The Bozo who shook the hornets’ nest

by T. Touris –

Just to let you know, this is a dark tale, dark in the way that some people seem to wander around in the dark without having a clue. This is my tale.

On our property we have an old barn.  Last year we had a very nice family gathering where good food and fun was had by all.  My wife and I love our new home, which we moved to a few years ago and have been working diligently to make into our paradise on earth.  As such, I feel it is important to show off my impressive efforts to “get back to the land” and show people around the property, which is quite beautiful.

While strolling the land with my brother, he noticed a nasty hornet nest inside the defunct mercury vapor light mounted on the dilapidated barn.  He said I should go poke it with a stick. I gave a courteous laugh as one does when someone suggests something that only an idiot would do.

Flash-forward a couple of months; after a long effort to overcome more rational urges regarding finances, I had convinced myself and my wife that a shiny new tractor was a sound investment and an indispensible tool in our efforts to create our paradise. The tractor arrived, complete with backhoe, late in the summer.

I have a vague memory of getting a new Tonka truck one year for Christmas and being very frustrated at having to wait until summer for a pile of dirt or sand to use it in. Not this time. The morning after the beautiful mass of steel and grease had arrived; I knew what I had to do.

Our old barn door had probably last closed in the 1970’s, and had become buried and immoveable.  Aha! This was the perfect opportunity to christen the backhoe.  I fired the tractor up, lined it up and began tearing out dirt and roots.

The succeeding events are a bit of a blur.  But, after about five minutes, the hornets nesting directly above where the tractor was parked ran out of patience.  I’m sure they were initially incredulous that some clown would park directly below their nest, but soon they decided that the aggravating vibrations were more than they wanted to deal with. They quickly scrambled their defensive units and sent them directly to my face and head.

A benefit of living out in the boonies is that no one will see you when you are swatting your face while running to your house.  Fortunately, my wife did notice and I managed to communicate to her through my swollen lips that I should probably go see a doctor.  Some further discussion and gesturing was needed to convince her that taking a picture of my ballooning face was not our first priority.

One drawback of living in the boonies is that urgent medical care is hard to find on weekends and off-hours. Eventually, our odyssey to find relief ended at a Henrietta urgent care center, where a wonderful and amazing steroid intravenous drip was administered. That and an EPI pen prescription later, I was good as new and ready to get back on the tractor.