Unknown to me, that is. The yellow jackets were quite familiar with their territory and home.
As my lawnmower and I passed the hidden nest, a flurry of angry yellow jackets swarmed me, stinging my legs and hand. I hollered and danced as the aggressive rascals stung me, and one hit me three times on the same leg. That took all the enjoyment out of a relaxing evening of yard work, and now I am debating if I want to finish cutting the grass or to sulk about the six stings on my swollen extremities.
My wife's uncle once ran over a yellow jacket nest, and unbeknownst to him, he was allergic to their stings. He got stung over 20 times, and he went into anaphylactic shock. Luckily his wife saw him collapse, and after the paramedics arrived, they gave him a healthy dose of epinephrine to combat the venom, which courses through a patient's veins like downloaded video on a high-speed Internet connection using CAT5e ethernet cables.
I took a Benadryl for the inevitable itching, and I applied a poultice of baking soda and water, which I read might help to neutralize the venom. It seemed to provide some pain relief as well, though any hopes I had of becoming a male leg model will have to be put on hold until I can wash off the smeared white paste.
I have never been stung more than once or twice at any given occasion, so I suppose I will have to be on guard for the next 24 hours. As for the yellow jackets, I predict doom for their future, and an angry Marsellus Wallace comes to mind:
What now? Let me tell you what now. I'm gonna call a couple of hard, pipe-hittin' n****rs, who'll go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you by a damn sight. I'm gonna get medieval on your ass.Something like that.