My father had some mules, no horses. In the’ mornin’ he’d curry those mules and then take a great big brush and brush’em good. He did that at least once a day.
Th’mules used th’pasture too when they weren’t working, but not as much as the cows. We had t’feed them at least twice a day heavy, because they worked so hard. My father grew wheat and oats for the mules. And sometimes he’d feed that straw to the mules. If they wouldn’t eat it too well, my father would make a little salt water to sprinkle over that dry straw, and they would like that.
One thing that stands out in my mind—mules had what they used to call colic. It was from over-eating or something, and they would get sick and the veterinarian or some of the older men that knew how to do it would make up a medicine and put it in a long-necked quart bottle, and one person would hold th’mule and th’other would put that bottle in his mouth, till he drank all that medicine. It would look like it was doing’em so bad, but it wasn’t—it was for their good.
—Foxfire 3
I loved to hear Pap tell stories about the various mules his family had when he was a boy.
Today’s Thankful November giveaway is a used copy of the book Foxfire 3 . Leave a comment on this post to be entered. *Giveaway ends November 14, 2023.
Last night’s video: The Flowers Family 3 – Old Family Photos, Having 1 Pair of Shoes, Working for Cents an Hour.
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Oh, no! Mules with colic! I caused a mule to die of colic once. When I was a very new bride, I was home making sauerkraut. I took the cabbage leavings and fed them to our mule. A whole dishpan full! I didn’t know it would cause colic in the mule nor did I know he would eat it all! After hours of walking the mule and the vet coming out, he died. It was a great financial loss to us and also the loss of a sweet animal. Not a very good memory to share I’m afraid but maybe a lesson.
My Mama was born in 1929 and married my Daddy at age 18. She said that all they had was love and two of the meanest Mules she’d ever seen. She said if they didn’t want to move a muscle, they didn’t. She also said it’s a wonder they didn’t starve to death the first few years the were marred until they could afford 2 horses. Happy Thanksgiving to you all.
Susan W Brown
My Daddy told many stories of him and their mules. He and his brothers all stayed in trouble from the mischief the and the old mule could get into.
My grandfather grew up in rural Ireland and must have been good with farm animals, because in WWI he drove a mule wagon in France. The odds weren’t high for it, but a photo of him with his wagon and mule was included in a history book on his military unit. After the war, he became a police officer and “walked the beat”. Times are so different.
Born in 1928 in a primitive two room cabin, probably with a dirt floor, Daddy grew up on a farm in the foothills of the Appalachians in NW Georgia. He told me the story how he would plow with the mule as a boy and Granddaddy would warn him in the hot summer months “don’t you kill that mule!” I imagine a mule was very valuable to a sustenance farmer back then. I don’t know if that’s the same mule that bucked Daddy off when he rode it to fetch the mail at the box, a mile from the house. He broke his ribs and always talked about how painful that was. Thank you, Tipper, for taking us back to simpler times! God bless your family this Thanksgiving! Vicki Davis, NW Georgia
I can’t hear the word mule without thinking of Raymond Fairchild pickin”whoa mule”. I bet I heard him play that a thousand times growing up. Wish I could hear him one more. Funny thing is, they always played it as an instrumental so I never knew it had lyrics until I was watching Andy Griffith reruns one day and he sang it.
Enjoyed!
Grandpa Nix owned a big mule named Kate. We have a picture of Grandpa holding the bridle of Kate and me sitting way up on Kate’s back. I was just a little kid and I felt like I was sitting on top of the world! Grandpa was so good to me and I loved him very much. Little moments like that make the sweetest memories. I am smiling right now just thinking about that day in time from over 70 years ago.
I am enjoying the 9 Brides book you are reading! Also all your videos are so welcomed with the Flowers family. I have my TV playing a fireplace crackling & soft music & watching y’all on my Kindle. (Not many houses in Florida have fireplaces.) So I pretend I am back home in the East Tenn. mountains. lol
We never did have mules but We did have one of the smartest horses ever. Her name was ole Nell. She was good one. She pull such heavy logs. She worked very hard. She pulled wood and lots of it.That was for the wood stove and our kitchen stove. She plowed . She worked as hard as we did. My first cousin had a mule and his name was ole Pete. I can picture him today in my mine. They had to work with horses and mules back then. No tractor.
I have no experience with mules. Some may say that I am stubborn as a mule!
