JOY ALONG THE WAY: CHAIN SAW GANG PLAYS ON

On May 18th when the unicorn should have been out nibbling at the clover and fairies making their dancing circles in the grass, the chain gang descended upon my neighborhood -- the chain saw gang that is. They worked far into the night and for the next week. Some can still be heard playing their instruments.

I don't know how far chain saw sounds can be heard, but at one time I counted seven of them going at one time, some near, some far. It was a real heavy metal orchestra. One saw was a deep throated, "I mean business" tool playing fortissimo. Another was a musical scale upward saying in mezzo forte, "This is just a little, old six inch limb." Still others with higher, angry, waspish sounds filled in the gaps with pianissimo, forte, crescendo intensity.

It wasn't favorite music but I, too, comfort in knowing these saws were removing trees and tree limbs that were downed in our fair neighborhood.

I was away from home when the storm broke and came home to find the top of my favorite tree, the saw-toothed oak that shades my back porch, provided a playhouse for the squirrels and nesting sites for the robins, was down.

Two limbs from a sweet gum, four from the sugar maples were down. Old, tall pink dogwoods were damaged by the downing of the big twisted power line running across the back. Three or four sections of the ornamental lattice fence were demolished. The big red bird feeder was smashed to smithereens. The birds that frequented it fly around, making quizzical sounds with head-cocked consternation.

To put the power line back up required limb cutting. Maybe a crew cut could describe the trimming.

On my premises there only three casualties -- three baby robins that had been thriving in the oak tree nest. The parent robins made me so sad as they flew around for days, looking for their lost babies and making sorrowful little cheeps. Family values are still intact in the class Aves.

Everything isn't quite back to normal, never will be, in fact, for the view has been changed. However, the area that never had sunshine before looked so happy basking in the new light. I'm sure the unicorn took shelter in his vaporous way and will be back.

I may never hear the heavy metal chain saw concert again. That's all right with me.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.