I’ve always been puzzled concerning attitudes (other) people take toward pests. Most folks have not qualms about poisoning a mouse or rat, thereby causing agonizing death to the critter. On the other hand, some of those same people rail against humanely shooting a deer that may be causing far more mischief. Maybe it’s simply the deer’s size, relative to the rat, or those big ears or languid brown eyes.

The same mindset is evident with plant pests. Out comes the poison (read that Roundup) or the guillotine (read that hoe) when the crabgrass sprouts in May, while the lousy sweetgum or elm that hangs over the house roof, just waiting to fall, is considered sacrosanct. There’s nothing more sacrosanct about weed tree that there is about any other weed, but the potential for havoc is immensely greater. Say crabgrass is a Zebra firecracker, then the sweetgum would be an atomic bomb with a short fuse.

So, yes, I’m the guilty party who recommended the extermination of the sweetgum, the elm and the ash at the Heritage Center. You can quit calling Suzanne Jackson and raising Cain with her. Just call me. On second thought, don’t call me, I’ll call you.

Landscaping plans at the Heritage Center call for a planting of boxwoods at the house foundation. Squarely in their allotted space stood the elm and the sweetgum, a massive specimen that was leaning over the roof. Sooner or later it would have been in the roof at the hands of wind or ice. The elm was standing stoically, awaiting its death sentence from Dutch elm disease. The monster ash, on the windward side of the house, and in direct line with its north side, had long since been hollowed (not hallowed) from insects and disease. The doddering old fool was an accident waiting to happen.

The Heritage Center board approved (wisely, in my humble opinion) the removal of the trees, and the die was cast. Enter the chainsaws and stump grinders and in a couple of days the deed (good, not bad) was done. The trees are gone and of course a huge hole in the sky is there in their stead. It will take a while to get used to it, but you will.

It’s not as if there were no other trees on the property. Fortunately there are several better trees, well placed for afternoon shade, and even some understory dogwoods, etc. that have been in situ for a number of years.

Sometimes trees hold such strong nostalgic attraction by virtue of their planter’s esteem held by his or her descendants that no one can screw up the courage to remove them. In the present case, such was not a problem, for I believe the sweetgum and the elm, at least, were probably bird- or wind-sown. The ash might have been purposely and humanly planted, but it was on its last legs.

Though the sweetgum was nearly 3 feet in diameter, I doubt it predated the house. Sweetgums grow very fast. That’s one thing that makes them sorry trees, for quick growth means weak and brittle wood. The elm was smaller and elms too are rapid growers. Its roots, even if planning could have been done among them, would have strangled any thing to death.

So the trees are gone. Others will be planted nearby. Meanwhile, if you’re looking for someone to tar and feather, catch me if you can. But don’t call me, I’ll call you.