Sheila and the Yellowjackets

     There was a cool breeze coming in ahead of the approaching cold front.  Such a wonderful refreshment after this long hot summer.  With record temperatures over the hundred degree mark and the worst drought in my lifetime, the rain that had just ended was a welcome respite.  The change in the weather has put us into the mood to put up a fence around our property.  We had been planning to do this for a couple of years, but it had been pushed to the back for one reason or another.  Not only the weather, but my neighbor pushing his dead tree limbs onto my side, helped to make it happen.  So here we go, working hard on another project.
     Saturday, we had cleared a walkway around the perimeter of the property.  I used the 8-N Ford tractor and bush hog to do this.  As I rode and bush hogged, Sheila was clipping bushes that were so close to the trees that I could not reach them with the tractor.   I went between two nice-sized pine trees , the ground was covered with pine straw and fairly clean.
     Starbuck, as usual, was with me, but Dakota was with Sheila.  When those two walked between the pines, Dakota yelped in pain.  She was covered with yellow jackets.  Sheila was raking them off Dakota's fur with her bare hands, oblivious to the ones swarming around her.  As she caught one, she would mash it between her fingers and dash it to the ground, and grab another one.  She was furious and declared war.
     On Friday, the day before, one had stung Sheila on the leg and she let it slide.  However, today the picked on her baby.  She stomped down the lane with her butt on her hips, leaning forward as she walked with her arms swinging stiff.  I knew all hell was going to spill out over 1625 Ashford Road.
     "You stirred up that yellow jacket nest and I'm going to kill them all" she exclaimed.
"Yes ma'am", I murmured.
"What?"
     That was more a rhetorical question, but I felt that I needed to answer anyway.
"O K", I spoke a little louder.
     I had been on the receiving end of her anger before and I knew the yellow jackets were in trouble.  As I watched her walk away, I smiled, for I knew what was coming.  In a few moments she returned, looking as if she were a haz-mat worker.  Even though it was still in the eighties, she was covered from head to toe.  Three pairs of my jogging pants, two long sleeve shirts, a cotton hoodie and over that a rain slicker buttoned to the top.  A can of Raid in one hand and a bucket of hot soapy water in the other.  She set the Raid down and poured the hot soapy water into the entrance hole.  That gave her a few seconds to step back and grab the Raid can.  When the soldiers came boiling out, she blasted them with the Raid. 
     The fog of insecticide was so thick, they could not see her.  If one got past the spray, she would knock it down and stomp on it.  There were so many that you could not tell the swarm from the Raid fog.  It was touch and go there for a moment, but then the fog lifted and she was the only one left standing.  At that point, she picked up a long stick, poked it into the hole and twisted it around.  A few more came out and she promptly dispensed them.
     She had locked the dogs in the pen to keep them out of harm's way, before going to war.  She was fighting something and I was working.  Starbuck could not stand for that.  Sheila desperately needed his help to win.  If he was not supervising me, I would surely mess up the  job.  How dare Sheila lock him up.  He was furious and fit to be tied.  When we went in for the night, I noticed that he had almost dug under the fence.  Another few moments and he would have been out to rescue us.  Good wife and good dog.