Maresy Doats and ...

If the question ever comes up, "Where should you not put your bicep?," I submit that in the jaws of an upset mare is one good suggestion. I was just across the street feeding the kids and one of the colts was reluctant to go out of the stall with me. I was tugging toward the door, and she was tugging back into the stall. Mama decided to referee and nipped me in the arm. She's a contrary cuss anyway and had been nipping at the colt earlier. She hasn't mastered, or even really attempted the art of sharing. Her boudoir is the least on her list for dual occupancy, even with blood kin. So I now will be opting for long-sleeve shirts in the foreseeable future. It doesn't even look like a halfway decent tatoo. It's just a big old bloody bruise with some scrapes where her bottom teeth attempted to make contact with her uppers. Shoot. Well, I now have my first battle scar and it still beats a kick in the head. Somewhat.

Note to self. Must buy plate armor.