"When you got up on your ear and called me names, and said I had brought you eleven miles to look at a sapling, didn't I explain to you that all the whale-ships in the North Seas had been wooding off of it for more than twenty-seven years?"
1890, Samuel R Brown, May-day dreams, Passion flowers, Poetic flights and prosy thoughts, book 3, p. 86 (Google preview):
[H]e has been wronged, so he gets up on his ear, and he kicks like a two-year-old bay steer.
I know a salesman of this sort who will never make his mark, who flares up, "gets up on his ear," as they say, when ever his sensitive, sore spots are touched.