Cutting Edge History

Yesterday, I stood in my backyard, holding a chainsaw that my wife—who, bless her practical heart, had reluctantly signed off on—allowed me to buy for the grand task of rebuilding a fence. The storm had knocked it down, and though I have the carpentry skills of a slightly intoxicated raccoon, I was determined to fix it. With the smell of gasoline in the air and the satisfying growl of the motor vibrating in my hands, a thought struck me: where did this beautiful, terrifying machine come from?

That was when the conversation took an unexpected turn. Someone, probably me, mentioned that chainsaws were originally invented for childbirth. Now, my wife, a labor and delivery nurse, responded with the exact mix of horror and skepticism you’d expect from someone who actually knows how babies are supposed to enter the world. “That can’t be right,” she said, watching me rev the saw a little too enthusiastically. And yet, as strange as it sounds, it is true.

Before the chainsaw became the preferred tool of lumberjacks, horror movie villains, and slightly overconfident homeowners, it was a surgical instrument. Specifically, it was developed for symphysiotomies, a procedure used in the 18th century to widen the pelvic bone during difficult childbirth. Back then, if a baby was stuck and a C-section wasn’t an option (because anesthesia was still a fever dream and most medical procedures were, at best, an educated guess), doctors needed a way to cut through cartilage quickly and efficiently. Enter two Scottish doctors, John Aitken and James Jeffray, who in the late 1700s developed a hand-cranked chainsaw to perform this grim task.

This early chainsaw, while terrifying in concept, was actually a medical marvel. It made symphysiotomies faster, more precise, and—by the standards of the time—somewhat less horrifying than using a standard knife. But, unsurprisingly, women were not particularly thrilled about having a tiny saw taken to their pelvis, and the procedure fell out of favor as medical techniques improved. By the late 19th century, C-sections had become the safer and preferred method of delivery, and the chainsaw was looking for a new purpose in life.

The transition from childbirth to forestry wasn’t immediate, but it was inevitable. The principle of a rotating chain with cutting teeth was, after all, quite useful for more than just human anatomy. In 1830, a German orthopedist named Bernhard Heine created the osteotome, a mechanized version of the surgical chainsaw designed specifically for cutting bone. It was smaller than modern chainsaws but functionally similar, with a chain of small teeth looped around a guide bar. While its primary use remained in medicine, the idea of mechanized cutting tools began to take hold.

By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, engineers and inventors were looking for ways to make tree cutting more efficient. Up until then, loggers relied on axes and hand saws, which were slow, exhausting, and often required an entire crew to fell a single tree. The first major step toward the modern chainsaw came in 1905 when Samuel J. Bens patented the “endless chain saw” for use in logging. A few years later, in 1918, Canadian James Shand developed a portable chainsaw, though it was still a two-man operation, as the thing was massive.

Then came Andreas Stihl. If you’ve ever seen a chainsaw, chances are the name Stihl is somewhere on it. In 1926, this German engineer developed the first electric chainsaw, followed three years later by the first gasoline-powered model. These early versions were still hulking behemoths, requiring two people to operate, but they marked the beginning of the chainsaw’s dominance in the timber industry. The machines became smaller, more efficient, and, by the 1950s, light enough for a single person to use.

With improvements in design, chainsaws became the go-to tool for loggers, arborists, and eventually, homeowners like me who needed to cut through fallen limbs after a storm. The technology advanced rapidly—anti-vibration handles, automatic chain brakes, and lightweight materials made them safer (relatively speaking) and easier to handle. By the 1980s, chainsaws had evolved into the powerful, ergonomic tools we know today, no longer resembling the crude, hand-cranked devices of the 18th century.

Reflecting on all of this as I triumphantly stepped back from my freshly rebuilt fence, still in possession of all my limbs, I had a newfound respect for my chainsaw. It had come a long way from its ghastly origins in childbirth. And while I may not be qualified to perform surgery with it (nor should anyone, ever, attempt that again), I could at least say that I had used it successfully—without injury—to complete a backyard project. The chainsaw, once a tool of desperate doctors, had found its true calling not in operating rooms but in the hands of loggers, homeowners, and DIY warriors like me who, despite our best efforts, occasionally need a little mechanical assistance to get the job done.