Where Are My Log Tongs?

Visit a demonstration of their use

Ours were not yellow but they worked well for what we needed.  The color only matters when you've lost them. And, yes, tongs are plural for one set.  No one could use a tong thus it is tongs...because I said so.

For weeks Hubby has been edging fields and looking up in trees for his lost tongs.  He asked me, Have you seen my tongs?  Nope but I bet they're right where you left them.  "Right where you left them/it" is a fighting phrase around here.  Neither one of us wants to be reminded that we lose things...a lot.

I think they were used in an early spring clean up hauling things to the "bone yard".   (Here it's not junk at all but a parts store).  Old equipment that might be broken but there still could be a use for parts or can be fixed when we need it.  They all go here to die like the elephant's graveyard featured in the 1932 Tarzan movie with Johnny Weissmuller.

That's where he found them.  Right Where He Left Them.  In the bone yard where he had taken the broken basket ball post and goal (we had two, one broke in a strong storm).

Due to tornado, ice, drought, disease and life in general trees fall.  It's a fact, no matter how beautiful they are, they die.  During our floods of spring many fallen trees were in the creek.  Not good, that causes the water to back up and do more damage.  Almost like when trees were floated down river to the sawmills, there are log jams.  We don't have dynamite nor would we use it for this if we had some.  These dams do wreck havoc on fences, land, and things in general.

Thus our search for the log tongs which, by the way, WERE right where he left them.  He has worried and looked for these so long he had a solution so this will not happen again.

 Please note the color and he made sure I saw where he put them this time.  Now when he forgets he can say, I told you where I put them.

Now we can begin.  When I get brave enough to wade into the summer's growth to clip these tongs onto a log where the tractor can't go.  When I get brave enough to wade into the edges of the creek where the Cotton Mouths and Copperheads stay.  I will drag these heavy tongs into the deep unknown.  I will close them until they get a 'bite" on the log and motion for Tractor Man to lift it out.

We will make a pile here and there for the wild life to nest or hide or play where the high waters can't reach.  We will wait for the logs to feed the land.  

Just a hundred and forty-nine acres to go.