An old rusty and broken saw was all I had. But with the wet season in full force the Caribbean almond tree had grown too large. Its ever expanding branches encroached mercilessly on our favorite flamboyant tree and blocked our view of the hillside and bays below us. Would the stressed flamboyant tree be unable to blossom this year and feed our hungry herd of iguanas? No doubt. The almond invader had to go.
The Caribbean almond tree, Terminalia catappa, is unrelated to the tree that produces edible almonds. It sprouts up anywhere on the island and grows quickly. I had hoped it was a mango tree or a key lime tree which would soon bear us some delicious fruit. But no luck.
This tree had decided to live on a 45 degree slope surrounded by loose rocks near a bundle of thorny “catch and keep” bushes below our new deck. Here you sometimes have to make do with what you have to meet the challenges of the day. So, covered up with long pants and sleeves, and a mismatched pair of gloves which was all I could find, I popped on my Beach Bar cap and my Maui Jim sunglasses to protect my eyeballs. I was ready for anything. Armed with an extendable pruning saw with an incredibly dull and rusty blade, I eased into the jungle which is our backyard.
The cool prevailing Caribbean breeze on our deck quickly gave way to the oppressive heat and humidity you would expect on land that had previously been a Danish cotton plantation. Fortunately no snakes here for centuries because the French brought the mongoose who ate them all. But there is the terrifyingly toxic manchineel tree with its poisonous “death apples” that Christopher Columbus’s crew fatally discovered on his second voyage here in 1493. And I don’t know what it looks like.
Then there’s the stinging nettle plants whose long thorns are like hypodermic needles and inject histamine below your skin when you bump into them intensifying the painful burn. Don’t touch anything unless you know what it is.
And the Christmas bush, which is very common throughout the island contains urishiol, similar to poison ivy. Contact with this plant causes burning, itching rashes and lesions that can spread if untreated. Great.
I am watching out for Jack Spaniard wasp nests. No relation to Captain Jack Sparrow but still packs a sting that would make a pirate cry. These wasps are very aggressive and will chase you down if you disturb their nest. Each can sting you five times with their strong venom which is a major antigen that requires a specific antidote if you are allergic to them. I’m pretty sure I’m not allergic.
And finally there are those pesky Arnold Schwartznegger body building mosquitoes which here seem to fly easily even on the windiest of days. They rarely may carry Dengue, Zika or Chikungunya diseases. Not today so they’re probably gone to workout.
A twig snaps. I hear a sound. Probably an iguana. A bird I don’t recognize flies by. A bug buzzes my ear. “Arnold” I mutter. Workout must be over. I swat at it. I miss. I slide further down the slope.
And then, there it is. The tree. I engage it with the blade several times finally getting the right angle with my feet placed at sturdy positions. Back and forth, over and over again I get a cut started. Deeper into the trunk slowly but surely, like a butter knife through a pineapple, I make progress. Just like my Dad taught me except he had a chain saw. I slip several times. Don’t grab anything. Sweating profusely and breathless but past the point of no return I press on. Just like my Mom, a legendary hard worker, taught me. She picked cotton as a child laborer so she would love this. My shoulders ache. My nose is running. Is it getting darker? An unknown thorny vine has wrapped itself around my leg. The blade falls off the handle. I retrieve it and stomp it back together. I should have bought a new saw I tell myself. I try a different angle with the saw.
Then through! The tree cracks and creeps. But does not fall. It remains suspended in the air, its trunk held magically aloft by the branches of our friendly flamboyant tree and all the other forces working against me. I rest a bit in disbelief.
Plan B. I grab the trunk with both hands. (I hope this is not a machineel tree.). I lean all my considerable weight plus the added pounds from all those Painkillers I’ve been drinking this week onto the tree. And we both start sliding down the slope. The trees above me creak and crack. The flamboyant lets go. And the almond tree follows me down the slope. Success.
The next morning we are greeted by a much better view of the blues and greens of the Caribbean Sea, a very happy flamboyant tree who has sprouted a few new orange blossoms during the night and four busy green iguanas enjoying their new home.
“Well done!” they seem to say.
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