The Midnight Bang (a.k.a. The Great Tree Tumble of 2025)

The other night, I was doing what all hard-working farm folks do best—sleeping like a rock. That is, until BANG! A noise so loud and sudden, it shot me straight up out of bed with a heart rate that could rival a hummingbird’s. Naturally, my first thought was “Intruder!” Or maybe “Exploding water heater?” Or even “Has Teddy finally figured out how to launch himself from his cage?”

But nope. After creeping around the house like a cautious ninja, I saw nothing. No signs of chaos. Nothing. So I chalked it up to a weird dream and went back to sleep.

Ah, but the next morning... mystery solved.

She may be little, but she is fierce. Meet the MVP of branch management: Little Baby Chainsaw. Bite-sized with big attitude. 🔥🪵

A tree.

A bigish tree.

Had fallen.

Right. Outside. My. Bedroom.

Now, to be clear—this was not one of those majestic old oaks that would take out half the house and make the evening news. This was more of an “I can cause a mess and scare you half to death, but I’m not strong enough to break anything important” kind of tree. Which, frankly, I appreciate. If you’re going to fall on my house, at least have the courtesy to be dramatic without being destructive.

Unfortunately, the poor chicken tractor caught the brunt of the fall. Thankfully, the flock was safe and very vocal about the rude intrusion. Jovi, rooster-in-chief, seemed personally offended. I'm not sure if he was mad about the tree or the fact that I didn’t bring snacks with the apology.

So, cleanup began! I enlisted my trusty farm companions:

• The tractor (a.k.a. Big Boy)

• The Gator (Gertrude, because of course she has a name)

• Little Baby Chainsaw (small but sassy)

• And an axe that hasn’t seen action since I last decided to pretend I was a pioneer woman.

"Loader? I hardly know her. But seriously—this scooper saved the chicken tractor from a tree tragedy. Big Boy doing some heavy lifting while I whispered encouraging words like, "Please don’t drop it."

First, I used the loader to lift the tree off the chicken tractor—very carefully, mind you, because I’d rather not test the structural integrity of a coop that was already part of a surprise lumber sandwich. Then I took Little Baby Chainsaw to the medium branches. That brave little motor buzzed its heart out, tackling limbs like it had something to prove.

Once the branches were cleared, I chucked them into Gertrude and made multiple trips to the brush pile. I’m not saying she’s slow, but let’s just say we had time to bond during the rides.

Gertrude the Gator looking like a proud mama after her fourth trip to the brush pile. Meanwhile, the tractor's in the back like "I lifted that, thank you very much." 🚜🛻

Then came the stump. The tree had cracked, but not enough, so I took my axe, gave it a few satisfying whacks, and declared victory when it finally snapped like an old pretzel. Loader back in action, I moved the main trunk out of the way with a dramatic flourish and some well-earned sweat.

In the end, no damage, no injuries, and a mess that turned into a full-body workout. The chickens are now giving the tree stump the stink-eye, and I’ve promised the flock that no more “surprise renovations” will happen—at least not until the next big storm.

So here’s the moral of the story: if you ever wake up thinking a bear is launching itself through your living room wall, don’t panic. It might just be a tree saying “Good morning!” the loudest way it knows how.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to sharpen an axe, oil a chainsaw, and remind my trees that falling is not a team sport.

And that’s how you send a tree packing. Trunk loaded, chickens safe, chainsaw victorious. Mission: Messy Tree is officially complete. 🎯🌲