ARE MULES AN ENDANGERED SPECIES?

WILLIAM PENN FALLIN
COLUMNIST
Douglas, GA Enterprise
Natchitoches, LA Times
Camden County, GA Courier

ARE MULES AN ENDANGERED SPECIES?

How long since you saw a mule? Have you ever seen one? At one time mules were the most important animals on a farm. They are sure footed, have great stamina and are very strong. For plowing (before the tractor) nothing came close to a mule. They follow a furrow, pull a plow, pull a wagon or almost anything else to which you want to harness them. And they are easily trained —- usually.

Mules are produced by breeding a jackass to a female horse and they arrive with the long ears, slender legs and smaller feet of the jackass and the larger body of the horse.

Most mules are brown but there are reds, blacks and a few grays. The best mules came from Missouri, Tennessee and Kentucky. Mule breeding in those states was a major industry and they were sold throughout the South.

Mules were absolutely necessary for successful farming until the forties and fifties. After WWII gas powered tractors rapidly replaced the mule until its very existence came into question.

I remember when a matched pair of mules from Tennessee or Missouri, were a treasured possession in South Georgia where I grew up.

Mules come in all sizes, based on the sizes of the Jack and the horse. A large draft horse bred to a large Jack will produce a large mule.

We had a large draft horse on our farm and Daddy decided to breed her to a Jack and raise his own mule. Jim resulted from that union and that mule immediately set out to prove that all rumors about mules being kind, gentle and patient were — rumors. Simply put Jim was a terror from the day he came into the world.

At the time we also had an ole mule named Rowdy who was in his twenties, getting old for a mule. We also had a female mule named Stella who was the sweetheart of the stable. Stella was about the gentlest animal anyone could ever hope to see. Both of them hated the rambunctious Jim.

Before he reached his first birthday Daddy had him neutered by the local vet. I remember watching as he lay on the floor of that barn all trussed up in those leather straps. When he let out a scream I had never heard before I remember a chill running up my back. I am convinced Jim decided right then and there to get even with everyone who was even present that day. Hatred burned in his eyes and it never left.

Breaking him to ride proved impossible. My older brother Aubrey tried it but Jim quickly proved that breaking a mule was not as easy as one might think.

Training him to plow was not much easier. He delighted in doing everything wrong. When I was about twelve Aubrey and I were planting corn. Jim and I were leading with the guano distributor while Aubrey and Stella followed with the planter. Jim was supposed to walk the furrow as we deposited the fertilizer.

The guano distributor made a loud knocking sound as it shook the guano from the tank. Jim didn’t like the sound. He became more and more agitated and about 30 minutes later he decided it was time to show me he had had enough. He suddenly broke into a run. I dropped one of the guidelines (ropes) and looped the other around both my hands. I pulled hard, effectively yanking his head to one side. That turned him into a running circle. Around and around we went until the furrows were a royal mess. When he finally ran out of gas I led him to the end of the row, tied him to a fence post with one rope and using the other rope I proceeded to teach that mule a lesson.

I worked him over for about 15 minutes, not actually doing any physical damage but stinging him with every swing. Suddenly I heard a voice, “what are you doing to my mule?” I knew who it was without even looking. Our father didn’t believe you could teach a dumb animal anything with a beating but as I was to quickly learn, that belief didn’t extend to boys.

That mule and I hated each other from that day forward — until Daddy finally sold the farm and we moved into the little farming village. The best thing for me about moving away from that farm was getting away from Jim. He went with the farm. I hope he died happy.