Hi Miss Tipper. This story reminds me of two things. First, my Grandma Ruby, daddy’s momma. When I was 5 my Grandpa passed away. Grandma and my Uncle came to live with us. My uncle was only about 7 years older than me. Due to lack of space, Grandma slept with me. We were a family of about 6 at that time. Now we were 8. Well she’d get up and almost every morning, she’d tell everyone in the house, that child kicks like an old mule. Of course everybody got a big laugh, with one exception, me. I wish she was here now to tell anyone she’d want, that hilarious (now) story. Second, When my husband and I first married we were stationed in Biloxi Mississippi. In the USAF, at Keesler AFB. After hurricane Camille, 1969, we had to rent off base. We lived in downtown Biloxi for a short while. Our landlords we had was an older gentleman and his wife. We were without electric for awhile after that nasty storm. The gentleman had two young married’s living in his very small apartments, we were one of them. Well to get to the point about the mules, in the evenings we’d all sit outdoors on the lawn chairs or whatever was available, Mr. Ladner would sit and tell us stories of his life. He was fascinating to all us youngsters. One story he told was about running moonshine as a young man and another was when he’d herd “Missouri mules”down south, to sell. I don’t think his sales were for him, but that was his jobs at the time. He was so unique to us young people, and quite a character. I will always remember the mules. Like them we were from Missouri to. Sorry this was so long. God bless y’all. Jen
Regarding your video last night; We got a new pair of shoes for school each year and used last year’s for work once cold weather began. We were barefooted about as much as we were shoed.
The first job I remember getting paid for earned me 20 cents per hour. Ten hour days for 2 dollars. The last position I had my wife and I worked together and averaged less than ten dollars an hour each but the enjoyment of the time and ministry were worth more to us both. We still do a lot of the same things with no salary. If you enjoy the task it’s not work.
I’ve worked with mules, horses and oxen. All the other farmers around us had tractors. After I left home Dad sold the horses and bought a tractor. I said he worked me like a mule and waited to buy the tractor just to get me to leave. As best I remember the oxen were very gentle and slow but didn’t pull as heavy a load as mules and horses. The mules were sometimes temperamental and difficult to work with. I don’t recall ever having a problem working with horses. I would enjoy having one now and a small garden to work in.
I don’t always comment even though every post is interesting and invokes memories. I’m posting every day now because these are all great gifts,
I have a friend who has always kept 2 mules. He kept 2 so they wouldn’t be lonesome. Bob loved his mules. For years he’d take them camping in the Sierras. They didn’t have to work because just having them made him happy. Finally he just had Rosie. When she died last year it about broke his heart. He said he wouldn’t ever have any more mules because he was 85 and just couldn’t train any more. Lovely man.
I was raised my wonderful grand parents and a maiden aunt. Our older white mule. Nell was mellow but our younger dark one, Beck, could be high strung. They felt like family members. Her chin was always soft like velvet as Nell lowered her head to let me pet her. She was so tall. I sort of wanted to ride her but never tried
When I was a child my dad had two mules that my older brothers plowed.
The mules’ names were Tobe and Alec.
When I was a kid (in the ’40s and ’50s) mules were still fairly common. Some were even kept in town. It wasn’t too often, but mules pulling wagons were not too uncommon on Raleigh’s streets. A black man who worked at the same print shop as my Pa kept a mule. Pa would hire him to plow the garden in spring time and whenever he needed something hauled. Pa didn’t drive and didn’t own a vehicle.
Both of my parents grew up on tobacco farms. I have a vague memory of my dad talking about having a working mule on their farm. Mostly, I’ve just heard someone tell another person “don’t be so mule-headed” : ) which reminds me of reading this, Psalm 32:9 (KJV) “Be ye not as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding: whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.” The ESV reads this way, Psalm 32:9 “Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle, or it will not stay near you.”
Oh, why didn’t I save my Firefox books? When they first appeared, they were so trendy to specific audiences, especially on college campuses. I have few regrets in life, but getting rid of books is one of them. I wish I had everyone I ever read, including as a child. I realize now what incredible and great friends/teachers they were.
I’ve found a few old favorites on eBay. Some were as good as I remember. Some, well, not so much.
Grandpa had two mules, Kate and Jack. I remember Daddy plowing with them in the long bottom field where it took a day to pick the cotton off one row. My brother was walking along behind when a neighbor dog snuck up and bit him on his rear end. Grandpa brought him home in his truck and he was standing on the seat looking pitiful. Turned around to show us and said, “I bin dog bit”. The mules were used to plow our garden and one mule’s hoof and part of his leg went down into the hole where an old well had been. They filled it with old cross ties but over the years they must have rotted and began to sink in. This is one of my childhood horrors and adulthood too as I had a child wanting to run around and play. My brother lives there now and I still dread to think of the old well. I don’t know what happened to Kate and Jack. I remember Grandpa having a tractor so maybe they were sold.
