I went for a trail ride on my fairly laid-back gelding bareback one day. As we left, the garbage cans at the end of the driveway were all upright. Nothing.
As we were out, a massive truck carrying a bunch of clanging, rocking, knocking porta-potties was driving way too fast down the road. I was certain that I would die that morning. I’m bracing myself for the spook of a lifetime, grabbing mane and growing legs that can majickally wrap around his whole body when it goes barreling past us and… nothing. He looked at it, let out a sigh and walked on.
Then we get back to our driveway and apparently the garbage man had already visited and there were a couple of the garbage cans that had fallen over. Apparently, they had somehow transformed into horse-eating caves that were definitely going to eat him. SNORT SNORT DANCE SNORT SNORT CROW HOP SNORT DANCE!