When I was a kid, we used to spend time, in a place called Red Mill creek.
It was a Saturday thing. There would be four or five of us. We would bring sammiches and soda, swim and go fishing Great Time. It was a little bit of a hike, (2) miles across the Hudson river, on the Dunn Memorial Bridge. This one particular Saturday, somebody suggested we go visit Farmer MacCluskey's garden.
Get some home grown Tomatoe's and Corn.
Yum. We rummaged through, a few aisles of Tomatoes, and the next thing we heard was "hey you little Bastards" Blam.
Double barrel rock salt.
We got out of their, as quick as our sore asses, would carry us. We didn't do much swimming or fishing that day.
Was a much longer walk home, limping.