The Paavola Tree Classroom Dave Paavola (right) discusses tree cutting safety and techniques with a group of field personnel, arborists and quality inspectors. LA-RFO Photo by Spec. Larry Gleeson. Back to Features

Tree Man!
Park Service expert brings wit, wisdom and safety to tree mission
By Dave Harris and Spec. Larry Gleeson, public affairs specialists, Louisiana Recovery Field Office

The Army Corps of Engineers not only brings to a disaster recovery its experts and veterans from around the world, but also a network of agencies from the Department of Agriculture to the Weather Service who contribute their talents to the recovery.

When the Katrina-driven surge of saltwater plundered thousands of Orleans Parish trees, the Corps was assigned the FEMA mission of removing salt-water-killed and Katrina-damaged trees from the public right of way and, in some parishes, private property.

Dead trees are hazards that threaten homes, lives, and other property whenever a strong wind blows or the tree finally falls victim to normal decay processes. The trees are like the landmines left behind after a battle that still have the power and likelihood of inflicting deadly wounds on an unsuspecting family, neighborhood or entire city.

They also represent a tremendous hazard to thousands of workers unfamiliar with working on and around dead and struggling trees.

Only a tree sage matching the wisdom of Daniel Boone could discern which trees clung to life - or pronounce dead those for whom all hope was lost.  And only an experienced logger with a lifetime of recognizing and dodging the dangers could turn inexperienced crews into award-winning sawyers.

The Army Corps of Engineers successfully recruited mission arborists from across America from the Rockies to the Everglades to find seasoned woodsmen and, in early 2007, added a modern-day Johnnie Appleseed to this crucial interagency crew.

Dave Paavola
LA-RFO Photo by Lt. Col. Jack Hourguettes

David Paavola is a rustic, weathered child of northern Michigan nature and tree expert with a physician’s eye for a tree's vital signs and a wary parent’s radar for looming hazards. He arrived from Isle Royale National Park located in northern Lake Superior.

"I can see one side of Lake Superior out my front door, and the other side from my back door," Dave said.  You don't get any farther north than that.

A National Park Service maintenance worker, Dave came alongside arborists and sawing crews – sawyers – to spare the living and identify and assure risk-managed removal of the dead.

His distinctive gray uniform was in stark contrast to the usual sea of white Corps shirts.

Dave always arrived well before the crews to research and prepare for the morning QA - quality assurance - safety meeting.  “I can think about work and line things up – I organize better when I have my space.”

A giant of a man in his knowledge of the ways of nature and earthy resourcefulness, Dave’s wiry frame and quick, discerning mind fear no one when it comes to his trees. He takes on behemoth bureaucracies and beefy sawyers to make sure gnarled, majestic trees, living or dead, get the respect and skilled care they deserve.

“I worked in logging for over 25 years starting when I was 16. I know how to cut trees because I’ve cut trees,” Dave said.

“If a crew doesn’t have the proper equipment or know how to wedge a tree, they’re not going anywhere. Every day I spend time researching safety-related topics to keep these crews out of harm’s way. I try to find job-specific topics. I give them verbal instructions. I tell them about the remarkably low Corps accident rate. I give them handouts.

“I let them know we mean business.”  And he did.  During his tenure, tree cutting crews did not record a single lost time accident.

He loves working in the field, and he can spot impending danger in a tree that others may miss.

“I look for identifying markings or characteristics within trees that when added up are hazards,” Dave explained. “Then, I make recommendations to the arborist during our consultations. To the untrained eye, some trees would appear healthy. They display newly formed branches. Upon closer inspection, however, the branches had sprouted from the bark. The trunk, meanwhile, has no life. Even the slightest wind can top these trees.”

One has to probe deep to discover any fear in the man. Reared on the thrill of 40-foot heights, wind, fumes and slippery slopes as a chimney sweep and volunteer firefighter, few obstacles can hold him back.

No, he’s not perfect, Dave admits. One wintry day he discovered one of his shortcomings when “Returning to camp, I was tracking footprints in the snow thinking they were my brother’s. I tracked them right back to where I had been standing – they were my own footprints. It was humbling. I thought I knew this area.” He shook his head slowly. “If you can’t laugh at yourself, you do not have a sense of humor.”

And though he enjoys watching over the sawyers in Orleans Parish, he sees ways he could make improvements here and there on ways the work gets done.

“My best days,” he says, “are when the workload is a little above average, when things are happening and a smile breeds a smile – when I can say I’ve earned my money today.”

After half a year in Louisiana, Dave, along with wife Catherine, have now returned home to Michigan to icy days with spring snow.

“My place slopes up from a lake, somewhat reminding you of a golf course without the greens and spotted with 300 apple trees, 125 of which are pruned; we don’t spray them. We have a number of mixed species yielding a unique flavor. We collect the apples in a large tarp and put them in a cider press I built out of a cement mixer motor and pulleys out of wood. We invite neighbors for donuts and cider. We also make maple syrup, and having the time to do that is a privilege.”

One of the themes running through his worldview is to “control overhead” in whatever Dave is doing.

At home with the cider and syrup, “I control overhead so more people can enjoy it,” he says. “None is sold; it is consumed or given away on the premises. An hour of picking and an hour pressing yields 10 gallons of cider. We freeze 40 gallons so we can enjoy it year-’round.”

Recalling his work with trees and sawyers and his simple but rich heritage at home, he pauses once more to reflect.

“It’s wonderful,” Dave concludes with a hint of a Scandinavian accent.

“I’m blessed. Good fortune rides on me and falls into my lap.”

And we agree with Dave's basic life philosophy, based on our experience with him.  "The world could use a few more more Finns and Swedes."