The bush an oasis in 'dog days' of winter

 

Dead, gray balsam in center should be good

A good workout for my body and a respite for my soul in mid-winter is to cut dead balsam trees for firewood. 

I snowshoe around on my trails and peer through the bush for the proper tree. It needs to be vertical with absolutely no needles - not even one ancient red one -- and have bark that is splitting. Frequently the trunk and branches will be covered with Old Man's Beard, a lichen.

As I find candidate trees I will at first mark the place with a piece of flagging tape. Later I will leave the easy-going packed trail to make a new one over to the tree. There I give the tree a closer inspection. I hate to cut down a tree only to find it is partially green inside. If it is, I leave it right there. It will be too heavy for me to drag out with my toboggan and won't be worth anything for firewood either. But if my eye is good, the wood will be sound and light and burn well.

Doc waits for me on the long trail back to the woodshed

It is cumbersome to cut down the tree, then cut it into four-foot lengths while on snowshoes but it is still better than sinking to my hips sometimes in the deep snow. I can drag out most trees in two or three trips, each one taking a half-hour or so. 

Tucked back into the bush the way I am the temperature never seems cold. As long as it is sunny, it feels great to be outside, even if the thermometer reads -20 C (0 F).

The whitetail deer know what I'm doing and come running when they hear the chainsaw. By the time I make my second trip they are standing around the tree munching on the Old Man's Beard. 

Chickadees and nuthatches always investigate the activity as well. Flies and other bugs under the bark can come spilling out on the snow as I work.

No dead balsam here but those birches will be what I'm after come spring