My first job with a surveying company was rear chain man on a three man crew. I had few duties; carry everything, cut line and hold the zero (idiot end) of a chain while measuring. There was a shallow learning curve and I was eager to learn.
Rupert Hunt was the front rod/chain man and it was his job to teach me “the ropes”. On my first day, our crew was tasked to establish the boundary of 1200 acres for a timber company. When we arrived at the job site, Rupert handed me a bush axe, a huge bag of stuff and said, “follow me”. He, then I, walked through a long hallway sliced through thick underbrush. We came to a solid barrier of green at the end of the passage. Rupert halted, adjusted his equipment and said, “come on Boo Boo” (a reference to Yogi Bear’s sidekick meshed with Bob, my first name). This guy was fun, gave people nicknames and loved surveying. He slid through the cat-claw briars and tangle of branches like a fish among water reeds. I got whipped and scratched in the first few feet. Were I a fish, I’d have drowned.
He was a hundred feet ahead of me in a flash. He had cut just enough limbs to see his silhouette. He had stopped, put down his equipment and was holding a range pole vertically in front of his body when I reached him. “Ready for line Chief,” he yelled. “Left a hair; Hold,” the reply from the green wall behind me. “Plumb,” barked Rupert. “Good. Cut and run, boys. I want a quarter mile today,” yelled the Chief.
“Cut back to the gun Boo Boo. I’ll go ahead. Catch up when you’re through.” I dropped the pack, took the axe and whacked away. The trees and bushes fought back. Vines and roots tangled my feet, sweat blinded me in seconds and I thought I’d bleed to death from the briar slashes before reaching the chief. It took forever.
The chief had the instrument set up and told me to walk to the back sight and give him zero. I trekked the five hundred feet where the second range pole was stabbed in the ground. I took my plumb bob from the sheath and held it steady above the tacked stake at my feet. Eternity passed as I spent all my energy and focus on holding the damn thing perfectly still. Finally, I heard a faint, “Got it”. “Don’t forget to bring that rod with you”.
I returned to the instrument and the complaint, “Boy, that string was like a kite in a Tor-ninja (his word for tornado). You’ve got to brace up with the range pole”. He showed me how to use the rod to steady the plumb bob. “Go catch Rufus,” his command after the lesson, “and get him to show you that Gum Pow shit he knows”.
I stumbled through the debris I’d cut and walked easily over and through the trail Rupert had cut. “What does the chief mean by Kung Pao”, I asked when I reached him. “The chief has his own language, by choice, and wants me to show you how to cut line using the Karate methods I learned. I showed Chief my techniques once and it impressed him, but not enough to call me by my given name. I’ll forever be Rufus to him.”
“Take the blade and use acute angles for small limbs”. He hooked a twig and it followed his blade as he rotated. “Use the flat edge on larger limbs at the point of least resistance”. He swung (with an over handed loop) toward a two inch branch where it met the tree. The branch severed cleanly. “Sweep the brush aside as you go before the next thing is cut”. “Consider it a dance. You’re a Forester, consider the tree, the flex of Willow, the density of Oak and Hickory, use enough force appropriate for the moment”. He turned and the greenery parted smoothly before his skillful moves. I was highly impressed.
I practiced every step of the way during the time circling the Timber boundary. Rufus started calling me “Buzzsaw” instead of Boo Boo because of my new ability. The chief continued to call me Boy.
Outdoors is your Dojo, adventurers