What a joy and uplifting of spirits it is when I read your sharing in my e mails! I look forward to it every day. My late husband used to love the Fox Fire books many years ago when we discovered them. I did as well. Sometimes I find I wish I lived back then so I could experience what previous generations experienced way back when. Maybe just a week or so because I do love modern conveniences, ha ha. I saw your video last night and was thrilled Granny is doing so well!! I pray it continues.
I don’t hear much about mules; I live near cows. I liked how the author’s family took great care of their hardworking mules. 🙂
sometimes I think it would be so nice to live back in the simpler days, then I think about all the work they had to do without our modern conveniences…maybe not.
but it’s nice to think about it.
Daddy used to talk about plowing with mules and how hard the mules would work. One of them was named Bessie. Seems like there was one named Kate also. Kate must a been a mighty popular name back then. I remember that he kept the mule plows all those years later. I think it was for sentimental reasons and to remind him of all the hard work he had done.
Mules are quite intelligent, I saw one kill a mountain lion, the mule was very gentle but ferocious when it came to the lion, the lion didn’t stand a chance with that mule.
Blessings to all
I really enjoyed your interview with the Flowers Family. What a lovely family!
My in-laws in Texas get to feed a mule and how sweet she is. Her name is Daisy. She hangs out with the goats and how fun it is to feed them all.
Tipper, I have to comment on your hard-working life. I thought of this last night while watching one of the videos on YouTube. It made me wonder how you get it all done what with the Blind Pig & the Acorn, approving all our comments, filming the videos, keeping up with the cookbook, keeping care of your beautiful family, Taking Granny to appointments, gardening work, seed saving, the list goes on and on. I would like to know how much sleep you actually get because it seems like you don’t have enough hours in your day to get it all done!??? God bless you <3
Theresa-I do sleep 🙂 I couldn’t make it without sleep! Thank you!
When I was little, we had a beautiful, big Mule named “Doc”.
Oh, how I loved him, Daddy plowed the fields and garden with Ole Doc, he was the best and
so loved my Daddy.
Doc was my best friend growing up, I used to curry and comb him, he would let me pick up his feet,
he loved me too. Daddy always cautioned me, “don’t you get behind him, he might kick you”, but Doc
never did. I was delighted when Daddy let me ride him when we would be going to the field to plow.
“Wonderful Memories of my best friend, Doc”.
I am fascinated by mules and donkeys , they have such interesting personalities. The Foxfire books are so awesome!
Two quick Salem mule stories, one from my recollection and one passed down from my mother. My great uncle’s mule was repossesed. Great Uncle Dosier “Dode” Smith got sick (and later died) and his mule was picked up and returned to the seller in Walhalla. Obviously, the old man had bought his mule either “on time” or on good faith until his cotton crop was sold. I might have told this one before, but my mother was sent to the mill with a turn of corn to be ground for meal. Her mule balked because of a missing board in the bridge over Little River. The critter refused to step over the crack. She went back home and turned her chore over to one of her brothers, who was somehow successful.
I never had a mule but appreciate their smaller size. We kept Belgians to drag bolts out of the woods. They were strong and agreeable horses who loved to pull, and an easy critter to keep minus their large appetites and need for a lot of water. Seems that a mule would be an easier farm helper to maintain. I do know that out West, mules are regularly used in rocky terrains due to their sure-footedness.
Thankful for all the memories!
The story about Kate is heartbreaking.
We have pictures of my mother and her parents with a pair of mules they owned. The mules tower over all three of them. Don’t remember if mom told me their names.
I love to hear all of Pap’s stories, my grandfather used a mule too to plow his garden spots. His mule’s name was Millie. I used to go to the fence and feed Millie carrots and apples. she loved the apples more than the carrots, but if I gave her the carrots first she would eat them down quickly. Her mouth was so big and had so much saliva, I was scared for my hands to get too close to her mouth, but she was very gentle and never bit me! O:-)
Colic…here in FL, some extended family had some horses but apparently didn’t supplement much. They’d graze too close, pick up the sand. They had to call out the vet & came close to losing one. Sand Colic.
Enjoyed hearing many mules were named Kate, too. (Guessing I am on stubborn side.)
