn tractor, and scraped the bark off.  We thought of maybe changing the joining method, but the "Lincoln log" approach can be done totally with the chain saw, which cuts down on the work.

Starting on the second course of logs, we ran into some new challenges.  Main thing is, logs are not straight (duh)!  So even if you measure and all that, you end up finessing it to get it to fit.  Running the chain saw in between the logs worked pretty good to get the bumps out.

sawed to fit

So by the end of day two, we had six logs put together.

Now that we're learning a few things and getting handier with the tools, we might try to shoot for another six logs tomorrow for Labor Day.  My instructions are to wake up Nels at 8 a.m.

progress after day two

DAY ONE PHOTOS

Each for himself must cleave a path alone,

And press his own way forward in the fight.

Smooth is the way to ease and calm delight,

And soft the road Sloth chooseth for her own...

  [Paul Laurence Dunbar]

path in the back yard

approaching the clearing

Nels and his helpers:  Ralph and Frank

The Cabin in the Clearing
by Robert Frost

MIST:
I don't believe the sleepers in this house
know where they are.

SMOKE:
They've been here long enough
to push the woods back from around the house
and part them in the middle with a path.

MIST:
And still I doubt if they know where they are.
And I begin to fear they never will.
All they maintain the path for is the comfort
of visiting with the equally bewildered.
Nearer in plight their neighbors are than distance…

SMOKE:
They must by now have learned the native tongue.
Why don't they ask the Red Man where they are?

MIST:
They often do, and none the wiser for it.
So do they also ask philosophers
who come to look in on them from the pulpit.
They will ask anyone there is to ask -
in the fond faith accumulated fact
will of itself take fire and light the world up.
Learning has been a part of their religion.

SMOKE:
If the day ever comes when they know who
they are, they may know better where they are;
but who they are in too much to believe--
either for them or the onlooking world.
They are too sudden to be credible.

MIST:
Listen, they murmur talking in the dark
on what should be their daylong theme continued.
Putting the lamp out has not put their thought out.
Let us pretend the dewdrops from the eaves
are you and I eavesdropping on their unrest--
a mist and smoke eavesdropping on a haze--
and see if we can tell the bass from the soprano.
Then smoke and mist who better could appraise
the kindred spirit of an inner haze.

SHAQ ATTACK - DAY 1

Today we surged into the cabin project with gusto.  Mucho gusto.

Cant hook

Step one was the site selection, and Nels and I picked a spot surrounded on all sides by trees.  Took the chainsaw and cut down and cut up some of the smaller ones to clear space for the 12 x 12 square, and took out others to make room to drive in the lawn tractor and wagon.  I picked up a 100 ft. heavy duty extension cord from Fleet, together with a big hammer and chisel for making the notches to join the logs.  I checked several places in town for a cant hook, but the closest I came was at Ace Hardware where they had just sold the last one for $70.  I'm hoping we can get away without one in sticking with the easy-and-cheap principle.

After clearing a space, we measured to lay out where the bottom logs would go, and pushed down some sticks to mark each corner.  Then we measured both diagonals and found that one was two feet longer than the other.  It took several attempts to figure out which way to move the sticks to make a relatively good square.  At that point we used the broad end of a pick axe to trench out where the logs were to lay, and had to chop a lot of tree roots to make it level.

electric chainsaw

Next we went for the first log.  I had a good one laying in the back yard - leftover from cutting down a dead tree for firewood.  It was the bottom end which fit our spec of 12 feet long, it was about 9 inches in diameter, and not much tapering from one end to the other.  Logs that size are HEAVY!  We were able to put one end up into the wagon and cinch it up with a chain.  We let the other end drag as we pulled it with the lawn tractor into the woods.  The next two logs came from cutting down a couple of other dead trees, and we used just the bottom ends to make sure the first course was made up of nice big'uns as a base for the walls.

Putting down the third log required that we notch the ends so they'd lock together and so when we got to adding more courses the logs would go together with minimal space between them.  We did a "Lincoln Log" approach, making two cuts with the chainsaw and chipping out the notch with a chisel, which seemed to be a lot of work.  So on the other end we put the chisel aside and did the whole notching process with the chainsaw.  We'll probably stick with that method as we go, having decided that easy was more fun than making it pretty.

curved drawknife

We did peel the logs, using a curved drawknife I had gotten in Fort Yukon for our cabin project there.  It went pretty quick since they were dead for sometime and the bark fell off in big chunks.  They say if you peel them you'll have fewer bugs trying to eat up your cabin later.

All this took about 6 hours, with breaks in between to drink pop and smoke and refuel Nels with cheeseburgers and such.  At about 10 to 5 he spied out another good tree as log #4, but by then I was pretty well "stove up" and declared quittin' time.  

There were quite a few times during the day that we mused about how it must have been for the early white settlers driving their ox carts up here, camping out along the way, and having to then put up a cabin.  No chainsaws or lawn tractors to make things easier back then.  The other thought that started to nag us was what was it going to take to put up the fourth or fifth row of logs when we can't just lay them on the ground.  But I guess we'll figure that one out when it comes time.

Actual photos coming soon...

A SHACK OUT BACK

This might be fun or it might just be too much work.  Nonetheless, I'll try to document the project in case you've ever thought of this idea.  Might be "like hitting your head on the wall -- feels so good when you stop".

The Back One Acre is full of trees, exclusively pine:  balsam, jack, and Norway.  It's the balsam that are growing up so thick that they get to be skinny poles about seven feet high before they get choked out from lack of sunlight and create an impassable thicket.  Every few months I plug in the electric chainsaw, whack a bunch down, and make a big bonfire; all the while trying not to set the woods on fire.  A few spots where I've done that have opened up for the sunlight to stream in, and grass and wildflowers start to bring new colors to the woods floor.  The trees that remain seem to thrive better too.

My stepson Nels just moved in with us for awhile, and when I floated the idea, he found a small clearing out back that's hidden on all sides from the house and the neighbors.  It looks to be the perfect location for The Shack.  And having some teenage muscles might save on my creaky old bones in the process.  The Idea is not to build an artisan-type cabin.  Just a shack out back made of logs.

I figure about 70 logs, 8 to 10 inches in diameter with minimal tapering, should do the trick.  There's a bunch of big dead trees that fit those specs, each being about 60 or 70 feet tall.  So each one might yield 3 or 4 logs, each 12 feet long.  I'm pretty sure that theory is easier than practice.  But it's all about trial and error and persistence, right?

Stay tuned...