The maple tree out in front of my home was beautiful, and huge. Its branches spread out over our main street. When its autumn leaves reached their beautiful peak, our street was coated with a breathtaking shade of blazing red. But when it rained, cars and cyclists needed to proceed with caution due to slippery conditions.
In one of the lower branches there lived a hornet’s nest, about 15 feet above the street, with its gray conical shape teeming with the insects. We needed to be watchful whenever we were in the vicinity of the nest, for there were always a few of the critters flying about, keeping watchful hornets’ eyes fixed on us “foreigners.”
It was a balmy mid-August day in the late 1940s. I was walking home from a friend’s house just down the street. As I walked under our maple tree, I felt something stab me in the back of my neck. I thought I was stabbed by a dagger. “Ouch, that hurt!” I yelled. I quickly reached around and pulled off a half-dead hornet! I threw it to the pavement and stomped on it. That nasty creature would never sting anyone again.
Hornet stings are more painful than most other stinging insects. I wasn’t about to go through another painful experience like that again. I devised a plan that would eliminate this stinging threat once and for all. I would burn them out! I needed certain equipment to complete the task. I’d need to cover my body as much as possible, like a beekeeper. I wore long pants, and a long-sleeved shirt, gloves, and a hat that would cover everything but my face.
So far, so good. Now for the tricky part. What would I use to burn out that nasty nest? I looked around our basement, and voila! I found a five-gallon can of kerosene. My father always kept it on hand for lanterns and portable stoves. But what would I use for a torch? Aha! I found a 12-foot piece of 2-by-4 lumber and a box of rags. I was ready for action.
As I traipsed to the site, many neighbors gathered around to watch this unprecedented event. I positioned myself directly under the nest. No stings. So far, so good. My first step was to wrap a rag around the end of the 2-by-4. My second step was to set the rag on fire. My final step was, attack! I raised my torch to the opening of the nest, and in one or two seconds, the nest was engulfed in flames. Only a couple of hornets escaped. The rest fell to the pavement, dead. Their sound hitting the pavement sounded like heavy raindrops. Mission accomplished.
My neighbors cheered and clapped for my good deed for the neighborhood. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one that was attacked, and they agreed that hornet stings were very painful. I checked the site daily for a month to see if there was a new nest. There was none. Thankfully.
