If you're not in north America, this little bastard is a Yellowjacket wasp. They nest underground and can be very aggressive about defending that nest. I've got them here and there on the property, but I usually don't run into any problems with them.
Not this morning though. Dad was mowing the lower yard, out by the road, and I thought I'd go prune up the little walnut trees down there.
I let the squirrels plant the walnuts for me a few years ago, and they're around 10 to 15 feet tall now. Walnuts can grow spindly and develop weak joints if you don't trim them back on occasion, and it's best to shape them young.
So, there I am, snipping back the low hanging branches, and I walk right on top of a yellowjacket nest I didn't know of. The vicious little bastards came boiling up out of the ground and stung me sixteen times before I realized they were even on me.
The tenacious little feckers hung with me all the way back to the house, a good hundred yards. I still had four on me when I stripped off in the kitchen.
I got it mostly around the ankles, with some on the arm and back, one on my pen holding finger, and two stings on my upper lip.
My grandmother was allergic to wasp stings and had to keep an epinephrine pen on hand, so my wife was pretty freaked out. Apparently though, I'm not carrying that particular gene.
My lip did swell up so much I looked like I'd been talking smack about Gary over at Knights&Knaves. I sounded like Elmer Fudd all day.
My face is just about back to normal now, but with all the venom, and the benedryls I took to counter it, I just laid around in a daze all day.
I did manage to put down some ideas for my Alchaemist class, so it wasn't a total loss of a day.
This does mean war, though. No more mister nice guy with stinging insects. I'm going to poison that nest and laugh. And every other wasp and hornet I can find. If it stings, and doesn't make honey, it's gonna die.