Thoughts about cars from my spot in a tree.

  I am way up in a tree, most of the day, looking out and occasionally down. What I see are rooftops, wildlife, and cars. Who I communicate with are the ground crew, clients, the tree I am climbing, and the wildlife I encounter.

  Sounds fun, but it has its drawbacks. That's why they call it tree WORK. Using a chainsaw is like being chained to a hot muffler all day, and often the compromises involve personal protective equipment that doesn't breathe, stinks, cuts out birdsong (and dogs barking incessantly at me, the thing their domestication and instinct tells them is a terrible threat) and even causes pain. Yes, personal protective equipment, like chaps, hardhat, ear muffs and face shields can cause, rather than mitigate, workplace discomfort and even pain. 

  Think about it. You wear more stuff, you are heavier. You wear more stuff, you are hotter. You wear more stuff, and you cannot fit between branches you would otherwise glide in amongst. Face shields keep the eyes from being poked out. But they also keep you from seeing well. Most arborists flip them up and down all day. I am no exception. A tiny twig tapping on an approved OSHA earmuff sounds like thunder inside your head.

  I am not complaining. I don't feel right without most of that stuff, and when I teach climbing or pruning, it is a required component of the course. I just want my non-climbing friends to un- romanticize the act of climbing urban trees. It is fun, just as driving a beer truck might be, foir moments and moments at a time. But in any weather, with customers whose vociferous ignorance might astound you, with foremen and bosses and criteria that vary from day to day and job to job; climbing is a hassle, too.

  Take traffic cones (please). These are the bright heavy conical thingies sitting in the road everywhere you need to be. If you want to park, there they are. If you need to shoot down a road, cones almost magically spring up to thwart your vehicle, and funnel it into a long line of other thwarted vehicles, angrily puffing on their exhaust pipes. This is the fault of fellows like me, who work in what is sportingly called The Public Rights-of-Way. I can't speak for all of us, but at least arborists use these things for workplace safety and security.