“We bought this to help get the horses’ ears up for in hand practice,” the prancin lady proclaimed, one time when Coors Light was participatin in a prancin lesson, and she held the big stick up in front of his nose to show to him and the bucket gal. No, I ain’t got no idea why prancey people would want to get a horse’s ears all up in their hands, nor do I care nor what it’s got to do with sticks. But if I had to guess, I’d say maybe so they could clip their ears? Like maybe the stick was meant to be a big a twitch? Anyhow.
Then she turned the stick upside down. And it rattled.
Coors Light wisely planted his hooves right where they was, and slowly turned his head sideways so he could eyeball the prancin arena dirt all around him to check for snakes.
He eyeballed it to the left, and then he eyeballed it all to the right. His ears went all sideways to listen and ask “Where is it?” — while the bucket gal and the prancin lady laughed and laughed, on account of all the other prancey horses had lost their brains clear out of their heads at the rattlin sound, and ran backwards, and generally behaved like prancey horses, but Coors Light knew a rattlesnake when he heard one and he knew the only sensible thing a horse should do is stop and know where the snake was first before proceedin. Which proves that prancin people are nuts, laughin at the only sane horse on the whole entire prancin ranch.
Coors Light says the prancin lady called it a “indian rain stick,” and I think that’s a terrible thing. First, it don’t sound like rain at all. It sounds like a snake. And second, why would anybody make a stick that sounds like a snake, when there’s already snakes that sound like snakes?
I wish I’d been there to see all them other prancey horses meet the snake stick. I bet the prancin lady got a whole lot more horse parts up in the air with it than their ears – likely also their hooves, and their necks, and their tails, and all the dirt they kicked up into the air high-tailin it away.