#treefellas

New Hampshire dark. The kind of cold that means business.

I'm already dressed, already running the job in my head — a storm-split white pine out in Hooksett, two major limbs hanging suspended in the crown of a neighboring birch, maybe thirty feet up, pointed straight at a garage roof. A widow-maker situation. The homeowner called us the same night the storm came through.

We're first on site in the morning for a reason.

Loading the truck before sunrise is ritual. Ropes coiled clean. Climbing harness checked. Saw serviced the night before, chain freshly sharpened, because dull tools on a hazardous job aren't just inefficient — they're dangerous. I don't cut corners loading out. The mountain doesn't care about your excuses and neither does a hanging limb.

There's a stillness to the pre-dawn prep that I've come to need. It settles me before the day gets loud.

The homeowner is waiting at the end of her driveway when we arrive. She's got that look — arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes already up in the tree like she's been watching it since 2 a.m. Maybe she has.

"I didn't sleep," she says.

"I know. Let's fix that."

I walk her through the full plan before anything comes off the truck. Where we're anchoring. How we're releasing the suspended limbs in sequence so nothing free-falls. Where her garage is and exactly how we're keeping it out of the equation. She exhales about halfway through my explanation.

That exhale is part of the job. You're managing someone's trust, not just their tree.

By the time I'm clipped in and climbing, she's stepped back. That's when you know you've said the right things.

A compromised pine demands respect. You read it on the way up — every branch, every creak, the way the wood moves under your weight. I set my anchor carefully, weight it, trust my read.

Then the canopy closes around me and New Hampshire goes quiet.

It always happens like this. Even on the hard jobs — maybe especially on the hard jobs — there's a moment up high where everything stills. Just wind, just wood, just the work in front of you.

The saw bites in and the smell rises immediately. Fresh pine, sharp and clean, almost cold. Sawdust coating my arms within seconds. The vibration runs through my hands and wrists and I know it the way I know my own heartbeat.

First suspended limb releases clean. The rope goes taut, my guy reads the tension perfectly, and it swings wide and drops exactly where we planned.

We don't even have to say anything. That's what good teamwork looks like.

The second limb — the worse one, the one angled directly over the roofline — takes careful setup. Ten minutes of rigging for eight seconds of work. That ratio never changes. Preparation is the job. The cut is just the last right decision in a long chain of them.

It comes down clean.

I stay in the tree for a breath afterward. Grateful. Steady.

Cleanup is full and thorough. Brush hauled, debris cleared, the yard walked and raked. When the homeowner sees it she's quiet for a moment, just looking at the space where that threat used to live.

"Thank you," she says. Just that. But the way she says it means everything.

Those two words after a hard job — that's the whole reason.

Driving back through Hooksett, arms heavy, pine sap on my jacket, I think about what this work has built in me over the years.

Patience I didn't come with. You cannot rush a read on a dangerous tree. You think ahead or you don't work. It's made me physically capable in a way that only real labor produces. And it's made me accountable in my bones — someone's home is always in the equation, and I never once forget that.

This job made me who I am more than I made it anything.

What I think about when the gear comes off —

Tree Fellas serves Hooksett and the surrounding New Hampshire communities doing tree removal, trimming, pruning, storm cleanup, and stump grinding. But the thing I'm actually proud of is simpler. We communicate clearly before we ever start a job. We clean up completely — every time, no shortcuts. We show up when we say we will. Homeowners around here trust us with their worst emergencies and their everyday maintenance because we've earned that trust one honest job at a time.

No mess. No mysteries. Just work done right.

Tree Fellas

34 Staniels Rd Unit 2, Loudon, NH 03307