Logger Jokes

Logger Jokes

Why didn't the dendrochronologist get married?
All he ever dated was trees!

What's the difference between an environmentalist and a developer?
The environmentalist already has his house in the mountains.

  Once upon a time, there were two lumberjacks, named Smith and 
Do-Dah. These two lumberjacks became best friends, doing everything 
together.  They ate together (while working, of course), worked 
together, played together and even got married on the same day.
  Every day, after saying goodbye to their wives, they would head 
for the woods to cut down trees.
  After a while, they developed a routine way of doing things.  
Smith would climb up into the tree, and cut the top part off, called 
"topping the tree".  Then when he had climbed down, Do-Dah would cut 
down the tree itself.
  They did this routine for over thirty years.  As the years went by, 
Do-Dah started to lose his hearing.
  One day, Smith topped off the tree and yelled "Timber!" to let his
friend know the top part was coming down.  Do-Dah didn't hear him and 
the falling tree top landed on him.
  Seeing that his friend was caught under the tree top, Smith rushed 
down the tree crying "Do-Dah! Do-Dah! My friend! Are you all right?" 
  But it was too late.  His friend was dead.
  After sitting and crying for a while, Smith decided he needed to go 
and tell Do-Dah's wife that her husband was dead.  As he walked thru 
the woods, towards her house, he kept thinking, over and over, "What 
am I gonna tell this poor woman?  How do I tell her that her husband 
is dead???"
  Before he knew it, he was standing outside her door, and still 
didn't know how to tell her.
  Just then, the door opened.  It was Mrs. Do-Dah, leaving to go
  She was surprised to see Smith standing there, and asked, "Why, 
hello Mr. Smith.  What can I do for you today??"
  Smith was speechless and just stood there and looked at her.  
Finally, from somewhere deep inside him, Smith began to sing.
  "Guess who died in the woods today...Do-Dah, Do-Dah."

  Back around the turn of the century, said Zeddie Gillenwater of 
Sumerco, some West Virginia farmers often sold virgin timber to mills 
but had a difficult time getting their logs delivered.
  One inexpensive way was to pile logs in a creek and wait for a big
rain.  When the water came up, the logs formed a "raft" and the farmer
floated them to the mill.  Because a lot of farmers were doing this, 
the logs piled up and mixed together, so the individuals "branded" 
their wood.
  One such farmer, a fellow called Joggie-Eye, was late getting to his
logs one morning after a big rain.  When he arrived at the creek, his
timber was gone.
  Joggie-Eye took off along the creek.  Every unmarked log he found, 
he put his mark on it.
  "Hey, Joggie-Eye," another farmer yelled at him, "those aren't your
logs.  Stop branding them."
  "My logs vanished last night and these must be them," the brander
  "They can't be your logs, Joggie-Eye.  These logs are way upstream 
from your place."
  "Well," said the farmer, continuing to brand, "my logs left in the 
night and I'm not sure which way they went."

  A little withered old man walks into a timber company office, 
and applies for a job as a lumberjack. The foreman politely tries
to talk him out of the idea. After all, he is old, small, and
apparently much too weak to fell trees. The old man picks up an 
axe and walks over to a huge redwood. As he goes to work, a high
pitched whine comes from the axe, chips of wood fly everwhere, 
and the odor of burning wood fills the air. In record time, the 
old man is finished chopping down the tree.
  "That's just astounding," the forman says, "wherever did you 
learn to chop down trees like that?"
  "Well now," the old man smiles, "have you ever heard of the 
Sahara Forest?"
  "You mean the Sahara Desert."
  "Sure, that's what it's called NOW..." 

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