My sister, brother, and me were mules once. We pulled the plow while mom held it steady. It’s hard work.
I would love to read this book! Prayers for all. Take care and God bless ❣️
Love the Foxfire books. Mine got misplaced somewhere in the ’80’s. Have always wanted to replace them!
I’ve always heard that a horse will work itself to death, but a mule knows when to stop.
I love the Foxfire books. I used to read them and dream about living on a farm in the mountains but for me it was just that-a dream.
I think that condition is called being “ foundered” spelling?. Poor mules
Great story. I can imagine it would have been very hard to get by back then without mules.
Dad had horses but sometimes he would trade for a mule and the horse and the mule worked together, first time I remember having one of each I didn’t think they would work together but I was just a dumb kid and didn’t have a clue they would.
I’ve never owned a mule, but have had my share of horses. My favorite one was colicky, spent lots of time with her to keep her from rolling and twisting her gut. My father used his horses for skiding timber. My brother had a mule that would find his way under the pole rails of his corral, always looking for that greener pasture. Fond days, good memories.
When I was growing up, we had a man, James Ellis, who would plow our large garden area. He would let me handle the reins on occasion….”Get up mule!” I can still remember him hollering and working that mule…Mr. Ellis told me that once he had been bitten by a copperhead when he was out with his mule. He had taken him home, tended to him by taking the harness off to be disconnected from the 2 large wheeled cart and got him settled into the barn before Mr. Ellis went to tend to his own snakebite…A man has to set his priorities…
A good mule or a matched pair were a valuable commodity in the 40’s and 50’s; and still are today in lots of areas. Farming was certainly more hands on in those days due to the lack of mechanization. There was a stoic but dependable demeanor about a good mule. We had several; some used as singles and some used as a pair. A lot of pride was taken in the ownership of good mules. Most of our farm activities from plowing, planting, tilling, hauling, and garden work relied on miles. Ion our family, those mules may have gotten more care and attention than us kids; our very livelihood was dependent on those mules.
Terry,
I agree with you! My daddy was warned by Granddaddy, “don’t you kill that mule!” when plowing the creek bottoms during hot Georgia summers! Hard work indeed for a young boy, who carried on his work ethic with the RR in Atlanta. He provided well for us and told me on his death bed at 80, that he worked hard because he loved to work. So thankful for my heritage.
When I was very young my father used horses but in later years he had two different pairs of mules at two different times. His last mule died right before my father passed away at the age of 86. He cried when “old Myrtie” died.
My dad’s horse, Tony, drank RC cola…loved it…
I always enjoy your blog posts. Thank you.
I grew up near a farm that had a huge long barn with many small windows along each side. Turns out the owner had raised mules for service in the Army during World War I and that had been the mule barn.
Our property used to be part of a very large dairy farm before it was subdivided. While excavating for our house and barn, we found, judging from its size, a rusted mule shoe. We mounted it among the rock on the barn.
John said he thought a mule was better than a horse, I remember hearing it said that a mule wouldn’t hurt you as quick as a horse, meaning they are not as skittish as a horse. It went on to say it was not because a mule liked you it was because he didn’t want to hurt themselves. My neighbors had a mule named Pet that let children ride her bareback and with no bridle or anything. Sometimes I saw three on her at the same time. The one in front would hold to her mane. One of these children now has around 8 donkeys. Sometimes something will set them off . All of them braying at one time can sure make a racket. I get tickled when this happens. I watch a lot of Gunsmoke, remember Festus and his mule Ruth.
Oh the memories this post brings back. My Grandparents were farmers and when I was a little girl, Papa used a big brown mule named Peg. She was beautiful and so sweet. I used to slip goodies to her every chance I got, half of my sugar biscuit, some of my cookie, a piece of my sandwich, she liked everything. I would brush and comb her til she shined. Papa would let me ride her back to the stable from the field and feed her. I could hardly wait for them to finish for the day. When we barned baccer back then, we used mules and drags to bring in from the field and tie the baccer to sticks to hang in the barns. I so wanted to drive Peg and a drag but I was little and short and Papa kept saying I was too short to see over the drag and I would turn over a load of baccer. I told him I could ride Peg and not have to stand in the drag, but it took convincing from my Grandma to let me try. I did ride Peg and did not turn over a single load! I would haul baccer in until we were done in the field, then stand on a turned over five gallon bucket to the tie the baccer on the sticks. Man, those were the good old days even though they were long and hard days of work. I wish I could do it all over again. Love and prayers to all of you and Granny too. So glad she is tolerating her treatments well.
