In spite of my steady, reliable and agreeable demeanor when I find myself wearin what’s called festive holiday antlers or santa claus hats this time of year on the County Island, I ain’t exactly what you’d call a horse full-up with festive cheer. I know this may come as a shock to some of y’all.
As a proper and practical ranch horse, I don’t get it, the festive holiday cheer. What I do get is it seems to make the people happy, and happy people generally means happy, and also well-fed, horses, so that’s a good thing. What I don’t get is the practical purpose of all the day-core, as it’s called, of settin up the twinkle-light deers and the inflatable, flappy santa clauses, and all the bright color lights so the people may see where they’re goin at night with their tiny, poor people-eyes.
Y’know who gets it? Coors and Coors Light. We all got to take our turns wear the hats and the antlers, and the shiny glitter, too, sometimes … but I suspect those boys like it. A lot. Especially Coors Light, on account of all the horse-prancin he’s done in his life. And this year, Coors Light’s been decoratin’ our own palo verde trees inside our own tiny horse-corral with ornamentation — exactly like the people like to do, and hangin his ornaments high in the branches. See?
That one there’s his best one thus far. I’d say it’s even as purty as a real snowflake, and without makin a horse’s nostrils freeze danged near shut like the snowflake-time used to do to me, back in the day. And his hair-flakes are useful, too. Just ask the birds, which has been pullin Coors Light’s snowflakes apart hair by hair to thusly their baby-bird nests with soft white snowflake horse-mane hair. Practical artwork is somethin I can appreciate, a whole lot more than this kinda typical County Island festive — pardon my french – bullshit. There ain’t no point to these shiny tree-balls at all, except to make a horse stop and stare at ‘em.
If Coors Light sets his stubborn Ayrab-horse mind to somethin, he’ll get ‘er done, that’s for sure. He’s been hard at work, hangin his snowflakes so high in most of the trees that the bucket gal can hardly reach ‘em to pull ‘em down, rubbin ‘em into the right round shapes and really puttin his whole, entire neck and back into it. I guess havin an itchy neck helps.
Since people love their festooned festivity so much, you’d think the bucket gal’d show some sincere appreciation for a horse who works so hard to give her such special, home-spun holiday gifts. Saves her the trouble of stringin lights and balls all over the biggest palo verde by the road, after all, havin a horse who’s willin to do the work for her. And it’s good for little critters such as the birds, and even for the rabbits and the pack rats who may find some hair-snow on the ground and put it to proper use warmin up their young ‘uns.
But, nope. Coors Light strings a new one up, she pulls it down if she can reach it, and gives him a real harsh look. Now, in my estimation, if a harsh look’s all he gets, he ain’t doin so bad. It’s a whole lot better than some spurs in your sides, or a chain dragged across your nose when you really had it comin. Or so I been told.
They do this near daily.
He makes a new snowflake, she yanks it down. He makes another new one, she pulls it off the branch, and runs her hands over his mane with a real sorrowful look in her tiny people-eyes, like she’s got no idea what all went into makin those special snowflakes for her at all.
All I know is this: The County Island’s got a lot of special snowflakes, and not only durin the most festive time of year.