Well I was bucking behind the old man one fine sunny morning, when 9:00 rolls around and we shut off the saws to have a shot of coffee.
He said something to the effect of he wished I’d get my a** in gear and his grandmothers goat was faster than me.
Well I knew pretty clearly what he was hinting at, so I upsin and tells him to go get the flippin goat.
He snickered and lit another Pall Mall. His way of prompting a person was a bit out of the ordinary but highly effective most of the time.
I went back to work loppin and limbing some of the hundreds of pecker poles. He had so neatly stacked four deep and finally worked my way out of that mess all the time hoping to see one decent tree that day.
He had by this time went up and gathered up nosebags, shovels, extra wedges, gas oil and water jugs to get ready for the next strip which was just across the draw.
Just for your information, I seem to attract bees just by stepping out of the truck, and when working in the woods, one has the occasion to find some of the little buggers at the most inconvenient times.
Well this unwanted attraction for some unknown reason sends waves of laughter thru’ the old man, which I vaguely understand but anything to keep the mood upbeat.
Well I grab all my gear and head off in the direction of the next strip.
About halfway there, am walking down this windfall which is adjacent to an old snag with lots of loose bark and full of woodpecker holes.
On the uphill side of the log am sauntering down is a patch of young firs about 3 feet tall, and the log am on is laying supported by a stump about a foot over the tops of these bushes.
Well the old man is right on my ass and in a hurry to get to the bottom of this next strip and feels that my progress is impeding his, which is nothing out of the usual, so am not surprised by some of his comments.
Am about 15 feet away from the snag and notice a lot of bees going in a hole about ankle high.
Well not wanting to be impartous, I stops and puts it in reverse and abruptly run into the old man.
He knows the reason of my decided change of direction and says in his politest query …”what the f*** are you doing dummy?”…
I said there is bees up there.
Again he injects his tolerance of my phobia and says with all due concern …”ooh don’t be a f*** P*** git going”…
So undoubtably aware of his wishes, I decide to proceed, but not before making a few necessary preparations.
I stops and buttons up my collar and roll down my sleeves, tuck my shirt in, pull my piss pot down around my ears and decides to take my chances.
I picks up all my stuff and mutter a little prayer. With the old man faunching at the bit to get going. I figures I’d just teepee creep right past their little nest and not look back.
The old Man knowing what is about to happen, backs up away and waits for the inevitable.
I gets about three feet past and thinking, am going to get away without being noticed, when I comes to the very realization that I’ve been caught. Several of these red hot little buggers have located my cut off pant legs and now are funneling straight up.
At this particular point in time, am finding out the true meaning of surprise attack.
All of the sudden my posterior is on fire, and I jump straight up in the air and let out a howl, God only knows where all my gear landed.
I bailed off that log at a dead run up into the middle of that patch of firs and was diligently trying to get a couple biting stinging annoyances out of my shirt.
About then, the second squadron spots me and zeros in. I sees am coming, and in the mode of self preservation I decides to take cover by ducking down.
When I squats down, I discover there is something foreign between me and my skivvies. I shot up in the air like a skyrocket howling like a lovesick coyote.
The Old Man was having the time of his life watching my antics and was not ashamed to let loose with a little more than a snicker, along with some more of his advice. …”hey dummy will you quit f*** around and pick up all those wedges, were going to need a few of them”…
After twenty minutes of composing myself and trying to locate all my gear, I finally get over to the next strip and dump a few poles to start on in the morning.
Well, we gets up to the truck and deposit all our gear in the back and I notice the Old man has this unusual smirk on his face and after a split second I realize the source of his humor.
He found it particularly funny that we were seventeen miles from the nearest paved road and I was driving.
Needless to say I made a point of dodging every chuckhole and eased into every waterbar ever so gently so as not to cause undo bumps.
All the time listening to him bitch about how big of a hurry he was in to get home.
The Old Man had a hellofa sense of humor and most generally at other peoples expense.
