The Hills Are Alive

Looking over to Arran from Birgidale Moor, Bute

…with ticks.

Thus far, the spouse has suffered no obvious ill-effects from the severed tick head left embedded in his posterior after last week’s bodged removal attempt, but when he discovered another one nestling into his stomach as we went for a rather nice walk across Birgidale Moor on Saturday,  I decided there would be no theatrical faffing about with tweezers this time. I went for a successful stealth attack with my fingernails in the middle of a field. The blood-sucking varmint came out cleanly, but unfortunately it was along with a 1mm diameter circle of the spouse’s skin pinched accidentally in the process.

Think it might be time to track down a tick twister gadget.

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