I am crazy like the rest of them.

I'm going planting in one week. I don't know why I'm feeling a bit of anxiousness, but I am. Part of it is probably the fact that I'm absolutely broke and am praying I'll make some money in a month's work. Part of it is fearing not being part of the atmosphere that's grown since the beginning of the season. I think that's pretty important to get along with the rest of the camp. I don't know what I'm really worrying about. I just am. I know, in reality, I'll be fine.

But for a trip down memory lane, read on to the tips and mini adventures that come of tree planting. Many of these adventures involve Niki.

Bears. They are where the smelly things are. There was one outside my tent the second night of camp. Right after we had the "bear talk" in a meeting. Maybe it was our tent neighbour's snoring. I guess I'll never know. Hell, it was scary either way. Niki was my tent neighbour, too. Observation of the night: Niki, you have an amzing set of lungs. I think your "BEAR!" scream was by far much louder than my bear whistle. Tip: Keep your whistle on you at all times, keep your shouting voice in practice, and camp far away from the slough with the dead beaver in it.


What to do if you get left behind on the block at the end of the day. Well, with the help of the 36 hour lead up to being left on the block, you will, totally by chance, have extra food, water, and clothes. You will bury your garbage. You will keep yourself entertained with your best pal, who also just happens to be stuck with you, by singing, practicing your bo-staff skills, playing checkers (incorrectly) in the dirt with stones and clumps of mineral soil, and perfecting your shovel-toss skills. You will plan out what to do if a bear comes along, and out how to sleep for the night just in case they don't come back for you. You will just happen to be 'seeing' a guy in camp for the sole purpose of him noticing that you're not back for supper. You will stay totally calm during the ordeal, and laugh so hard you cry. You will moon the bastards when they come and get you late at night with a cold meal and beer. You will make your foreman cry for leaving you. Finally, you will go back to the same piece the next day, only to realize that the back of it is really shitty, and come to the realization that you're really pissed about the whole ordeal of the night before. You get mad at the crappy mounds you have to plant. You feel better when you see a deer in the middle of the day, and it's all over.

Be good to the cooks. They are really good people and make great friends. They appreciate the compliments and extra help. Also, not that this was my motive in the slightest, it was just a discovery, but if you take care of them, they take care of you. Big time. Birthday cake, secret stashes of desert, and whiskey in the mail after the season is done. Sweet. In general, be good to everyone. It makes life so much easier.

Stay away from yellow buses. They break down all the time. They get stuck up to the axles in mud, and they almost always have a super crazy (and by "crazy", I mean "bad) driver. Haaglund (aka haagler) Swedish tanks are also no good. Basically, anything that isn't a helicopter should be avoided. Heh. Imagine twenty-some planters pushing the damned thing out of the mud. Assume almost every last vehicle with any sort that our company owned got stuck at some point or another--at least once each.

That's all folks. I'll try to keep this updated frequently with new adventures. Take care. See you all in August.