Imagine giants covered with armies of miniature soldiers all wielding swords, ready to defend themselves from any unknowing creature that happens by, and only naive creatures go near them because once you've tangled with a Honey Locust you will avoid them like the plague.
Unless they stand between you and your pecan orchard.
Most ranchers would relocate the orchard rather than deal with the trees. Not us.
We hack them to bits and haul their dead bodies to the sawmill.
Hubs spent fourteen hours one day during the Christmas break exacting his revenge for every cut, stab, and poke that he has endured from the Honey Locusts.
And the results were beautiful.
|I wish we could have left it unfinished, but it would have lasted only two seasons under the harsh Texas sun.|
|The red is from the wood, the toner/sealer had no red in it.|
The felled wood laid by the wood pile for a long while, allowing the carpenter ants to burrow those cool holes through the rock-hard wood. A pain to stain, but worth the effort. A strong solid piece of furniture built solely from the extermination of the enemy.
A win-win I'd say.