In the Cold of the Night

The last few weeks have been pretty noisy in my neck of the woods. Some loggers have been cutting trees in the middle of the night, revving and roaring with the tree-cutting machinery (not chainsaws, those are just too old fashioned). While it's nice to hear that people are working, especially in these tough economic times, it gets to be a bit much when a team of guys shows up at 2AM to start cutting wood a quarter of a mile from your house.

Yes, all you city people are probably laughing right now. "Noise? You think you've got noise from a few logging trucks? Look out my window, man!" I can understand that some places never sleep, and the sounds of the city at night are equally, if not more, raucous than these loggers, but that's one reason I don't live in a city. I like my peace and quiet, and would rather not have heavy machinery being run at midnight.

There are no noise ordnances in Robbinston (to my knowledge), so people can do pretty much whatever they want. I'm sure if you started making too much of a racket, a State Trooper might show up, but not if you're doing something legitimate, like clear-cutting a wood lot. So, until these folks are done, I'll just have to listen to the engines all night.

Nighttime noise is not something you generally have in a rural Maine town, though I recall a neighbor who used to turn on his headlights and target practice at odd hours. Though, I don't mind the gunfire that much, for it is generally brief. You get two or three shots, and then silence, not constant "rummmmmm-rawww-clunk-rummmm-ratttle-rattle-rummmm!"

At 19 years old,
I was a wood-cuttin' man!

I am not some tree hugger who hates loggers. I've cut plenty of trees over the years, and appreciate the hard work that's involved with this necessary vocation. However, I simply can't stand these ridiculous hours! It'll be nice when these particular loggers are done with my neighbor's wood lot. Then I'll be able to get some sleep again.