So it looks like we got ourselves kinda a new trail boss here on the County Island, that goes by the name of Miss Endomondo. As far as I can tell, she lives inside our bucket gal’s new fancy telephone, the kind that the people are always holdin up next to their ear-holes and tellin “important” information when they should be payin attention to us horses and where we’re goin’. You likely already know my opinion on all the foolish multi-taskin the County Island people do. And I told ya what happened the time our horseshoer told his telephone to “whoa.” That tale still makes me chuckle every time I think of it. And all that makes me think that telephones is a bad idea, overall. And, yeah, all my quote marks are meant to be ironical; I been learnin how to be “ironic” like I already told ya before.
So this here Miss Endomondo – and I know she’s a miss ‘cause she’s got a miss’ voice, although I ain’t met her in-person yet, but I suspect I will eventually – resides inside the new so-called smart telephone. I heard that the bucket gal’s old phone weren’t nearly so smart, as far as such a thing as a phone goes, I guess, and I suspect she sent the old, dumb phone “down the road,” if you catch my meanin.
Now, when we set out on a ride, instead of gatherin my reins, lookin ahead and then lettin me lead the way, our bucket gal consults with her telephone, to make sure it knows where we’re goin, I guess. And then along the way, Miss Endomondo will talk to the bucket gal out of the blue, and tell her such nonsense as, “You have now traveled 1 mile,” or “You have now been exercising for 30 minutes.”
And then, our gal was all showin her friends how, oooh, looky here, the telephone knows exactly where we are right now – it knows we’re on the main road standin by the big cactus!
Well, ya know what? I know exactly where we are right now, too, and I always know where we are in relation to our home-corral. And so would you, if you’d look up and see where ya is, instead of lookin at the telephone and relyin on Miss Endomondo instead of your perfectly useful ranch horse.
So I got some ideas for Miss Endomondo, as long as she’s gonna be ridin along with us all the time and prattlin on with information that a horse don’t need to hear. Maybe she could say somethin useful for a change.
For instance, instead of sayin, “Your average rate of speed is 2.9 miles per hour,” she could say, “Hey, Whiskey! That big rock up ahead ain’t a rock. It’s a big ol’ desert tortoise, so best be mindful if it moves.”
Or, “Caution. That’s a rattlesnake right there.”
So she’s clearly not trackin nearly as much as the people seem to think she is.
Or, I’d like to find out if she knows as much as I do. I know all the shortest ways back home, and I always do. I can pick the quickest way back home to my feed bucket from danged near wherever we are. I bet Miss Endomondo can’t do that. I bet she ain’t got a map of the entire County Island stored up in her memory like I do.
Can she tell me what time bucket time is? Likely not.
So exactly what kinda trail boss is she supposed to be? A trail boss is supposed to keep everyone all together and movin in the proper direction, without losin no horse nor cattle, and make sure everyone knows what they need to know, and has whatever supplies and feed they need, not tell ya stuff ya already know, or stuff no horse or no person needs to know.
I just ain’t all that impressed, even if she does have a purty voice. Purty is as purty does, and as far as I can tell, that still makes me the purtiest one ‘round these parts.