Worked for tree service back in '87 out of Sherwood, OR. Kinf of place where you learn by doing, no training, mostly alcoholics and cranksters (but some solid guys when sober).
The skidders where mostly made of spare parts and snot, but the winches ("wenches") were bomber. Pulled a 12 in alder right over the top of the Mountain Logger leaving it perfectly balanced in the air, the other guys stood around laughing and then the boss drove up...who didn't think it was so funny.
Dropped a maple on a steep hill, truck parked below; the crew boss had asked if I wanted to move the truck first, I said no. Damn thing fell about 120 degrees from where I wanted it, right over and past the truck...took off the mirror with a limb and dented the roof. I didn't realize it was hollow. After I had quit, I heard that a new guy dropped a big fir square on the mechanic's cherried-out old pick-up. The mechanic chased him with a wrench trying to kill him---and he probably would have if he could have caught him, but lucky for the new guy, the m. was slow.
Taking only one wedge up a good sized Grand fir that I was taking down. I had to take two chunks out of it before I could fell it. The first piece (upper 40 ft) went fine, no wedge needed. The second piece was clean, 30 ft and about a foot thick at the cut; I buried the wedge but it didn't go, and there I am 50 ft. off the ground with just a flip line. Well, I had time to think, and decided to climb down, which I did while looking up the whole time and sweating bullets. Dropped the whole thing from the ground, narrowly missing a garage. Next time I loaded up my pockets with wedges.