Hubs and I camped last week at Big Bend National Park, where we spent our days hiking the many incredible trails there. In the past, we’ve seen all sorts of wildlife on our hikes: bears, javelina, tarantulas, giant grasshoppers, roadrunners and mule deer. And last year, we came this close to getting our first view of a real, live mountain lion.

Our wildlife sightings were fewer this year, but we did encounter something we deemed the most vicious yet: wasps.

On our way to Pine Canyon, Hubs pulled over to check a rough spot in the road. While he puttered around outside, I opened a novel, kicked off my shoes and started reading. Just as Hubs got back into the truck, I felt something brush my arm.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!” yelled Hubs. “WASP!”

I should mention here that while my spouse is very much a rugged outdoorsman, nothing sends him into a panic quite like a close encounter with a wasp. And I, too, equally dislike anything that stings.

“AHHHHH!” Hubs hollered again, just before flinging open the door and charging into the desert.

“EEEEEEKKK!!” I squealed, leaping out the passenger side — still barefoot.

For the next few minutes, there was much shrieking and running around in circles while the aggressive wasp chased us.

Finally, we managed to throw ourselves back into the truck and slam the doors. Still, the wasp continued to charge the windows as we drove away.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the trailhead. As I put my shoes back on, Hubs went to the back of the truck to grab some bottled water from the cooler. I was tying my shoelaces when I heard the commotion.

Through the front windshield, I saw my manly Hubs running backwards and flapping his arms in an attempt to elude yet another wasp. I, of course, fell all over myself laughing.

A few minutes later, laces tied, I hopped out of the truck, only to be confronted by another ugly wasp. “AAAIIIEEEE!” I screamed, running around the truck.

“Shut the door!” Hubs yelled, as he ran the other way.

“I can’t!” I shrieked. “It’s chasing me! You shut it!”

“I can’t!” Hubs yelled, running past me in the opposite direction with his own wasp in pursuit. “One’s chasing me too!”

After a few more laps around the truck, we managed to escape the evil things and set off on our hike.

Upon our return a few hours later, we exchanged looks and ran like hell for the truck. And as we drove off, a couple of wasps charged our windows yet again.

I don’t know what kind of wasps these were, but they certainly reduced these two devoted hikers to wailing wussies.