Everyone was so intent on medicating Woody I couldn’t get close to his scrape any more.

That scrape was turning into the biggest attraction.

He got it a few days earlier when he flipped upside down in a horse trailer crossing Core Creek. It was nothing serious; just some hair gone. No blood, no stitches. It was the equine equivalent of a scraped knuckle, a bit of bared mule hide.… Continue reading →