Every industry breeds its own folklore. In tree work, cutting, hinging and rigging theories might make for some of the loudest campfire stories of all. On a TreeBuzz thread dealing with these topics, a post about “rip cuts” lit up the board – veteran climbers, would-be physicists and wisecracking pirates all weighing in. The premise was that a controlled tear could turn a brutal stop into a soft hand-off.

Cutting a tree limb so it drops gently instead of breaking free in a violent swing sounds simple until you try it. Every arborist knows that once tension and gravity take over, wood has a mind of its own. The question was how to make a branch “sag but not break” – to bend predictably toward vertical without tearing loose.

The original poster, a climber from Georgia, wanted to tame the chaos of limb release. Standard practice – an undercut followed by a top cut – too often results in a sudden drop and swing. The goal was something slower, like persuading the branch to fold under its own weight instead of snapping.

Several contributors pointed back to veteran cutter Jerry Beranek’s method he called “the bender.” It’s not one dramatic slice, but a series of shallow saw kerfs along the compression side of the limb. Each closing kerf allows the fibers to stretch a little more, lowering the branch a little farther. It may take 10 cuts across a span of only a foot or two, but the motion becomes controlled and progressive. The idea is to bend the wood without severing it, guiding its surrender rather than forcing it – and all while trying not to get your saw stuck in the kerf!

That method overlaps with what some Buzzers called the “peel cut,” used when a branch is meant to tear gradually instead of breaking clean. One poster described cutting through the branch collar and into the fibers of the parent stem, which would eventually peel and separate from the downward force of the branch being removed.

Both methods rely on the wood’s internal fibers acting like a hinge, though their goals differ – the peel cut ends in separation, the bender in controlled motion.

Success with either method depends on the species. Spruce will fold easily, sometimes too easily; deodar cedar, by contrast, refuses to flex and will snap no matter what. Several arborists in the thread summed it up bluntly; know your trees, or your cuts won’t matter.

Mike H suggested some simple rigging for that pesky lateral: “Girth hitch two webbing slings with a biner joining the slings under the cut. Cut straight through and let it hang. Cut pieces off while hanging until it is light enough to handle. Remove slings, toss remaining piece and cut off the stub.”
The rigging conversation that started simply quickly turned more complex.

Daniel – who started a thread on hinges – argued that a limb guided by a thin hinge doesn’t drop into the rigging; it rolls into it. The energy stretches across the rope instead of slamming the system.

Species knowledge became the quiet star of the hinge discussion. Flexible woods with “chewy” fibers, such as pine or elm, can support a hinge that bends far before failing. Brittle woods like Norway maple or oak behave differently, snapping clean with little warning. Knowing whether a branch will hold or shatter dictates not only how you cut, but where you stand while doing it. Several participants shared stories of misjudged wood that either refused to break or broke too soon, each story ending in new respect for the quirks of fiber direction and moisture.

Tom Dunlap – a longtime TreeBuzz administrator and retired arborist from Minneapolis – teased, Evo countered with timing theories and the replies spiraled into a graduate seminar disguised as trash talk. Everyone agreed on one thing – if you can stretch the stop over time, you tend to stay healthier.

The thread turned into a kind of democratic physics lesson. Evo emphasized teamwork – how a sharp tailer could bleed energy through friction, timing and wraps. Daniel pushed back that skill isn’t a safety plan; setup is. Rope type, line length and elasticity matter more than good intentions. “Dynamic ropes are shock absorbers built from fibers, not fingers,” he wrote. He reminded everyone that the GRCS winch is a lifting device, not a catcher’s mitt.

Arguments spun into formulas and anecdotes, but the heartbeat stayed the same: soften the catch, share the load, respect the hinge. One climber put it simply – “Turn a drop into a glide.” That sentiment became the through-line for the next big TreeBuzz brawl.

Another thread, “Bend Radius for Rigging,” picked up where the first left off: geometry as survival skill. TheTreeSpyder jumped in with his trademark stream-of-consciousness math, likening rope angles to gymnasts holding an iron cross. Strength, he wrote, means nothing without geometry – without that “batwing lat” of support across the load. Then he dove straight into cosine theory, explaining how side angles bleed strength away from your intended direction. “Most material fails,” he wrote, “from crossing dimension force, not aligned dimension.” In other words, sideways strain is no bueno.
Bart followed with the math every groundie feels but rarely calculates. A 100-pound log under a 5-G snub doesn’t hit at 100 pounds – it hits like 1,500 pounds once you account for pulley angles and sling tension. Then he joked that there should be a “groundie competition” for the smoothest lower – the one who keeps peak forces lowest without touching dirt. Everyone liked that idea more than they admitted.

Daniel re-entered the thread with real-world tests: 1,100-pound drops on half-inch True Blue with a locked line. His numbers blew up old formulas because they didn’t account for rope stretch. Even locked off, the dynamic elasticity cut predicted peak forces in half. “It’s huge,” he said later. “The more rope in the system, the bigger the difference.”

That became the thesis: “length equals forgiveness.” Add rope. Add stretch. Add time. More line between block and bollard isn’t just convenience – it’s a shock absorber. Even horizontal runs matter; a sagging line straightens under load, bleeding off a moment’s violence like a bowstring uncoiling. The math nerds called it a catenary curve, the rest called it experience.

Conclusion
In the end, nobody fully won the argument, but the chorus was clear. In trees, physics is theory, proven or disproven by bruise count. Whether through hinge fibers, rope stretch or clever geometry, the goal never changes. Make gravity take its time.

Every rig, every rope, every catch is a short negotiation with Sir Isaac Newton. The smoother the conversation, the safer the crew.

“Soft Science” illustrations by Bryan Kotwica.