I am a new dog owner. Her name is Indy, she's an Australian Cattle Dog and it's been a real treat attempting to train her for the job site. My intentions is that she'll be a great worksite dog, sleeping in the truck, guarding the saws and hopefully fetching blocks and taglines in no time.
As with any new endeavor, I'm doing my fair share of research and came across a great book by The Monks of Skete entitled: How To Be Your Dog's Best Friend. You see, these monks are world renowned breeders of German Shepherds, and highly sought out dog trainers as well. Their approach to dog training is rather holistic and focuses very much on the relationship that exists between dog and owner. Of course, as I read I find myself reflecting on being a tree climber, and the specific relationship that I share with the trees I climb and care for.
The book reads, "obedience training can be allied with spiritual discipline both to train your dog and to train yourself. The difficulty with many approaches to training is that they focus entirely on the dog and not on the trainer. In such a context of unreflective behavior, all that really matters is the particular technique and the end result it achieves. The trouble is, such overkill has a profound effect on the relationship. "Whatever works" is an excuse used to justify training techniques that, when looked at closely, not only lack sensitivity but are ethically questionable" (page 97).
This passage from the book struck such a cord with me that it inspired this entry. I immediately related this to the work I do as a production arborist. After all, maintenance pruning is just that, the training of a tree to fit in harmoniously with it's environment, the people and structures around it, in a healthy manner. Isn't that so often times the case, that we get so caught up in the end result, finishing the job and moving quickly on to the next task, that sometimes a "whatever works" attitude takes hold. Sure, maybe there's some of you out there that are so spiritually in tune with your trees that this may not apply, but I think for the majority of us, there is a bit of that unreflective behavior that trickles out. All that matters is that the cut is right and clean and that the end result works. The problem is, there's no real relationship with that tree, just the specs or the work order, and on to the next one.
Well, this can be problematic with trees and dogs alike. The arborist has a duty to reflect on what they do as professionals, especially when people are going to pay good money for your service. I think that this special relationship between arborist and tree (or dog and trainer), is what separates the good from the great. A great arborist no doubt will have a spiritual connection with the trees they work in. They won't necessarily do what's easy for them as a climber or rigger, but rather what's best for the tree. Maybe this means going an extra 15 or 20 feet further to place a healthier cut, installing an extra cable, or cleaning up a pole pruning cut that's just too nasty to leave, even though no one will ever see it. And sure, they'll be people who argue "you can't make money that way," to which I respond, "you can't make money any other way". This is what is so important in the care of trees, is that we reflect on everything that we do; with the tree, and not just ourselves, in mind. Let's be honest about who things are really working out for.
Another great point that The Monks talk about in the book as far as dog training goes is the ability to leave non-related training issues aside. For example, if you're having a bad day, issues at work, issues at home or other ailments from a different sphere of life, try to clear that from the training atmosphere as to not put that weight onto the dog. The session will go better when there is a clear focus on the relationship between dog and trainer, minus any outside influences that can cloud the air.
This rings true as an arborist as well. Things will not always be working out in different spheres of life, and it becomes so easy for those emotions to leak into other endeavors, especially work. Try to treat climbing and arboriculture as a meditation, where you take a deep breath and let go of those distractions so that you can focus all of your energy on the tree. In other words, don't justify bad pruning cuts or dangerous rigging situations on the fact that you are in a bad mood. Leave that juju out of the crown. It can be such a healthy thing, for both the climber and the tree, when this type of unobtrusive relationship transpires.
As I write this Indy is sleeping and I am not in the trees. But I am trying to get in touch with my spiritual side, and reflect a bit on my work as an arborist and a dog owner. Maybe a lot of you don't have dogs, but I'm sure many of you have cared for hundreds, if not thousands, of trees out there. And even if you've lost a few contracts along the way, each and every tree that you've cared for is a reflection of you as an arborist. Once in a while you better stop to think about if that's the right man or woman in the mirror. Because just as a dog is man's best friend, the arborist should also be a tree's best friend.
