Let me tell you about my old friend, McLeod. He's an odd looking long handled buddy that we always see when we are building and maintaining trail. He's a stand up guy, and you can always rely on him to stand up for you, when everyone else is lying down or propped up and leaning. You can set him right down, and he'll tell you right away if you've got enough outslope on the bench. He's a quick and handy measure, for his length right about four feet.
McLeod has many talents I've discovered over the years I've dragged him all over the trails and no-trails hillsides we live amongst. One of his least appreciated talents is the folksy music he makes when he twangs against a rock. I've even heard a harmonius chord sung out when the tines grabble across some loose gravel.
But ringing out the music is nothing compared to the useful jobs McLeod works at. Most of the time he's employed pulling on his long handle. Sometimes you can give him a push too. And then, just as often you might see him chopping down with a strike.
The hoe blade is meant to be kept sharp but from use as often scraping it can be McLeod's bluntest part. But you can tilt him down on his weighty corner to bite down like a pick. You'll never swing Mc Leod overhead. But you'll always use short chopping motion to chop and pick instead.
The other end's thick rake tines are often used to spread, the uneven dirt and chunks, that become an old trail's tread. They can easily bust up all sizes of dirt clod, and even chip up sticks and bark: and for little critters dread. And the tines extend on long reach, the ability to grab, raunchy branches, vines, and hay, and let you carry them to a place where they might stay.
The rake can be used in team work, with a partner ready to chop or lop, the straggly branches of some brush that you have pulled down in this way. You can even chop at poison oak vines, and that's another way to say: Never carry a McLeod atop your shoulder, because you might get itchy all over that way. When walking carry it by your side and away, with the rake-hoe head forward, and the handle back the otherway. Carry it on the down-slope side and be ready, in case of a trip or a fall, you can let it fall away.
Before you use them, check your tools for safety. Check the handle for any flaws or splints. Ensure the head is secure and tight. And see how sharp the hoe edge is, for cutting roots it's right.
The hoe grubbing edge of the McLeod glints bright when it is freshly sharpened, keen and slight. It can strike a mighty blow where a saw or an axe are hard to use in ground attacks. And a favored path is often cleared by chopping up the sod with the well placed hack, and oft times peeled, when you pull back. But for smoothing out the path by pendulum swings of the head, many praises for this tool, the Mcleod, are often said.
Let's not forget to mention, that other odd peculiar motion, you'll see crews finishing up work with on their grade. And that's the up and down tamping action they'll temper the dirt with what they made. They will compact all the soil by pushing the tool down rapidly, and sometimes they even stand and hop around on it, clasping on the handle handily, like fools riding an unsprung pogo stick.
Yes, the McLeod is a tool of many uses, and I haven't listed them all here. Let's just say if we didn't have one, the deprivation would be severe.
Sometimes the McLeod is called a fire rake, because it is also used in fighting wildfires. McLeod (with a capital L) is the surname of Malcolm McLeod who invented this device in 1905. McLeod was Ranger in the Sierra National Forest of California. The tool bearing his namesake is designed to perform two main tasks: raking, and hoeing or grubbing. It's use in combat against spreading wildfires is often in scraping and raking dry duff away to the incombustible mineral soil to prevent fire from spreading.
Source:
http://www.nps.gov/fire/utility/related_items/1911b.pdf
