Speaking of fallen trees ...
... and the guys with uniforms.
In '97 or '98 I was camping at the rather remote Shoshone Campground on the SE corner of Great Basin National Park. The last night there was quite the windstorm. I was awake half the night wondering if one of the trees would fall over on my camp, and maybe destroy the shell on the truck, or the truck itself.
On the way out the next morning, I came around a bend, and there was a tree down across the road. On the far side of the tree was one of those huge SUV's, with a quite attractive young woman all decked out in designer hiking clothes lounging against the front bumper.
Her friend, a rather large young fellow, had chopped down a smallish evergreen tree, stripped all the branches from it, and was using it as a lever to move the downed tree. He would put the end of the lever under the tree, give a huge and loud lunge, and the tree would move a few inches, or not. Then another heroic effort, and another few inches, maybe.
I walked over to the top end of the tree, which was laying kind of diagonally across the road, and lifted on it. Heavy, but not all that heavy. I lifted it enough that I could drag it, pivoting it on the stump end, completely off the road.
When I finished, the rather large young fellow was glowering at me. His quite attractive young companion had something of a smile on her face.
On down the road, I mentioned the incident to a Forest Service ranger that I ran into. He said he wished he would have been there to fine the guy for cutting down a live tree.
John