Ornery Mules

Brad Hunt called on the phone to say he needed me to help him. He had taken a fencing contract across some of the high ridges and knolls out beyond the Enterprise reservoir. He wanted me to use my mules to pack the steel posts up along the fence line where they couldn't get a pickup truck to. He said he needed me real bad and he figured it could be done in about 4 days. I had plenty to do but when someone is in dire need I try to give them a hand, especially if they are my nephews. He said he would haul me and the mules up to the camp he had set up, feed us while on the job and take us home when we got done, so I told him to come get me.

His camp was a huge army surplus tent set up by some oak trees of pretty good size. A little spring was near by. Another young feller about his age by the name of Gardner was helping him. Gardner was married to one of Clarence Bundy's daughters and she was on the job as cook. It doesn't seem like Brad's wife was there. Brad had a specially designed pack saddle that he had borrowed to carry the steel posts. I had to ride out 3 or 4 miles to where the pile of steel posts was stacked.

There was not much to tie a snakey mule to while a feller put on clanky steel post, just stubby scrub oak that was big enough to hold him if tied at ground level. So I anchored Snuffy the best I could, put on a pair of hobbles, and blindfolded him, then proceeded to tie a couple of bundles on each side. He didn't like what was going on but there was not much he could do, being trussed up like he was. The posts lay horizontal on each side, protruding forward along his neck and I could see that they would snag the brush as we went through, also interfere with the turning of his neck. In the event that he decided to stampede, those protruding posts would be formidable battering rams to a rider out in front and could cause much havoc. Well, I'll try it this time, change the setup next load.

I gets of Tigger over close by, takes the hobbles off Snuffy's front legs, unties the lead rope from the bottom of the oak, step up onto Tigger, dally the lead rope around the saddle horn, then pull off the blinds. When Snuffy sees what's tied on his back he bogs his head and tries to shed himself of such, but I had tied them on to stay. I yank him around some and we head up the trail with me keeping a leery eye on that battering ram.

On these high oak covered ridges, all the growth was stunted. When we got to the first place to drop posts I look around for a likely place to tie him to then eased off of the saddle and hitch him quick before he gets notions in his head. Snuffy is an ornery injun mule and had come from the Navajo reservation when he was 5 or 6 years old and was not kindly disposed toward palefaces who tied contraptions on his back. He took every opportunity available to yank loose, stampede, or raise a ruckus in any possible way, so a feller had to do his best to stay in control I put the blindfold in place and took off the posts, then we returned for another load.

This time I angled the posts up above his neck and down toward his hocks, tying them securely. A couple of half hitches with the lead rope anchors him to the saddle horn. I then pulled off the blinds, hoping maybe he will behave this time, but no, as soon as he gets his vision he caves and flaunches. The hobbles are still on but that didn't slow him down. he crashes into Tigger, yanking on the lead rope. Ol' Tigger must have thought it looked fun so he began to jump up and down too. In the milieu and ruckus I lost hold of the bridle reins. The two of them went jumping down over a bank into a patch of scrub oak 5 or 6 feet high. The lead rope that was tied to the saddle horn yanked Tigger down and Snuffy piled up along side.

All was quiet for a little bit and I couldn't see hide nor hair of either of them. Then appeared two sets of long ears above the brush, pointing up toward me. They had untangled themselves sufficient to get up. I led Tigger out with Snuffy in tow and we took another load up the ridge. Brad was there when I packed up the next load. I went through the same procedure only now I was in the saddle when the blinds came off. Snuffy made a run against the lead rope. I jabbed the spurs to Tigger to get him moving but instead, he began to crow-hop. I was right busy there for a little while trying to keep the lead rope dallied, stay on top, and line those contrary jumping mules up the trail. Brad was laughing and hollering, thinking this was great entertainment. Finally they lined out and we went up the hill.

At the place I needed to drop this load there was not any scrub oak of any size at all suitable to tie Snuffy to. I finally spotted one a little way back of some smaller brush that I thought would do. But just as I was putting the rope around it, he whirled and stampeded down off the ridge and up over an open pass between two high knolls. He was kicking and bucking as he went along. I jumped on Tigger and was not far behind. He ran up through an open grassy cove, surrounded by heavy oak brush. The brush snagged the steel posts, making progress difficult, so he came back out into the open where I roped him with an extra tie rope I had. One of the steel posts had slid down and was about to drag on the ground near his left hind foot. As we headed back up the hill he began to kick at this post and each time he did, some more hair and hide came off. My mood was such at that point in time that I wasn't going to readjust anything to save some of his contrary hide.

By the time we got halfway back up the ridge he had cut an artery on the outside of his left ankle and was bleeding profusely. So I unpacked him, taking off the pack saddle. It was sun down so I left everything there on the side of the ridge. It looked like he had bled 5 gallons and he was still bleeding. I thought it wouldn't be long till he'd be dead. Serves you right, too, you contrary, long eared canary. It was about 1 1/2 miles down to an old roadway that I followed back to camp. I told Brad what happened so we decided that tomorrow I would ride a long legged bay horse of his and pack Tigger with the steel posts.

The grub wasn't very good. The cook was not overly energetic and the food supply was limited, but I did find some cold biscuits and taters. next morning was not much better and I was riding out along the old road before sun up astride the old bay horse and leading Tigger. What do you know! ! there in the bend of the road stood Snuffy, still alive but gingerly packing a hind foot. That day we spread out a lot of steel posts. It sure was nice to use a gentle dependable animal that was willing to do his work. Snuffy just ran loose for the next couple days. By the time I had finished packing out the posts his foot was healing nicely. We had no more bad experiences except that Brad hauled us home on a Sunday. When we settled up he thought $60.00 was about what me and my mules were worth, and perhaps it was.