This morning, near the beginning of walkies, I spotted a fuzzy tan object in a parking turnout.
Stepping over the low fence, I got close enough to confirm that it was, indeed, a dead (and uneaten) woodrat. One of the docents stopped at the same time, and spoke of tossing it in the freezer, on general principles.
Stepping back over the fence to the trail, I clonked my little toe on the top rail. Five-Fingerses provide little protection against toe-clonkage. Now I've got a purple toe.
Well, at least it doesn't seem to be broken this time. Didn't get notably worse as I continued for another 3½ miles or thereabouts, and it's not terribly sensitive. Just kinda sore, and very purple indeed.
I keep thinking I should install a set of steel toe caps on the old pair of foot gloves. One cap per toe, of course. Maybe with claws, like those things Die Fledermaus wears. (Yeah, probably a bad idea: with the extra leverage, that fence likely would have broken my toe.)