Trees are a living organism, and the ones that were cut down to be a part of my log cabin seem to harbor a little resentment. Maybe they all don’t get along and don’t care to be saddle notched together providing warmth and protection to the vary person that chainsawed them into submission.

Or possibly since they are South Dakota trees they aren’t comfortable being placed in a Montana forest. I don’t know, but whatever it is they are a disgruntled bunch of timber. I guess you could say they have a chip on their shoulder, please forgive the lameness of that statement.

How do I know this? They are relentless in their quest to maim or injure all that come in contact with them. This past weekend my brother Gabe unwittingly put himself in harms way by agreeing to come to Montana and help myself and my good friend Paul put our cabin together.

Thankfully nobody sustained any serious injuries although there were NUMEROUS close calls. You know the kind of close calls that make your eyes wide and voice high followed by hysterical laughter. The laughter only antagonized the logs to be more creative in their attempts to render one of us unconscious.

I’m not sure why close encounters with the grim reaper made Gabe, Paul and myself laugh like idiots. Other than the fact that after three days without shaving, showering, or changing clothes we resembled three carnies training for some sort of midway log rolling game. Step right up folks, plenty of thrills, spills and stench.

I apologize to any carnie folk that I may have offended with that last statement. I’m sure your jobs aren’t all the glitz and glamour that we believe them to be and in no way do I believe myself to be qualified for the rigors of your profession. I tried living the dream but I never made it past the first round of interviews, it seems that my full set of teeth were a major disqualifier.

Anyway, back to the timbers of terror. Paul and myself have been working on this cabin for about 2 years and it is finally nearing completion. I’ve wanted a log cabin ever since I watched my first episode of “Grizzly Adams” about 25 years ago. The dream is slowly becoming reality now I just have to grow a beard, befriend a bear, and find a skunk named Joshua. Feel free to insert your own smart comment here.

I’m sure my parents are pleased that I chose to pursue the Grizzly Adams childhood dream over the Evil Kenievil option. Gabe seems to have pursued that one, either that or he mistook his snowmobile for a row boat.

His daredevil help was greatly appreciated by his not as young brother. Thankfully all we have to show for the trip to Montana is some sore muscles and a cabin. Oh yeah and lots of stories of harrowing deeds ending in hilarity.

On that note, when you ask Gabe about what happened in Montana please keep in mind that he will exaggerate anything that pokes fun at me. For instance, I do not scream like a girl when a log threatens my life.