When you've been stung more than 1,000 times, it's only sensible to write a book about stinging insects.

Schmidt and I have very different definitions of "gentle giant". You can tell a lot about an book by the author's photo. My author photo for Venomous, for example, paints me as the intrepid explorer; I look adventurous and daring as I smile unabashedly through the legs of a large tailless whip scorpion (amblypygid). But while the photo is startling, it's not as bold as it seems. It's a facade of bravado, not real bravery, as the menacing-looking animal on my cheek is actually harmless. Meanwhile, in his author photo for Sting of the Wild, Justin Schmidt shows that he's far more daring: on his nose crawls a large Dinoponera ant. Schmidt probably would laugh at my assessment of the image; after all, he refers to the Dinoponera, the largest ants on Earth, as the "gentle giants of the ant world." But I went with a non-stinging amblypigid rather than an ant for a reason. According to Schmidt's own colorful and cheeky index detailing the pain of insect stings, the ant crawling across his face possesses "A pulsing sting with some flavor." Sure, it only scores a 1.5 out of 4.0 on his pain scale—but that's 1.5 more painful than any species I would place on my snout.