Handsaws.

There's nothing quite like being able to climb out an entire crown with just a handsaw. Pulling up a chainsaw can be annoying, although it is sometimes necessary. In each instance, I find that different handsaw placements can be beneficial to certain situations.
Typically my first and favorite placement is the leg mounted saw, with leg straps or the popular sawpod mounting system. I find that when I'm working large crown cleanings and the specs are to remove deadwood of a smaller diameter, I know that some work positions will be challenging, and usually of a horizontal nature at the ends of branches. Because of this, I don't like to be poking around for a dangling scabboard that's attached to my saddle while my core is burning to be released. I can give myself the advantage by moving my leg to a position that easily allows me to access my saw while fighting a not so favorable position.
On the other hand, when an operation calls for a longer duration of spar work and standing on gaffs, a scaboard that's mounted on the saddle may be the ticket. Climbing in an upright position doesn't favor bending over to grab a saw that's mounted on the leg, although some climbers out there may digress. Also, a leg mounted scaboard over gaffs can cause some unnecessary bulk, which is my biggest turnoff. Plus, during a removal situation that requires blocking out big wood, a handsaw won't do much good except for cleaning some small suckers out of the way or finishing a few fibers of a cut.
For me it's a question of mobility and economy. When I see tougher working positions and a lot of movement through the crown, the leg-mounted saw is my favorite option. A situation like a conifer removal or some type of other heavy spar work causes me to switch my saw placement over to the saddle.
I've even seen a fixed scabboard on the climbing saddle. This seems to converge the concept behind each postion. Rather than the saw dangling from the saddle, it remains fixed in place so that returning the saw is the same always.
I know there will be the argument out there by many arborists that they are creatures of habit, and that they benefit from having the same saw placement all the time. For me, it's as easy as having two hand saws set up for each situation. I keep a section in my utility body reserved for all things pruning, and two pruning saws of each nature really doesn't eat up that much space.
It's really a matter of convienance, as well as considering the task at hand. Personally, I like options.

Limits.

It seems nowadays there is a tool and a piece of gear for everything. And then the combinations of those tools are endless as well, so we're left with this limitless web of gear and tool combinations that sometimes almost seems silly. I look down at my saddle, I feel it's weight and I am saddedned as it struggles to slide off my hips, burdened by all of the slings and pulleys and carabiners that I 'may' need at some point throughout a climbing operation. And maybe even more than that, it just looks cool, so we load it up for the photo op.
I think I once heard the phrase, "the more you know the less you need." Well, I'd argue that the more I know, the more I want, and I'm sure there's many climbing arborists out there that would agree with me.
I'm starting my week off with a good friend of mine who has a company out of town, two hours south of my home base. We have family in the area, so it works out that my wife and I load up the little Honda Civic with the baby and the astounding amount of non-related tree gear that he needs, and I get to save a very small space in the trunk for my tree gear.
This causes me a great deal of anxiety, because I really need to shave the pounds, and I'm typically a heavyweight when in comes to packing. Although I know the loose scope of work, (most likely I'll be setting chokers for a crane assisted removal) my mind wanders to all of the lovely kit I own, and my heart breaks when I can't fit those things in the trunk space.
I didn't bring gaffs, and although they are nice to have in removal scenarios, I hate them. Let me stress that again, I hate climbing with gaffs on. Maybe I'm the only person in the world that would show up to a crane job without gaffs, but because I left them behind, this eases some the anxiety for me. So I'm a few pounds lighter already.
I typically keep two 150' hanks of rope in my climb bag, so I took one hank out and left that in my work truck as well. Immediately, the tremors of worry creep back in, "what if a need to double crotch a massive limb walk?" More with less, right?
I'm typically good for one stuck throwball in a typical morning, so I'm always rolling with two cubes, and I'll never pass up the opportunity to double-bag a crotch. But remember, I need to limit myself and show some type of self control, so I slowly slip one cube into my climb bag and make amends with that.
Finally, my leg mounted hand saw slides in and my kask helmet fully equipped with my Sena communication system goes in last. On my saddle there is my lanyard package, rope runner, ascenders and two slings each equipped with carabiners. Oh yea, and my topheld chainsaw with gas and oil in a separate bin.
In all reality, I know this gear will be sufficient. Hell, I may not even use the slings. but I'm still feeling like I'm limited in the arsenal I've brought simply because I've gone from having an entire utility box filled with tree gear to a small 3'x2' trunk space to determine my performance as a contractor.
Limiting oneself can be beneficial in many ways. Personally, I sometimes build uneccessary dependencies on gear that may be in many situations wasteful and redundant. Sure, in one instance in can be a deal breaker, but then I'll find myself forcing it into other applications where it just slows down the process and confuses things. Keep it simple, stupid, right? This time, I only have what I need, and I may not even have a few things that I need. Although this causes a bit of worry at first, I feel a lot better than I did originally, as if there has been a huge weight lifted from my saddle. Then again, it's the morning of the job, I haven't even seen the tree yet and I'm sure that on the drive in that anxiety will somehow manage to perspire from my brow until the saw dust soaks it up.