We were on our way home from school, and I was just commenting to Brian that after four months I'm finally getting used to the rush-hour traffic. We were waiting to turn left, and Brian was watching cars from that direction; I turned to check the right and sputtered, "Horse!"
"What?" Brian said.
"Horse," I said again. "There's a guy on a--horse coming towards us."
Brian turned to look, and we both stared as a guy in grubby jeans and a t-shirt rode by on a bright white stallion as if it was the most normal thing in the whole world. None of the other drivers seemed to notice. We shook our heads and turned left.
We drove down this street for a few seconds, and then as we made a right, Brian slammed on the brakes. Three men were trying to herd more than fifty goats through the middle of traffic. I've never seen goats with horns like this before--they stuck out to the sides horizontally and twisted like Pillsbury breadsticks. Ibexes, maybe? Who knows. What we do know is that one of the men had a six-foot section of what looked like a wooden fence that he was waving wildly alongside the goats trying to keep them in line. We cautiously edged around the herd, trying to keep at least a horn's-length away from the animals.
Then we turned the corner and were home. Yep, we're still adjusting.
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