When I'm up on forestry lands collecting firewood I keep my eyes open for nice didge log candidates. The harvesters that cut trees for lumber also often cut other trees just to get them out of the way, and to allow the reforestation to be a managed plot for productive output at scheduled times. Those machines grab onto a tree, a blade cuts through the trunk, the tree is lifted, flipped horizontal, and is run through it's jaws getting all of it's branches stripped off and cut into measured pieces stacked neatly in a pile quick as a wink. The jaws that handle it leave these cool compression marks on the surface, and into the surface. If I made the bell opening smaller I could have sanded down past the markings, but that wasn't the point. Sometimes we like things to be a little raw, or exposed. Scars are not ugly, they tell stories which lead to knowing. This didge celebrates how what can be seen as industrial damage can also be transformed into something of natural beauty. Before I shaved it down, these marks penetrated the surface the entire length of the log. Beneath industry's marks is still nature's perfection.