I know a man who rode a donkey two thousand years ago and I thank him for the much needed rain this morning.
Blessings to all.
My dad had mules. I was terrified of them , God bless you and your family.
It is a wonderful thing to have a memory of days past I think that is why we refer to them as the good old days we remember the good things more I enjoyed last night video the Flowers family seemed to have such a good time with each I look for to celebrating Appalachia with you thank you for providing such educational entertaining and inspiring informative contents
Daddy had one mule but that was before my time. He said it was a blue mule but never explained what that meant. He was using the mule to skid in logs when it fell, rolled down the mountain and broke its neck. He showed me where he buried it.
Years later Daddy’s cousin Ray came to our house to show off a new toy he had purchased. It was a metal detector. They wandered around for a while finding only bits and pieces of scrap metal before Daddy suggested that Ray find his mule. “I buried that mule with his shoes still on. If that thing is worth anything you ought to be able to find it.” Daddy pointed Ray in the general direction and the hunt was on.
Sure enough, after a few hundred sweeps back and forth, that machine started to squeal. Soon after that Ray pointed out four places in the grass where those four shoes would be. Daddy confirmed it. That newfangled contraption had found its mark! Or it’s mule?
I never got to ask Daddy what he meant by “blue mule”. If you or anyone knows, please share your knowledge!
When I was growing up in Alabama, I went to my uncle and aunt’s farm in the country several times. He had a mule in a small corral next to the barn. I would go into the barn to see the mule first thing. My cousin taught me how to put corn on the cob into a machine that took the corn off and feed the mule through the fence.
I was so excited and happy to do this!
I couldn’t hear very well, so I didn’t know the mule’s name. He never bit me, but my cousin was always watchful.
One time me I went there I noticed the mule was very dusty, so we got some curry brushes and went inside the corral and started currying him. The mule enjoyed it and stayed still. Suddenly I decided I wanted to go to the other side of the mule, and I went under him just as my uncle came out on the porch to watch us. That was the last time I was ever allowed on their farm as a child! He drove me straight home and complained to my mother and that was that!
Mules. . .No friends of mine! As a very small girl 5 years old, I was riding a mule behind 2 of my older cousins while visiting their farm. The mule reached back & took a plug out of my bare footed leg & that diminished my fondness for mules!
My grandad had two big mules. As a little girl, I was always scared to go near them. I love your blog and the memories it brings back to me.
My dad grew up with 11 siblings in Stony Point, NC. He was next to the youngest. dad was born in 1926 and he is still with us blessing our lives with tales of his childhood. I love to hear him talk about my Grandpa making sugarcane molasses using a mule. People from all over would bring their cane to be made into that syrupy goodness. No money was ever exchanged, just hard work and part of the molasses! I would love to have the copy of Foxfire.
I too would love to have some mules or horses and definitely a cow! I’d always be kind to my animals because I have kindness toward animals and I love most all of them! Who’d beat a poor mule needs beat plumb near to death! That’s all I have to say today except be kind to animals, most people and forgive others. Your life depends on it. Much love to fellow animal lovers!!!! My grey special needs cat disappeared but I will be watching locked and loaded for what dog whodunit!!!
I love mules, it’s my dream to have one someday!
My grandfather had mules and no horses too because they worked in the fields harder and longer than horses would. He had one mule that was so stubborn though and you could hear him fussin at that mule every day. That stubborn ole mule didn’t know he had met his match with my grandfather though because He was just as mean, as honey and stubborn as that ole mule was!
I have never read the Foxfire books. Heard tell of them. Sounds to be a very good read.
We always had horses on my daddy’s place. He said he didn’t want anything more stubborn then his six kids.
I had a distant relative who plowed his farm with his Clydesdale horses. It was great watching the team work. Back in the 70’s a photographer from National Geographic noticed him working his land with the horses and they did an article on him and the work that was done. For us, that was pretty exciting to know that Estel, our cousin, had this happen to him. His horses were beautiful and he took really good care of them.
Daddy’s family always had mules to farm with and pull their wagon. Daddy and my uncle planted the garden using mules, even after tearing the ground up with the tractor. My role in this was to catch, harness and bring the mule to the house so Daddy could start plowing as soon as he got home from work.
Colic is nasty, mule, donkey or horse.
I had horses growing up but never a mule. I watched your video last evening. When one of the sisters talked about making .25 cents an hour to skim syrup all day, it made me think about my first job. I worked at a little Dairy King making $1.50 an hour. I hope everyone has a blessed day. It’s gonna be a rainy one here.
