You would think, with the nice, long holiday weekend, I would have made time to post once or twice. But no, sir. It was Labor Day, and I was laboring! Outside! We’ve had fabulous weather here on the western edge of the big mitten, and I’ve been taking advantage of it as much as possible. I wanted to catch up on some yard work, and get going on cutting wood for the fireplace.
Which brings me to the absolute highlight of the holiday: on Monday, I graduated from my friend John’s chainsaw "school" and was granted a long-time loan of a fabulous Stihl 020T arborist’s chainsaw. And chaps. Safety orange Kevlar chaps.
Even new shoes can hardly compare to the joys of chainsaw independence. No longer do I have to call in a favor and/or wait until a manly friend can drop by and cut up some of the dead timber I’ve dragged from the woods. Nope. I can do it myself. And, I may add, with great attention to safety and proper chainsaw etiquette. Chainsaws are dangerous tools. I know, I know. Geez! I’m a girl, after all. I’m not about to ram around holding the running saw over my head while talking on my Nextel and trying to muscle through a giant branch in a thunderstorm. Alone. While eating a tuna sandwich. And wearing no shirt or shoes.
I leave that sort of irresponsible power tool behavior to the guys. (Note: I do differentiate between "guys" and "men." Posting on this topic will follow.) It is my belief that, contrary to popular opinion, women in general are actually better power tool operators than guys. There are exceptions, of course, but I’m talking in generalities here, so don’t get your knickers in a twist. Let me expound.
Let’s start with defining what makes a "good" power tool operator: 1) safe operating, 2) safe operating, and 3) safe operating. A good operator will always stay within the tool’s intended limits, for safety reasons and because it just makes sense. You don’t cut dovetails with a table saw. You shouldn’t reach up one-handed with a chainsaw and try to cut branches with the tip of the bar. I think guys expect the tool to work for them in the manner they desire. It’s the "get a bigger hammer" mentality. If they just stretch a little further and push the envelope just enough…they will either cut more wood than their older brother did, or they’ll swing the blade around and bury it in their leg.
Women, on the other hand, understand the value of finesse, and are more apt to retain a healthy fear of the tool and work with the tool according to the tool’s rules. Women will use guards and follow safety precautions, perhaps in part because they are less inclined to solely depend upon their own physical strength. Also, I think that women tend to underestimate their own strength, while men will overestimate. Women are less likely to try to chainsaw once they reach physical fatigue—which is when most chainsaw accidents occur. Guys just don’t seem to know when to quit. True, by pushing themselves they often accomplish more, but is it really worth the risk?
Perhaps guys just don’t know they’ve reached an unsafe physical state. It’s been my experience that women are more in tune with their bodies. We know when we’re dehydrated—so we put the saw down and get some water. Right away. When we’re in the woods, we don’t try for "just one more" when it’s really too dark to see. When my wrist starts to shake, I know it’s time to put the saw down.
Women may also be a little less "mechanically inclined," which makes us think through tool use with less haste and more caution. I don’t count on my instincts when operating machinery. Before I put the tractor in gear, I want to know what every lever and button and pedal does. I want to get used to driving the mower in "turtle" speed before I push the speed to "rabbit."
Perhaps that makes me a bit of a pansy. Overcautious. Scaredy-cat. Take your pick.
Threatening my manhood, however, won’t get me to try to take my twelve-inch-bar chainsaw through a thirty-inch oak tree trunk half-buried in muck. Sorry.
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