Exactly. I’m sure all the other UFO sites they have logged are really just the results of no-good punks “entertaining” themselves.
Then again, we did happen to burn the foliage in a rough shape of a fractal, and buried a piece of aluminum with strange markings engraved into it, in the center of the ruination. Just to fuck with 'em.
Female here. I can think of dozens of things I did over the years that would have put my mother in a coma had she known.
I was raised on a farm. There are 4 girls and 2 boys in our family. I was kid #5.
One thing we all did once was climb to the top of the ladder on the side of the barn and jump off into a huge pile of straw. We climbed way past the haymow entrance, to just below the roof. I don’t know the height, but it is at least 2+ stories up. The pile was huge, but as the day wore on it got smaller and flatter. We had the neighbor kids join in too, at one point. Two more girls and a boy.
My Pa nearly killed us when he saw the pile all spread out. How we all survived with not even a broken bone I will never know. When I look at it now, I can’t even imagine jumping from half that height.
Another fun farm game was to see who could grab on to the electric fence and hold it the longest. I admit to instigating this one. I got caught up in it and couldn’t let go once. It was probably only 2 seconds, but I never did it again after that! It might explain some things about why I am like I am today.
After that incident I would do the much safer, hold-the-water-hose on the fence method. And then all the kids around would join hands and feel the shock with me. Wheeeeeee.
Good times.
This is a boys never grow out of seeking danger story;
I bought an old Chevy Vega for 25.00 once. It strangely had an excellent running engine but had been stored dirty, in MI, where they use 100% salt on the roads in winter. When I drove it rust flecks would rain from the ceiling. Rain would rain from the ceiling. It was as solid as a strainer. Well, it needed a new muffler and I couldn’t get the old one off so I asked my dad for help. He grabbed his blow torch and crawled under the car. I said “Dad, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, he said that it would be fine. I said “I’ll just go wait inside by the phone.”
It did turn out fine but I thought it was a risky move. After the summer I sold it to the junkyard for 35.00.
I just remembered a) aged seven throwing an empty metal oil can on a fire we’d lit in the woods, with the lid screwed firmly on, and being knocked off my feet by the shockwave when it exploded; and b) my friend “Q” pouring a puddle of gasoline on the ground, lighting it, then running through it and leaving a line of flaming footprints down the street.
Q was actually very creative in this regard. Not only did he and my brother burn a giant swastika into a local field - not because they are nazis, but because they wanted to see if they could cause a witchhunt for fascists in the local papers - but they also stole a tripod from the chemistry lab, put a full butane gas cannister on it and set a blow torch burning underneath it, then retreated to a “safe” distance. After ten minutes nothing had happened, so they approached to see what had gone wrong - at which point it went WHOMP and the cannister disappeared into the sky, never to be seen again, leaving a two foot crater beneath where it had been.
Things that came out of my mouth during childhood:
“If we throw a rope over that branch and tie it down, we can swing from the roof. It’ll be awesome!”
Result: one case of severely rope-burned hands and a mild concussion (separate incidents)
“Bottle rocket war? Sounds awesome. Even better if we do it in the dark and use strings of firecrackers as grenades!”
Result: no serious damage.
“I built this fort out of popsicle sticks. I’m gonna take it in the backyard and set up a buncha army guys in it.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m gonna set it on fire.”
Result: neighbors complained to my parents.
“If we glue this model rocket to this model car, what do we get? A rocket car.”
Result: awesome.
“Everyone pops a Sour Warhead, a Hot Warhead and an Atomic Fireball in their mouth at the same time. Last person to spit them out and drink water wins.”
Result: some hair on the chest.
“I stomped on 14 bees at recess.”
Result: Don’t we have a bee shortage? Crap.
“BEEEELLLLLLLCH”
“And what do we say?”
“Thank you.”
Result: timeout.
“I threw my toad farther than you.”
“Yeah, but mine went higher.”
Result: ummm… natural selection?
“First person to chug their milk wins!”
Result: One giant gulp of rotten milk, and that was the end of that.
Each of these activities was undertaken either of my own volition, or under pressure from other boys. I knew a guy in high school who set his house on fire trying to kill black widows with a lighter and hairspray. Even though it was a serious financial hardship for his family, he endured severe ridicule at the hands of his peers. I don’t recall seeing any of this type of activity from those of the female persuasion.
