The sun’s rays hadn’t broken through the tree line when Don and I–appropriately clad for hunting–crept step by step toward our target. There was no breeze, no movement in the pasture. With our OPS plan in place, we staged for execution.
Three, two, one–showtime!! We aimed our full cans of RAID into the old rusty puppy/kitten/chicken crate behind the shop. Blasting the yellow jacket nest from two directions, the killing began. Maniac laughter filled the pre-dawn air–I got a bit carried away! Eliminating a hated predator does that to me.
Not a yellow pest escaped! I did a quick body count–bunches–then pulled the nest. Now I claim the title of a Cracker Jacker Jacket Tracker.
You’re such a goofball, Megs! Glad you have fun searching and destroying! None of the nests we had this year got that big, but it wasn’t from lack of trying. The stupid buggers keep building in the place we can’t spray (corner of the 2nd story, not near any windows), but can knock it down with the pool pole. Guess that makes them smart buggers, not stupid.
I take that as high praise, Margaret!
We’ve had a few of those on the top eaves of the shop.
When those suckers come in the house, I’m there with my electric tennis racket! Love to hear them fry–bwahhhaaa.
Lol. I think you enjoyed the destruction a little too much. What a hilarious description. No stings, I hope?
I love some things I do around the ranch. No stings, and none for the Donald.
Okay, you win. I don’t go looking for ones to kill. I just destroy the ones who invade my space. I bow at your feet, o great hunter!
Oh, thank you, Marilyn! I would sacrifice my body to save you from any stings too.
You know how twisted I am, and to hunt just makes the kill so much better.