I can’t remember where in the timeline this story happened. Somewhere after the film canister event but before the stove pipe poles. It was either spring or fall, I’m not sure which, but there were no leaves on the trees yet. I’ll attempt to describe what happened and if you can visualize it, this will be well worth the read as it is the funniest of all my stories.

Ok, here I go.

Since the 2 hook thing didn’t work, hubby (and I must admit I) thought perhaps we should string a feeder from one of the tall trees, but on a strong line (fishing trot line I suggested).

“See that branch way up there?” I ask. “There is no way a squirrel would climb down 12 feet on the line.” “Certainly that would do it,” he agrees.

Hmmmm, but how to manage that? None of our ladders are long enough to reach. We can get up to the branch, but not out to where we want to put the line. So after much thought, I come up with the “scathingly brilliant” idea of throwing a toss line over the branch, and then tying the hook to that. Then we could hang the feeder from this hook. Sounds good. Might even work.

“It’s worth a try” I say. It has to look better than strings with 35mm canisters hanging all over, I think. “You try it” hubby says. “I don’t think it will work”

So I try tossing a rope over the limb, but can’t get it. I ask hubby to try. He can’t get it either. It’s too far up and the rope just doesn’t have the weight to get it up there. So I tie a small sprinkler head to it for weight. It is all rounded, with no edges or points to get stuck, I think.

Hubby has gone off to work on something else.

So I start with gentle tosses to see how it goes and it seems to do Ok. I start harder tosses and begin to get it pretty close. Finally, I get it over the branch, but the weight isn’t quite heavy enough to get the sprinkler back down enough that we can grab it. So I pull it back and try again. This time just a little more ooomph to it.

Well, I got the ooomph all right. Enough to make that damn sprinkler head wrap around that branch about 6 times. The more I pulled on it, the more it wrapped around the line, the more it tangled.

Oh $#8!, I’m thinking. Now what? I keep trying, not willing to listen to hubby raz me on it. The more I pull, the worse it gets. I finally, go get him and ask for his assistance.
Remember that saying, two heads are better than one? This was an exception. Or maybe one head let the other do its thing before piping up and by then it was too late.

However, we decided we couldn’t let that line hang up in the tree with that sprinkler head attached. It was just too ugly. “The branch is dead anyway,” hubby says, “It’ll break off easy.”

So he tosses up a heavy, fluorescent green polyester rope and tries breaking off the branch. But the branch is stronger than he realized and wouldn’t break. Unfazed, he decides he’ll tie another rope to that one and tie that one to the back of the car and use the car to pull on the rope and break the branch.

Now picture this. The car is in the carport, which has a door leading to the deck. The deck is right in front of the tree with the branch. So he has to string the rope from the other rope and pull it over the deck and through the door to the car.

I’m wide eyed and cautioning “no” “I don’t think that is a good idea”. I’m picturing the whole damn tree falling on the deck, the carport and the car. I’m picturing the worst. Doomsday. The insurance company refusing to pay up because of our own stupidity.

But hubby, convinced it is the only way to get that ugly line out of the tree, ties the two ropes together and proceeds with his plan. I look up. How far away do I have to stand to be safe, I think. So I go there, plus back a few more feet.

Hubby starts to back the car up. I can see the rope getting taut. He’s slowly driving forward. The rope begins to rub against the top of the door. I’m biting my lip. He inches forward more. I can see the branch moving, pulling forward. The rope is taut, tauter, tauter. And all of a sudden bam. The knot in the rope gives, the rope springs back and flies through the air with enough force to wrap itself around the tree branch about 40 times.

Hubby comes running. I’m laughing. He’s cussing. We have this bright green flourescent rope hanging from the tree. Beyond our reach, even with our longest ladder.

“Well, when the leaves are on the tree, it will hide it” I say. He cusses. “The branch will fall down with the first strong wind,” I say. He cusses some more.

That green rope hangs there to this day. And every time someone asks “what is that in the tree?” I have to fess up and tell the story.