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Falling out of a Tree
The phrase "Falling out of a Tree" has a lot of wiggle room. One could be 3 feet off the ground or 30 feet off the ground. Here, I recount two instances in which I fell out of a tree, where it was a non-trivial event, though I surely have fallen out of trees other times as well, since I climbed trees often.
The first event that I will describe likely occurred in the summer of 1967, though it could have been in late spring or early fall or in 1966 or 1968, so don't hold the date as a fact, but as a guide. The reason I know these details is that the tree was one of the ponderosa pines just south of our house in Haven Township and north of Grandpa's. In August 1968, we moved to Fargo, ND, for four years. The particular tree was about 35-45 feet tall. I had climbed it a few times, and I could see all of our yard and more. So, I decided to make a small tree fort there, about 30 feet up.
The ponderosas are behind where the tractor is, though it may be hard to see them here.
I climbed up and found the location where I wanted to nail two boards across some branches. I went and got two boards (i.e., likely took them from my Grandpa's stack of scrap wood pieces on the east side of the new garage) that would work, some nails, and a hammer. To make it easier to pound in the first nail while up high, I got a nail started in each board so that it penetrated through to the other side, leaving another inch or more to pound while up above. To make it easier to climb and work, I only brought up one board, some nails, and a hammer. When I got to the location, I started pounding in the nail through a branch up high. It was a little awkward to do three things at once: swing the hammer with my right arm and use my left arm to hold the board being pounded, as well as holding myself in position 30 feet up in this tree. Perhaps I started wondering if it really needed to be this high.
The next thing I knew, I was falling down, as well as the hammer. The nice thing about ponderosa pines is that they have many branches comes out at the same height about every two feet or so. Things happened fast, and I remember hitting many branches on the way down. When I hit the ground, I remember wondering if I was OK or not. I opened my eyes, looked at myself, and didn't notice anything wrong. I then slowly moved my limbs and only noticed being a little sore, but nothing was broken. I then noticed that I landed within inches of the other board with the nailhead sticking out. I am guessing that the hammer fell before I did, since it didn't land on me. I took out the nails from the boards, returned them and the hammer, and gave up on my grand plan. I think I had angels helping on the way down. I walked away with nothing but some soreness, while it could have been much worse.
While I had some back pain and soreness, I did not need any medical attention. Therefore, I guess that I never told anyone else about this event, but most certainly not my mother.
Now, moving NW about 200 miles and about 2-3 years later, I had my second interesting experience with a tree. We rented a home at 601 S. University Dr. on a corner lot on Sixth Street and US 81. We had an alley at the back of our lot with a large garage that was not in good shape. On the south side of the garage was a place where we usually parked our car(s). On the north side, near the sidewalk on Sixth Street, was a relatively large boxelder tree. I built a tree fort about 8 feet up with some boards to stand or sit on. It was easy to build, and there were no issues doing so.
The tree is just beyond the far right of this photo. (Taken by Ken in the last year or so. Thanks!)
In the summer of 1970 (±1), I built the tree fort. Next, I hung a pulley system from one of the branches. I don't remember clearly at this point all the reasons I did so, but one was to bring things up in a pail. Perhaps I also had the idea that it might be easier for Bruce to come up to the fort, though I can't be certain of that. I suggest that now because I can't think of any other logical reason for what I did next. Not that I always did logical things. (Just reread the first tree experience above.) At any rate, I tied a rope to the handle of a bucket, ran the rope through the pulley, and then tested pulling down on the rope. Perfect.
So I put my feet in the bucket and started pulling down on the rope. What could go wrong, right? When I was up close to the fort, the pail was at least 5 or 6 feet high. All of a sudden, the stability of the pail with my feet in it gave way. My feet started falling out of the pail, and I fell down to the ground. And then came the metal bucket. Right on my upper lip. There was a lot of blood, and I entered the house calling "Mom". She looked at my upper lip with lots of blood coming out of the sliced lip, and she took me to the ER. I had to explain again (after first telling Mom) the stupid thing that I was doing.
By the time I was done at the ER, I had about 6-8 stitches to bind the lip back together. The cut sliced all the way through to the inside of the lip. (Ironically, about a year ago, I had to again get 6 stitches for a cut that went all the way through the upper lip, but on my left side rather than in the center. That's another story.) Eating was a little bit more difficult, but I was glad that it was summer since I was a trumpet player in school, and I had a break for a while from that pursuit.
Perhaps other tree accidents affected my body, but I don't recall any others now. However, I can cite at least five tree "situations" that took place up at the cabin, but that is also for another story. Stay tuned.
Published 2026-02-27.
If you find any errors in the text, please let me know. Thanks. Contact me with errors or comments using hibbardac@gmail.com. [Back to the top] [About the author, Al]