I enjoy the Foxfire books and have given them as gifts at Christmas time. I so enjoy reading your posts.
I’m really enjoying thankful November.
Love to hear the sounds mules can make…causes a smile as you wonder, what are they thinkin’. My Grandfather, who came from the old Country, had a farm and grew a variety of veggies that fed not only his family but his sister and her husband and family that lived next door and they had a dairy. He brought his knowledge from his home country and melded into the ways of this Country. I do appreciate your doing this series of interviews to let the younger generation see the way children of that era were reared and how they handled every-day stress and persevered. Thanks for this last installment. Prayers for Granny and you guys.
Grandpa never cared much for mules, stubborn like himself I guess. About 1961 we went and looked at a man’s mules on a farm near his, biggest critters I ever did see. He always used horses, when he’d cut their tail hair he would keep for sewing thread and such. Great post.
Thank you
When I was a little girl, a man right down the road from us had a mule. He went all over the area with his mule to plow gardens for everyone—of course for a small fee. I always loved when the mule came to us…I would sit on the grass beside my grandfather’s garden and excitedly watch and then get to pet the mule and give him treats when he was done with our garden plot. OH THE SWEET MEMORIES…!!!!!
I’ve heard mention from my elders that they used not only mules but oxen. Our farm was originally a tobacco farm, but they did plant crops for their animals as well. Today our farm is all corn and soybeans.
Hey Tipper, I enjoyed today’s topic! My grandpa always had a mule. My dad would borrow grandpa’s mule to use for cultivating our crop of bell pepper. I always wish I could have had the opportunity to work the mule, but I was too small at the time. My twin brother and I had the responsibility to hoe the bell pepper.
There is so much wisdom from the older generation who lived in the time they had to find ways around a problem.
By the time I came along my Granddaddy only had one mule named Kate. I didn’t know it then but she was considered to be a small mule. He had pretty much stopped farming except for working a large garden, a corn field large enough to supply feed for his hog, mule and chickens, and a field of watermelons and cantaloupes. Daddy would plow this land with a tractor and then use Kate to cultivate it, it saved a lot of hoeing. As I have said before, I tried to stay in my Granddaddy’s back pocket, I wanted to be with him ever minute I could. I thought I was helping him when he pulled fodder or was cutting the corn stalks for shocks to use for feed. One of my prized possessions is now having the old knife he used for doing this. I keep it in a safe. Before my time and Grandaddy owning Kate, she was used by her previous owners to try to drag logs for sawmills, because of being small, she was unable to do this and they beat her unmerciful. Grandaddy bought her and won her trust back, she would have died for him. One time Daddy tried to drag a light weight cedar post I had cut with an axe to use for putting up a basketball goal, something was wrong with the tractor. Kate went crazy and broke loose from him and ran all the way back to her barn stall, it made Daddy mad, when we got to barn, Kate was trembling, she remembered how she had been beat. Daddy really got mad then, but not at Kate. He told me, anyone that would beat an animal that bad ought to be beat the same way. He would have been happy to do it if he could have got his hands on these men. I could tell many stories of me, Grandaddy and Kate. I now own the mule plows, and Coleman planters we used with Kate.
Awwww, sweet Kate…..I agree with your Grandaddy, they needed to be beat too.
I love mules, this was so sad. I’m so glad your Grandaddy bought Kate and she had a better life with him and your family.
I’ve always liked horses, mules, and donkeys. We own a donkey now that’s a big pet, he’s like an alarm clock at feeding time. If we’re a few minutes late he will sure let us know.
Our parents were raised with mules and so was my husband’s mother. Seems like everyone had a mule named Kate. I love to think back on the way things used to be. Simple! Thanks for sharing. Prayers for all y’all! Blessings for a beautiful day!
My grandpa owned and worked with mules. I have a picture of him driving a team pulling a thrasher. Daddy and his younger brother had to ride the mules to keep them at a steady pace. The picture is a treasured piece of family history.
Carolyn
My dad, who was born in 1916, worked as a farm hand in Northern Indiana as well as the CCC during the depression years. He left school to work to support his parents and younger siblings. On the farm he worked with mules and always said that it was no lie that mules were stubborn. He was a great dad and I miss him.
My dream is to own a mule and just enough land to raise it on.
I have no hands on knowledge, but I think mules are better than horses.
Peace,
John Hart
Columbia, SC