Responsible Christmas tree ownership

Last week we took our annual trip to cut a Christmas tree. Those of you who value convenience in completing holiday chores will think we are crazy. Why go up on the mountain for a tree when you could have a artificial one which would only require a trip to the basement? But then how much fun is that?

We don’t really have to go far, and this year we didn’t even have to get our feet wet or cold.

I know life is about being responsible, not having fun. I’ve been telling my kids that for years. I began to wonder about the extent of that responsibility when I learned while picking up tree permits that things may have changed a bit. It seems that the permitting process has undergone some restrictive changes. What else is new? I only wanted to cut a tree, not adopt one.

Well, it worked out, but I began to wonder about our traditional tree harvesting. Could I possibly be overstepping the bounds of social responsibility by choosing a live fragrant tree instead of a manufactured one?
I thought going organic was a good thing. Just how green does this tree have to be?

So, after the fact, I checked the websites to see whether cutting a live tree could possibly be politically or environmentally incorrect.

I found out that fir or pine “holiday” trees last longer—as opposed to what other kinds I couldn’t tell you. And there really are organic trees. They are raised on farms where very few fertilizers or chemicals are used. (Hey, the trees I cut are as organic as they get since they raise themselves without help of any kind.)

Artificial trees on the other hand are made from PVC and could possibly emit bad tree gases. In addition they are made in Japan or China and leave big tree prints by virtue of being shipped long distances. On the other hand, again, most are already strung with lights and relieve the owner from excessive handling of the some kinds of lights which may have lead in them.

One website suggested taking a walk in the forest to enjoy the trees in their natural habitat instead of having one of any kind, which translated means “do without a tree,” and which led me to grumble something about taking a hike yourself.

Doing without is what we nearly had to do the first year we moved back to the Basin after living away for several years, and it was a rather traumatic experience. It seems we delayed a little too long in going to buy a tree at the tree lots. There was not a tree anywhere in town. We learned that not many trees are sold in the stores because most people actually go and cut their own.

We finally scrounged a tree from a friend who had decorated with short, obese spruces at a wedding reception. It was the tree I would “dubs” for you if we were playing “There’s Your Tree” as we usually do while riding to the forest to cut one.

So rather than be stuck with “your tree,” after that we got the permit and cut our own. At least we had no one to blame but ourselves if when we got it home it looked like Snoopy’s master had picked it out.

So over the years, we have added Christmas tree hunting stories to the vast collection of family hunting lore. There was the year that our dog jumped out of the truck and bounded off through the snow, never to be seen again. If someone picked him up thinking they had found a good hunting dog, they were mistaken. (There are unexpected benefits.)

One year when the snow up there was especially deep, wading through it waist-high was the only way to see how tall that tree (at least 30 feet from the road) really was. The snow was piled up alongside the road as high as a car, which uncharacteristically kept us from getting stuck that year. But one of our tall high-schoolers climbed up the berm and jumped off the other side. He was nearly never seen again as well. When Father B. climbed the berm to check on his progress, all he saw was his hat.

If Christmas is about experiences and relationships, then we are doing the right thing. If it ever becomes about saving fuel and time, then we have thought of a helpful solution. While the guys are up there hunting for deer or elk in the fall (which activity is never about fuel or time) and they spot the perfect tree, they can “GPS” its location. In late November, we can drive right to it and be back home in the time it takes someone to go to the basement and haul up the plastic.

Meanwhile, we can say we did our part to reduce CO2 emissions by cutting three trees.