Being as I am no arborist the species of my combatant remains a mystery, suffice to say it was indeed ornery. The high whine of a two stroke motor all but drown out the sub chorus of chained teeth gnashing at its green trunk. Pulp, dust and bark debris hung upon my dungarees leaving little doubt as to the toll this undertaking would take upon us both. While my body was not battered my ego was indeed bruised as the old hulk hung on til the bitter end. At long last felled it walloped upon the soft dark loamy soil with a resounding thud. My great sense of accomplishment was short lived as it then occurred to me, I now would be sawing it into chapters, then stacking it. Amongst the sights, sounds and scents of this skirmish with nature I remain surely in love...with this 'Shore life.