Speaking of touch sensitive

This morning, I scouted the yard for a piece of cedar I wanted.

I heard rustling around me.

Lo and behold, four small nine-banded primitive creatures were pushing their snouts into the leafy underbrush.

Baby armadillos!

They and I moved about each other with ease.

They seemed unmiffed by my presence.

I walked along with them for a couple of minutes.

Then, curiosity got the better of me.

I rubbed my gloved hands across the backs of two of them.

They scampered away.

Furry cats they’re not. Feral-like, they are.

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