by
Norman Freeman

Sawing down that lovely ash tree without the owner’s consent

It was the most difficult yet exhilarating challenge. It took some audacity and not a little ingenuity. What are we talking about? A marvellous ash tree was cut down right under the hostile red nose of the bad-tempered man on whose land it grew. From this tree came the makings no less than eight of the finest hurleys. It happened in County Tipperary in the year 2001, when that county won the All Ireland.

The dauntless ones who carried out this exploit risked kicks up the rear end if not prosecution from the sour-faced landowner. The three young people were led by a spirited young camogie player from Borrisoleigh, Aideen Kelly, then still in her teenage years. She was the inspiration and the brains behind this exploit. She had two male companions of her own age.

These three were actually going about the fields of mid-Tipperary, gathering wild damsons for a small jam-making venture the girl had set up in shed at the end of the garden; this later developed into the highly successful niche food business, Kelly’s Food Enterprise . As they entered a neglected field near a cross-roads, the girl spotted this ash tree. It was growing out of a moss-covered bank behind the jumbled yard of a pub.

“Look at the curve on that. It would make some lovely hurleys” she said appraisingly. They stood round tree, admiring its potential. The next thing the pub-owner, a man renowned for his bad temper, was upon them. He did not know them but he knew what they were thinking.
“Clear away to hell out of that. If I ketch anyone trying to cut down that tree I’ll give them a up the backside they won’t forget.”

If he had not assailed them in such a loutish manner nothing more might have come of it. But Aideen was so incensed at the verbal assault that she there and then decided that the tree was going to be cut down for hurleys.

It had to be a carefully planned operation. The tree was less than ten metres from the back door of the pub. It was clearly visible from all the windows, downstairs and upstairs as well as the car-park to one side. Discreet enquiries revealed that the pub-owner lived there with an aged aunt. Should the deed be done in the dead of a dark and windy night, with the wind moaning in the branches of that big forty-year old ash? There was a risk that the owner, who slept in a back bedroom, might hear some noise. He was known to be an expert clay-pigeon shot and had an impressive array of shotguns.

They considered a two handled saw. Certainly it would be quiet but cutting down that stout ash, some thirty-five centimetres across, would take an awful lot of time; and the process would still make some noise.
“This will have to be a chain-saw job, lads,” Aideen declared.
“A chain saw? Jaysus, that’ll be noisy,” said Tadgh, a big, raw-boned youth who rightly surmised that he would be given the task of wielding this implement.
“It will. But I’ve got a solution to the problem.”

The previous Sunday, Tipperary and Wexford had played a tremendous semi-final draw. Now the replay was fixed for 5 pm on Saturday 18th August 2001. The pub had a large screen and many regular customers. The place was likely to be packed because not all the hurling fans from round about would be able to travel to Croke Park. There would be much shouting and yelling in the pub during the late afternoon.

Aideen hired a chain saw in Nenagh, borrowed a small open truck from her brother together with a wheelbarrow. The third member of the team, a quick witted fellow called Liam, contributed his good-quality transistor radio and its earplugs.

Fortunately for them, that Saturday afternoon and evening turned out to be a day of heavy rain that fell continuously from grey skies. Our trio parked the truck off a narrow side road some distance from the cross-roads and then, hugging the hedges, made their way carefully towards the back of the pub and the lovely ash tree. They saw pub-goers parking their cars and racing into the pub before they got soaked.

Liam measured and marked the places on the trunk where the tree was to be cut. Aideen tuned in Michéal Ó Muirtheartaigh on RTE One and donned the ear-plugs. She held up the index finger of her right hand as a signal to Tadgh to get ready to start the saw. Then, when the Tipperary team ran out onto the rain lashed field, to a great roar from those in the pub, she made a decisive downward movement of her arm. There was a loud initial growl from the engine of the chain saw but it then ticked over with only a low sound.

The timing and frequency of the cutting down of that ash corresponded to the ebb and flow of the game in Croke. For the first ten minutes they were afraid to make any move, crouching behind the hedge. Then Aideen, listening intently to the commentary, raised her finger. John Carroll, the burly Tipp full forward was charging towards goal like a rhinoceros. As he kicked the sliotar into the Wexford goal Aideen brought down her hand emphatically and Tadgh applied the edge of the chain saw to the trunk of the tree with a great rasping sound. Over a ten-second period, when the cheering in the pub resounded, the saw went in at least five centimetres. Then Aideen raised her hand to the ‘Stop’ position.

Only a minute later Eoin Kelly from Mullinahone stood over the ball for a free. Aideen held up her finger in readiness and then brought it down as the ball went over the bar in Croke Park and the crowd in the pub beside them roared. Another two centimetres. By the end of the first half they were almost half-way through the tree, taking advantage of the cheering when Kelly put over three more frees and had one point from play while Mark O’Leary scored two from play. The game was fairly even, with Tipp 1-6 to 8 points at half time.

They had to lie low in the wet grass during the interval. It was uncomfortable, with rain still sweeping across the sodden landscape. When the game recommenced, the tree-felling operation was blessed by the fact that Tipp began to get on top.

Eoin Kelly sent over another free and the chain saw went in another centrimetre. Then the tree-fellers had another stroke of luck. Eugene O’Neill from Cappawhite, who had come on for Lar Corbett, scored a great goal. While the spectators in the pub roared their heads off Tadgh leant hard on the chain saw and went in four or five more centimetres. By half way through the second half the beautiful tree was shaking, ready to come down. But they needed a final big cheer from the pub to drown out the heavy whining of the saw. It came in the 71st minute when Eugene O’Neill got another goal . Sawdust sprayed about as the saw cut through and the mighty ash toppled over and fell back into the field.

Now they had to risk all in cutting through the upper part if the trunk.
“Go at it Tadgh, for fuck’s sake,” urged Aideen.
They were helped greatly by the fact that the pub-spectators were now cheering beerily nearly all the time. When the full-time whistle went Tadgh cut right through as a prolonged roar echoed through the pub, with the final score standing at 3-12 for Tipp against 10 points for Wexford.

They quickly loaded the heavy length of curved ash onto the wheelbarrow and went as fast as they could across the field. Two hours later they arrived at a hurley-maker’s workshop in South Kilkenny. He told them that he could get eight fine hurleys from the big ash trunk. Aideen did a deal with him. He would get four hurleys for his own profit while making two for her and one each for her companions.

The publican was furious when he found that his lovely ash tree had been felled. But he was unable to trace the culprits.

The reality is that there are so many excellent hurley makers about today that the excitement of sawing down a forbidden tree is almost a thing of the past. Today’s young m