1. Batoning is stupid knife abuse
2. Axes are too dangerous
3. Youtube is a bad influence
4. Bushcraft is just a marketing ploy
5. Just light some twigs
6. Just light your snacks
7. Mors Kochanski > Ray Mears
8. My wood is gnarlier than your wood
9. Thick blades are for thick people
10. Humans have been batoning since the dawn of time, but not since your grandpa was born
11. You don't need to split firewood
12. Every day is like survival
13. Just have a knife, parang, hatchet, saw, lighter, vaseline with you at all times
14. There is nothing a gallon of gasoline can't solve
15. Smatchet is always the answer
16. We all secretly want to be operators
17. Get a froe
I'll confess that I like to reminisce and tell
true stories, forgive me if that isn't welcome here.
Actually, #17 with something like a "baton" (which is French for "stick" IIRC) is probably the best answer if you keep the froe fairly sharp so it will "bite" easily - otherwise you can use a small axe/hatchet to make a groove in the wood so you can get the froe started. I had a best friend (RIP, Kermit) who heated almost exclusively with wood and I've helped start a fire in his furnace many times - there was always a stump, a reasonably sharp froe and a mallet near the furnace. Yes, furnace, not stove. The county was "de-commissioning" a small neighborhood schoolhouse that had central coal/plumbed radiators tkype heat in order to build a new bigger one in its place, and he bought its furnace and a lot of radiators/plumbing from them for scrap prices and plumbed his whole house for radiators. He kept a bit of coal for bitter weather or to bank the fire while he was at work, but the rest came from dead trees on coal company property with their blessing, as it kept them from dealing with dead trees falling and blocking important haulage roada. It helped that we always filled our boss's woodpile first, so anytime we finished a survey before quitting time we got to cut wood for the survey party members as well. Win/win. Almost all of it was done with a leetle Homelight Super 2, still my favorite saw for around the house if they're even still made. I lived in a "mobile home" in a very wide place near the road as finding a home to buy was impossible. There were a few lots just wide enough for trailers were sale, but they were $20k each in 1970's money, on a steep hill, and it took two of them and extensive dozer work to make one tiny home seat. That said, I bought a nice trailer and we were very happy with it. They're super easy to work on if you have frozen pipes, septic tank/sewage problems etc. Yep, we were hillbillies living in a trailer - except not in a trailer park (which is a nightmare), and we didn't live in tornado country.
Later we told the boss that we were encountering much bigger trees (which was true, we'd already harvested the easy ones), and needed a bigger saw. Since that endangered his free fuel supply (I don't know why, as the coal company offered its employees high BTU coal in convenient sizes at cost - if they remembered to bill you at all) he jumped on board with the big saw - maybe a Homelight 360, or maybe I confusing brands and models? Anyway it was a
much bigger saw and the first time I used it on a tree that was leaning in a way that I had to cut it from the "up the hill" side, a tooth hung up and it put me on my butt. It was a great saw once you knew what to expect, and knew to let it go when it did that which was hard as that big saw took a death grip to keep it in line. A crew member later suggested that I fill my pockets full of rocks, as although I was ~6' tall I weighed 138#. I had the muscle as I'd had nothing but brutally hard mining jobs before getting to join the surveyors, I just didn't have the ass-sets for that saw in awkward positions.
Since I've already gone this far, I may as well tell you the very positive kicker. When I joined the crew they allowed firearms in the vehicle, but only long guns. At that time Everett was party chief, not Kermit, and Everett hated handguns and prohibited them. I eventually convinced him to let me bring mine, in a holster in the Jeep, and not use it with permission. We flushed some grouse so I got out and asked for my .22, fired twice at a grouse, put it back into the holster and handed it to Everett. Another rodman didn't believe I'd hit it, and went over the hill to get it himself (and make sure I didn't just wound it and would stomp it to death before bringing it back). His first words when he got to the Jeep were "Damn, he shot it's (friggin') head off with the first shot. Thereafter, gradually and after some pretty nasty encounters with poisonous snakes where we were working, we all were armed and obvious about it. Strangely, the copper thieves who had been pulling up our benchmark stakes (which were copper plated with brass heads for stamping BM numbers) started leaving our stakes alone. We never overtly threatened any of them except to, when seeing them eyeballing a stake we were driving, advising "I wouldn't pull that up if I were you".
If you got this far, thanks for tolerating an old man's memories. None of that was a lie, and not meant to be self-aggrandizing. As Elmer Keith titled his book, "Hell, I was there!"