Horses are cowards

Rocco trying to convince us that horses are cowards.

Rocco, wearing a white Stetson, his thumbs hooked in his Wrangler’s just above a belt buckle the size of a small salad plate that reads ROCCO COWBOY U, sits atop his appaloosa taking a long, hard look at us faux cowboys before giving us a little speech.

“This is an unpredictable 1,200-pound animal that can accelerate 50 miles per hour in a few strides,” he says, slapping at the flank of Viejo Vaquero. “Anytime you think you know what this horse is thinking or what he’s going to do, you’re making a mistake. I ride this horse every day and he still surprises me. Do not—I repeat—do not take a horse for granted.”

Part of my problem with horses has always been that I think they’re a lot more fearless than I am. Which Rocco assures me simply isn’t true.

“This animal is an absolute coward,” he says. Which is what makes them dangerous. “Horses have no canine teeth, no claws. So when they feel they’re in danger, they turn 180 degrees and run as fast as they can in the opposite direction. That’s because they’re used to being in a herd and if there’s danger, the slowest one gets caught and eaten.”

So what Rocco is telling me is that when that paint up in Telluride threw me over the fence or that Mexican pony tossed me into the surf, it’s because they were afraid of me. Not the other way around.

Well I’ll be damned.