Hmm, what are some of the dumber stunts I did as a boy…
playing tag on the rooftops at a school, leaping between buildings
playing bike tag; “it” had to hit the other players with a tennis ball while everyone rode around at high speed
lighting various and sundry things on fire
trying to make a spark by putting paper clips into an extension cord and then plugging it in (didn’t work)
walking across the concrete support beams of an unfinished freeway overpass
climbing up and across the little walkway on a frieght train car while the train was stopped
jumping out of trees
climbing insanely high up on trees or fences (30+ feet)
bicycling along a winding country road with no shoulder at night and no lights other than headlights
When I was a lad, we’d break into a construction site nearby and play. At some point, there was a huge pile of sand on the property (maybe six feet high), so we did the only logical thing: rode our bikes out of the second floor aiming to land on said pile of sand. Several females were present, but they declined to participate.
When I was old enough to know better, I participated in the commandeering of several electric carts from my school’s maintenance area one night. Then we started racing them around the athletic track and, as my cart was overtaking another one in a turn, I did the only logical thing: I swung myself into the back of the cart and jumped to the cargo area of the other cart. (Or so they told me at the hospital). No females spotted in the area.
I was tomboy through and through - tree houses, sword fights, getting stuck in pipes, testing that leeches do exactly what they do. Though I drew the line at setting anything on fire or torturing animals (cow taunting doesn’t count does it?).
When I lived in upstate NY, we lived at the top of a hill. In the wintertime, we’d ride our sleds full speed down the hill to the busiest street in town. Of course it being the dead of winter, other than a city bus and an occasional car, it was pretty clear. In the summertime, my friend Chrissy and I decided we did it all winter, why not in the summer? We rode our bikes down the hill, arms and legs splayed, to slam on the brakes. The bigger the cloud of smoke and the closer to Main St. you got, the cooler you were. Of course, traffic was much worse. One time Chrissy miscalucated her timing and had the choice of hitting a huge oak tree or careening through traffic. She hit the tree with such force, every part of her exposed skin was bleeding. She looked like she was bleeding to death but after the fireman wiped her down, there was no more blood nor a cut. She immediately claimed it was a miracle from God and smiled like a darling. We were both spanked after the firemen left. We also didn’t get our bikes back that summer (of course her’s was pretty mangled).
In the late 70s, while living on Treasure Island, my parents and pretty much all parents on our block went to the base Christmas party. The oldest on the block who was supposed to be keeping on eye on us was entertaining her boyfriend. We, the 10 or so roaming the streets, decided it’d be great to ring in the new year. Everyone went and got their dad’s stash of fireworks. I grabbed 2 packages of bottle rockets from the 10 or so my dad had and had particular fun at pointing them at people. My brother got the little bombs. We had a great time, only one kid got a significant burn. The ‘babysitter’ came out and freaked out and made us clean up all the evidence, which admittedly we had not thought about. We got away with it, though I think the parents knew we had done something.
There wasn’t confirmation until July, when my dad went to get his stash out of the closet. Seems my brother used over half of my dad’s illegal stash of M-80s. He tried to ban us from the festivities of the 4th, but my mom wouldn’t let him. My father still complains about it.
Just last weekend my 7 & 9 year old and I did the cracker game. 
We did it again when the 18 yro got home from his date and complained about missing out.
Guy here.
My friend Pat and I loved to play handball … with a dangerous twist:
Well, we did wear heavy-duty work gloves … which caught on fire most of the time because a flaming lighter-fluid-soaked ball will shed some of its flaming lighter fluid when it rapidly changes direction by 180 degrees!
Female.
Did tons of risky stuff as a kid (still do from time to time;)). Often with other girls like my friends or cousins, sometimes with a boy or few in tow.
Climbing trees, made tree “swings” out of assorted rusty metal and ropes, crawling around in the rotten rafters of the old tool shed, playing in the old storm cellar (strictly forbidden since the door and stairs were rotten and full of rusted nails…we cleaned the rotten stairs out and used the slope as a slide), started fires, brought home dead animals and parts of them, caught turtles in the nasty ditch, jumped off the roof, rode bikes down the VERY steep hill near home at death-defying speeds, I can’t even remember it all. It’s a wonder any of us survived childhood. 
I think a great deal of these “natural” differences come down to nurture, not nature, though I’m not beyond accepting that there are inherent differences generally (beyond the genitalia, I mean). But generalizations aside, I think it ultimately comes down to the individual and factors other than sex.
I worked with young children for many years, and knew plenty of boys who refused to get their hands dirty or climb the playscape and plenty of girls who “ran with the boys” and were fearless. (and I don’t think those predispositions have a damn thing to do with sexual orientation…I wouldn’t call myself “girly”, per se, but I’m sure not “butch” and I clean up REAL nice:))
Back when I was growing up, we kids ran pretty much wild from dawn to dusk, outside, in a rather rural setting. We had plenty of chances to get into trouble and try risky things. Many kids today have a much more sheltered existence.
How many of this gals in this thread who claimed to have snorted pixie sticks snorted red pepper from a pizza joint?
Didn’t think so.
I snorted cayenne once. It’s a long story, but does that count?