Writing Samples

The great wild tree hunt
by Kevin Dowler

The walnut rocking chair has been moved aside and the spot is ready for the Christmas tree.

Tree decorations are polished and ready for hanging.

"It’s time,” I say heartily to my family. “Let’s go get a tree.”

This is to be no ordinary family trip to buy a Christmas tree off a vacant lot. This year we have decided to go out into the great white north and stalk and hunt the wild Christmas tree.

With my previously purchased tree tag, to place on the tree after the kill so no wildlife officer can put me in jail during Christmas for tree poaching, we start on our way out to the van.

On my back is my trusty green backpack, precisely filled with emergency food rations (two boxes of animal crackers), cooking gear, a family sized space blanket and a small two room survival shelter. In my hand is the tool which this trip depends on.

That, of course, is the world’s most dependable red handled knife, my very own scientifically balanced swiss army knife, with the optional survival saw blade.

Under Dauminique’s arm is the Oxford University’s unabridged Universal Tree Identification Guide and in her other arm is the silent Kristine Robin, who is our Christmas tree aesthetic specialist and knows just what we are looking for and has promised not to tell what it is until she finds it.

Loaded into the van and rolling along to the rattle of my snowshoes against Kristine’s mini sleigh, we make our way to the stomping grounds of the wild Canadian Christmas trees.

Suddenly I remember that I should have switched to my winter tires as I sit complacently as the van twists and turns under no control of mine in a perfect 180 degree arc so we can get a view of the opposite side of the trees that we just passed.

While sliding backwards down a snow covered back road, I decide this must be the right place when we are stopped in a quick about face into the ditch.

In the jarring stop, Kristine awakes from her sleep with a “yap” and Dauminique ends her discussion about my showing off with a baby in the van. I say “This is the spot”.

Snowshoes on, compass in hand, I move into the forest followed by ski mounted Dauminique pulling

Kristine riding in her customized snow sled, sitting on top of the thick Tree Identification Guide to get a better view to locate our tree.

Reaching the government approved Christmas tree cutting cut line, we let Kristine look around to identify the right wild Canadian Christmas tree for our home.

After pointing to, along with the appropriate baby noises, to about 30 different trees, Dauminique and I realize Kristine’s aesthetical tastes have not yet fully matured.

Nearly every tree she selected had a resident squirrel or bird residing in it and birds and squirrels are not allowed in our apartment building, so her selections were not working out.

Staring into a three mile long stretch of potential Christmas trees, Dauminique and I stood in silence.

While we were standing and staring in silence, Kristine got her first lesson in gravity as her sleigh made its way down the slope Dauminique and I were looking up.

After a few “Yaddledwhos” from Kristine we found her still sitting in the sleigh at the bottom of the hill with a perplexed yet proud look on her face.

Bending down to check her out I got a smack in the cheek from an over excited little arm pointing to a tree behind me.

It had no nests and sported a discarded chip bag and an orange piece of flagging tape in an effort to communicate its desire to be a Christmas tree. Right away we knew we had found a fine specimen of the elusive wild Canadian Christmas tree.

Having Kristine and Dauminique look the other way, I opened my knife to cut down the tree.

Kneeling down to the tree I said, “This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you,” which it did. After numerous knuckle busters and face scrapes from low branches, the tree finally gave in and toppled over.

Hauling the tree quickly to the van and home it was soon recovered from its trauma thanks to a warm pot of sugar water.

Kristine still has to go up and move an ornament here and there but once the tree was all dressed for Christmas it ended up quite a happy fellow.

I am a bit worried though.

It’s been in the sugar water solution for almost a week and there are no signs of roots starting to grow again, but I’m sure they’ll start growing soon.