|In preparation for the pig sticking, I am twisting the lance so I can|
hold it safely and not break a bone when I hit the pig. By
Blessi's look of long suffering, you can also see me bop my
head--which I managed to do twice.
On Friday, I had just moved Blessi into his stall and I was off loading additional gear. A gentleman walked up and said he needed some horse urine or camel urine for a ceremony from his native country. Now in SCA many people are familiar with uses of urine in the Middle Ages from softening leather to making dye to creating medicines. Several of us agreed to try and help. As we waited for Blessi, the man helped me with putting up stall decorations. But it seems a watched gelding never drops and we could not help him out.
A friend asked me if Blessi accosted women. Puzzled, I shook my head and asked what did Blessi do. "Oh, he put his head down my shirt and nuzzled my bra." I had to explain that he has done that in the past and he seems to select only women that laugh at the behavior. "He is fascinated with the bow on the bra," I explained as the guys standing around admired to themselves what Blessi could get away with.
And these are just the adventures with Blessi from three days. Just think what a lifetime of these adventures with an Icelandic horse are like.