Here come the killers

Up where I live near the village of Red Feather Lakes, there’s a phenomenon now going on that happens every year  starting the day after Thanksgiving and continuing almost up till Christmas Day.

I call it the invasion of the tree killers.

Caravans of pickups, SUVs and vehicles of every description head up County Road 74E from U.S. 287 and point south.

Passing them coming down that same road are lines of the same type vehicles heading back south. But tied in the pickup bed or strapped to the top of virtually every one of these vehicles is a fir tree bound for its Christmas duty.

Inside the tree-laden vehicles you can see the faces of the occupants, some smiling with the satisfaction of having bagged the perfect tree, others staring straight ahead as if contemplating tree-cuttings of years gone by.

I probably shouldn’t be trying to read too much into their expressions. I, too, probably often stare blankly into the horizon as I drive down the road. And who knows what I’m pondering?

But back to the tree killers.

I know that loading up the kids and heading for the mountains to cut a Christmas tree is a time-honored tradition for many. And it can’t help but put a smile on your face when you see a young family scurrying around a tree farm or cutting area looking for that just-perfect Christmas icon to take home and decorate with colored lights and a star or an angel on top.

But I find it extremely ironic that – in this time of pine beetle kill and huge swaths of our forests gone dead and brown – we’re still taking out these defenseless evergreens in our holiday killing frenzy.

OK, I know that most of these trees were grown expressly to become Christmas trees. It’s their fate -m  their karma – if you will. They’re simply fulfilling the reason they were planted in the first place.

My hat’s off to the tree farmer who, like the cattle rancher, simply grows something that has a specific mission in life – to become a Christmas tree or a steak.

But there is an alternative. You could spring for a fake tree – and there are some really nice ones now – and lose the tree-killer guilt.

I did it. So could you.

And there’s something kind of warm and Christmassy about getting out the fake tree from its rest-of-the-year nesting place in the garage or closet and having the whole family put it together over eggnog and holiday cookies.

So have I made you feel sufficiently guilty yet?

I doubt it. Giving up their real Christmas tree is something many people would say is almost un-American.

But think about it: No needles shedding all over the place. No fire danger. Nothing to keep watering.

OK, real Christmas tree holdouts. I realize I probably haven’t changed your minds. Enjoy your real tree and its fresh, outdoorsy smell and general realness.

Just do me one favor: Don’t toss it in a dumpster the day after Christmas. Recycle it into mulch and keep it useful.
So it will not have died in vain.

We owe it that much.

Merry Christmas.   

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