As dusk fell after a hot day, the horses emerged from the shade of their shelter to graze in the cooler, fly-free evening. I joined them.
Bridget pestered me for a lot of hindquarter and tummy scratches, backing into me, gesturing with her head, and waggling her hind leg to tell me where to scratch. Finally I got tired of this and wandered off.
George came over and said hello, and I reflected that George, who is the one who most likes comfort, is the one who is the best at giving it. Despite his tendency toward bossiness and grabbiness, he is the one who is the most peaceful with me, often asking for nothing except quiet companionship.
After George had strolled off and I was mulling all this over, Bridget, who had disappeared behind a tree, came back into view and marched purposefully towards me. She took my arm in her teeth - not a bite, not a nip, but a gesture of some sort - and then let go. She walked forward, backed slowly into me until she made contact, stayed like that for a couple of moments without asking for scratches, and then walked off intent on grazing.
Had she read my thoughts? And what did her response mean?