Horse Mavericks

The water of the Oakdale Irrigation Ditch slid down the concrete canal past a large oak tree reaching tall under the burning sun.  Noel West stood in the tree’s shade.  The tails of his plaid, button-up shirt hung loosely around the waist of his over-sized Levis. Lanny West, a man of 10 years, held the lead of a gelding and glowered at his father.  Lanny knew what needed to be done to fix the horse’s problem, but his dad wasn’t listening. 

Noel hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.  “Now boy.  Have you ever heard of those tumblebugs?” 

Lanny tightened his grip on the lead rope and huffed.  “No.”

“Back there in Oklahoma there are these tumblebugs.”  Noel kicked a rock with the toe of his brogan shoes.  “They roll manure into itty-bitty balls and put them in a hole to save them for the winter to eat on.” He looked at his son.  “Do you know what one tumblebug said to the other?”

“No.  What?”  Lanny said.

Noel pushed his old straw hat back with the tip of his finger.  “That one tumblebug said to the other, ‘you roll yours and I’ll roll mine.’”

Lanny looked down at the ground.  The rim of his cowboy hat hid the upturned corners of his mouth.  He chuckled to himself.  That would suite him just fine. 

To see the dung beetle in action check outThe Flight of the Dung Beetle.

What do you think about the tumblebugs?