The Tree at the Corner of Summer and Fall

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It won’t be long before the leaves will turn and fall, and we’ll start telling you about the annual leaf raking event for our elderly and disabled residents in Southern Gables, and collecting names and addresses for that free service sponsored by the Neighborhood Association. We’ll be mentioning that signups are handled by Judy Whitten jewhitten@comcast.net.

The leaves haven’t started falling yet, but last weekend we went out and whacked a whole truckload full of leaves before they even hit the ground. It started with Ken. 

Our neighbor Ken Fischer passed by our neighborhood entrance sign at Jewell & Estes a few weeks ago, and thought to himself, “Now there’s a tree in need of trimming.”

Before

He brought it up to me and we decided to have a go at it. We recruited some helpers – my wife Stormy and mountain-climbing neighbor Joe Woelkers – and showed up last Saturday with tools of the trade: saws, pruners, and clippers.

I asked Ken if he brought his Peavy. I think he was a little surprised that I remembered that word. “No,” he said, “we won’t need it for this job.” We tucked into it, and Ken did most of the chainsaw work. Joe and I hauled it off to Ken’s truck, and Stormy was the loadmaster for fitting it all in.  

After

Ken is a pretty experienced woodsman, as we’ve mentioned before. A few years ago, as part of our “Interesting Characters” series he told us about an old friend of his who taught him some of the tricks of the trade. That was when I learned about a Peavy. Even though we didn’t need a Peavy for this job, I thought it would be a good opportunity to share that story again, in case you missed it or if you joined us since 2021. 

— Bruce McDonald

The Peavy

by Ken Fischer

Many years ago in the seventies, I was privileged to meet and become friends with a legitimate horseman. A man who demonstrated the spirit and essence of a true Coloradan.

Will Burt was a master printer by trade. He normally worked about sixty hours a week. He was also a mountaineer and a fair wood cutter. He would never boast of his exploits, but his irascible old friends would show reverence when recounting that Will crossed the continental divide on horseback more often than anyone they knew. He was a “top shelf” rider.

For as long as anyone could recall, he lived in a nineteen-twenties vintage cabin on Lookout Mountain with a postcard view of Denver. We met by chance one day in the forest near the Chief Hosa/Buffalo overlook. His saws appeared antique and metallic with paint worn off, but they ran like Pratt & Whitney WW2 bomber engines.

Peavy, or heavy pulp hook.

Will politely chuckled as he watched me load logs. He approached with a wry smile and said, “Try this, son.” He handed me an implement which could be readily confused for a hay hook or a Viking boarding tool. It was a “Peavy,” named for its inventor. It was used effectively since the 1800s to roll logs on land or water. It would take some practice and puncture wounds to be proficient with this dangerous hook.

Will used two Peavys at a time and stacked his logs vertically. I never became that proficient and continue to stack horizontally. Over many years I have rarely seen the Peavy used except by the Alaskans. Log loaders and ground men would ask about the tool, noting its benefit to one’s back and fingers.

Will had noted that I was somewhat low on fingers, but had a strong back and a weak enough mind for embarking on the lumberjack/firewood occupation. He was sage in his advice and I would never be without a Peavy again.

I miss those winter Sundays when the phone would ring about eight. It would be Will. He had a Forest Service permit and was itching to cut some timber. He gave away most of his wood, but kept a few “ricks” for winter when he would reminisce by a hearty fire. He had been married to a “handsome” woman, also a “solid” rider: His mate, who went on too soon.

I miss Will and men like him who were called the greatest generation, but not by one another. He countered his loneliness, teaming up with a fast-moving meetup lass. Soon he was selling his business and the cabin he loved, then moving to Westcliffe.

He rode until he could no longer and passed shortly thereafter.

When I hear the Merle Haggard song “Colorado” or Randy Travis sing ”He Walked on Water,” I smile and think of Will. I thank him for the Peavy, the friendship and the comradery.

Ken Fischer holds a Master’s Degree in Education from the University of Iowa and was involved in organizing Iowa’s first Law Enforcement Training Academy. He was on the SWAT Team in the Lakewood Police Department, and retired as a Senior Sergeant. A longtime resident of Southern Gables, he is an experienced woodsman and now runs a firewood business. 

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