In 1980, I was thirteen years of age. My family lived on five acres in rural Kentucky. On of my favorite pastimes was roaming the partially wooded property sometimes alone, sometimes with friends and family. On a beautiful summer day my friend was spending the afternoon. We decided to hike through the woods. With my friend and trusty mutt by my side, we went exploring the five acre wood. As was customary for a couple of thirteen year old man-cubs, we brought with us the essentials, bow and arrows and a pellet gun. Shortly into this expedition I noticed a bee hive located inside a tree hollow about ten feet off the ground. The bees were minding their own “beesness” shuttling back and forth into the hive. It was right about then when junior Einstein and his brother Einstein had an epiphany. Like a bolt of lightning that struck my brain I suggested that a flaming arrow launched into the hive would be great fun. My friend eagerly agreed that this plan was most excellent and this well conceived assault of the unwary bees was put into motion. I took aim while my friend lit the gasoline soaked rag tightly tied to the arrows tip setting the projectile ablaze. Upon the ceremonious release, the arrow zoomed to the exact location I took aim on. With cheers and the customary secret hand shake we watched the entrance of the bee hive on fire. The fire did not last long as the fuel became quickly exhausted. With a great crescendo, a buzz grew and immediately a swarm of bees raced out of their home to attack the responsible party righteously so. I suppose my eyes were as big as my friends at that moment, but we quickly abandoned this foolish plan and ran towards my home to seek shelter from the angry swarm of bees. My friend and I escaped unscathed, however my trusty mutt who was not in on the caper soon became collateral damage as the stunt double.