You had been reaching for the sun, and absorbing its life giving rays. The world around you is a buzz with
life. Bees, dragonflies, flies, gnats, moths, butterflies, birds, and bats flutter, flap and fly. The leaves,
twigs and grass on the forest floor crackle, snap and crunch under the footfalls of beetles, ants, foxes,
rabbits, deer, skunks, badgers, dogs, cats, pheasant, wild boar, squirrels, porcupines, hedgehogs, woodchucks,
beaver, and something else. Your communion as a tree is shattered, as you hear the voice sigh, "Not more of
them!" This is followed by the noisy crushing of brush, branches and foliage, and boisterous singing.
You adjust your perspective from skyward toward the ground. Birds fly hurriedly away from the sound and dodge
among your branches to escape the approaching onslaught of - lumberjacks! Mostly bearded humans emerge into
the clearing. They are all clad in various red plaid shirts and heavy work dungarees. They each wield axes
which gleam menacingly in the sunlight.
"Here's a nice stand of lumber, boys!" says the 6 foot 3 inch tall beardless leader of the ground shouts, as
she buries her ax head in the fallen log you had rested on the night before. You are surprised that the head
lumberjack is a woman, at least you think she's a woman. Being a tree makes it harder for you to perceive
humans the way you did when you were one.
A line from an old Monty Python song haunts your memory adding to your consternation, though you're not
entirely sure why, "...I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay, I wear high heels and a bra...just like my dear papa"?
You sense a shriek echoing horribly in your mind at the same moment you hear the thunderous crack of steel
striking wood. Across the glen a black bearded hairy giant of a man has swung his ax cutting deep into an
ancient tree.
"Stop!" shouts the angry voice. Pine cones clatter from the trees, but bounce off the lumberjack's hard hat.
He pulls his ax free and swings again. You can see his ear buds wire dangling from his head. You faintly hear
the strains of heavy metal shrieking from the headset. He swings again and again oblivious to the sounds of
pain echoing around him and to the pain of the nuts, pine cones, needles and branches being hurled down on
him.
More axes swing chattering the tranquility of the forest. You hear a loud crunch at the base of your roots
and turn your attention to the lumberjack's hand on your tree trunk. No, not me. I'm human or I used to be!
You try to shout, but human speech is a forgotten art. You wrack your mind searching for the words, searching
for speech.
"NO MORE!" roars the voice unseen.
The woodsmen freeze with the axes in midswing. They look around for the source of loud shout. The first
lumberjack swings again. There is the crack of wood being cut asunder by metal. Sap leaks to heal the wound,
but the ax swings again. There is an unnatural silence, then there is a clap of thunder that shakes the very
ground.
The lumberjack in front of you stands with ax raised. You ready yourself for your impending doom. You wonder
if you'll retain consciousness when you're a gross of number two pencils or reams of paper - or worst of all
toilet paper. No, no, they'll make something useful, cribs for babies, beds for children, chairs for sitting,
tables for dining, right? Toothpicks for cleaning teeth...you shudder. There is the whoosh of the ax through
the air heading for your immobile body.