Grape vines down by the river are encountering a foe: it's me. They grow unbelievably stout down there, soaring to the tops of the tall deciduous trees. Eventually, they act like the one percent, gobbling all the sunlight and leaving none for the trees or forest floor plants.
Here is a biggie I disconnected with the chain saw.
Another one sneakily looked like a tree at the base, but got up into this Osage Orange (hedge apple to us here in Missouri) and was in the process of doing its boa constrictor routine in the canopy. Feeling downright gleeful, I sliced it off at ground level. The lower tree limb was dead, so I cut it for firewood. There are some beautiful trees that get brought down by the grape vines, so every big marauding one I cut saves several trees, like not subscribing to the newspaper.
This is one of the smaller ones I cut recently. It doesn't look like much, but had already gotten up into several trees, with the sky as the limit.
Between the grape vines and the climbing poison ivy, those invaders are doing their best to take over the woods.
Even when the vines are cut, they get busy sending out slender new shoots. Before long, they will find young trees on their way up. Latching onto one of the branches is how they wind up looking like they have made it on their own. When their victims die and fall over, it matters not to the vines. They start scouting around for another leg up, even though they have no legs. They are determined but I am on a vendetta.
My motto is Hell hath no fury like an avenging woman with a chain saw.
