Valentine turned the saw off, held it in place and began climbing down the tree.
"I was holding it with this hand and scooted down with this hand," said Valentine. "Soon as I got down... Just seeing the blood just squirting out, that was crazy."
As for his future, Valentine says, "I am a tree climber; that's what I do."
Previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously.
I had a relative who spent most of his life doing tree service. He's dead, although not directly because of it.
He was in a tree. I don't remember a ton of the details because of angry youth and distance and maybe temporarily-invented 4Loko. But they were doing something that seemed, perhaps, unwise, in retold retrospect. Like him crawling up a tree, tying rope around a part of it, sawing on part of it, and a coordination method to get the branch out of the way depending on iffy straps keeping him in the tree and a truck attached to the rope.
Pretty sure you know where this is going, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He was only hit in the chest with rope recoil hard enough to break the straps, some ribs, his lung, toss him out of the tree and, for bonus points, there was some random stick or something that went through his arm. The spinny saw part wasn't a part of the endgame. He recovered in a couple of months with some seriously impressive scars and winces when he moved that way, and went back to work.
And that, my friends, is why you tell your spawn to at least be the supervisor. Or better yet, an highly mobile VP Of Something, if you don't mind farming human krill and killing things better than you are.