I was in the backyard fucking with the dog this morning and noticed a hornet hanging around his food dish.
This is not good.
So I started checking under the eaves and gables of the house and garage and bigger than shit, there's a fucking nest up under the eaves on the rear of the garage, right next to the orange tree and no place to run for a quick getaway.
I'll tackle that motherfucker tonight as soon as it gets dark and cool.
I expect I'll be laid up for a couple of days.
That reminds me of the time I was out shooting jackrabbits when I was about 10 years old and spotted a huge hornets' nest hanging off the platform of a broken down windmill about 35 yards away.
Being a rather stupid youngster, I shot that sonofabitch.
As soon as that 22 mag hit the nest, it looked like a huge cloud boiled out of it, heading right for me, so I hauled ass, heading for a stock tank that I'd passed just on the other side of a rise. I got about 10 yards from the tank when somebody hit me right between the shoulder blades with a baseball bat.
That's what it felt like, anyways.
I dove into that tank and stayed underwater for the next 10 minutes, coming up for air as needed. After a while they lost interest and I climbed out, shook the water out of my rifle and took my injured ass on home where Mom applied salve to the bites on my back and face.
I learned a lesson that day: Next time, shoot from further back. A lot further back.