Everyone has heard the expressions, “stubborn as a mule,” “works like a mule,” and “kicks like a mule.” No one ever hears anyone say, “wise as a mule,” “dependable as a mule,” or “lovable as a mule.” Most people do not realize that mules, along with horses, were the backbone of this country. Most people never have the privilege to know a mule personally.

My husband George developed an infatuation with mules after he retired as a union carpenter. It just happened that Clyde, a 17-hand chestnut draft mule, came our way at that time. Clyde had been an Amish work mule until the age of 13. Amish work mules spend long hours in the fields plowing and pulling wagons. They live together in a shed with a turnout area. They are well cared for, as the Amish depend on them, but they are work animals, not pets.

When the mules are in their prime, they are sold to private owners. Clyde was lucky enough to be purchased by a wonderful family, the Howards, who operate a small horse business in Northern New Jersey and used Clyde as an exhibition mule. Clyde pulled wagons at carnivals and parades and was always the center of attention. He received excellent care, but as it was his whole life, he was one of several exhibition mules and no one’s special pet.

Clyde and Santa. (Courtesy of the author.)

Clyde and Santa. (Courtesy of the author.)

Through our mutual horse connections, we met the Howards when Clyde turned 18 years old and needed to be replaced with a younger mule. Mr. Howard knew how much George appreciated mules and called us with the news that Clyde was for sale. Without hesitation, we drove to their farm in North Jersey to make the purchase.

“He is a little shy around people when he is out in the paddock with the other mules,” Mr. Howard informed us as he was trying to catch Clyde. “You have to corner him or chase him in the barn when you want to catch him.” After a few attempts, Mr. Howard put a halter on Clyde and led him to our horse trailer.

George and Clyde bonded that first night as Clyde settled into his new home. For the first time in his life, Clyde had his own stall and his very own human buddy. George spent long hours in the barn grooming Clyde and giving him treats. Clyde would even stop eating his hay, close his eyes, and lower his head as George stroked him with the brush and massaged his long ears.

Clyde was a magnificent animal who possessed a special wisdom. He knew his job was to work when he wore a harness or a saddle. He knew his job was to protect when danger was present.

Mules and donkeys by nature are protectors, and Clyde was protective of George and his stable mates. Upon hearing any unusual sound, Clyde would stop whatever he was doing and move in the direction of the sound until he was sure there was no danger. At times, this duty even interrupted his meal, but Clyde accepted his role.

One day, as George was using a step ladder to climb into the saddle, the ladder slipped under Clyde’s belly. As Clyde began to walk forward, he accidentally stepped into the ladder and caught his hind foot. I panicked, George panicked, and most horses I know would have panicked, as it could have been a disaster. Clyde, however, calmly turned in circles a few times until he could free his back foot, then walked off like nothing ever happened.

George, Clyde, and Peggy. (Courtesy of the author.)

George, Clyde, and Peggy. (Courtesy of the author.)

Clyde was George’s pride and joy. He always carried his pictures and loved to brag about Clyde’s horse shows and trail rides. A few times the Howards called upon Clyde again when an extra mule was needed for a parade or to drive Santa Claus around the neighborhood. George sat in the wagon with Mr. Howard, just as proud as a peacock.

In all of his duties, Clyde was the one who nurtured and the one who taught the other mules lessons by his example. There was only one thing that Clyde needed to learn, and that was how to be loved.

For more than two years, George and Clyde played “catch me” in the turnout area. Clyde would not let George touch him when he was outside. Clyde would take cookies from George’s hand, but as soon as George would reach up to put a halter on him, Clyde would walk away. He would have to be bribed to come into the barn. As soon as Clyde entered his stall, he would sniff George’s pockets for more cookies and rub his head against George’s shoulder to be brushed.

Finally one day, Clyde allowed George to walk up to him in the field. As George was approaching, Clyde stretched out his head and neck in George’s direction. As George got closer, Clyde took a small step toward him. George stood still for a second and held out a cookie. Clyde took a couple more steps toward George and ate the cookie with his neck stretched out. As George spoke to him, Clyde moved closer and lowered his head so George could put on his halter. George led Clyde back to the barn and Clyde held his head close to George’s shoulder. Clyde began to fully trust George and learned what it means to be loved.

*****

We all have a lesson to learn in this world and at the age of 20, after giving so much of himself, Clyde learned his lesson and his mission was completed. In the early spring of 2011, our beloved Clyde passed to spirit.

My husband grieved and would not go back to the barn. I went alone to do the chores and I could feel Clyde’s presence. I tried explaining this to George, but he didn’t find it comforting. After two months, I realized that all I could do to lift my husband up was to look for another mule. George strongly protested, but our friend Mr. Howard led us to another mule very much like Clyde, but younger and bigger. It took a lot of coaxing to get George to go and see him. We brought the horse trailer and some cash just in case.

Billy John, a 17.2-hand dark brown draft-mule, stretched out his nose to meet George. It was as if he had been waiting there for him. Minutes later, we handed over the cash and put the big mule on our trailer.

Billy John settled into Clyde’s old stall as if he had been there for years. As George was brushing him, he looked at me with tears in his eyes. “Do you think Clyde would mind?” he asked.

I smiled back at him. “I think Clyde was responsible for sending us Billy.”

George looked at me in relief and to my surprise, he responded, “I think so too.”

Billy has all of Clyde’s good work ethnic on the trails, in the shows, and pulling a wagon. But Billy’s personality is all his own. There is no “catch me if you can” in the field or turnout area. Billy walks up to George when he sees George approaching and sniffs his pockets for treats or nuzzles him for a head rub. As a matter of fact, it became difficult for George to clean the turnout or fix the fences, because Billy John was always at his heels wanting attention.

George on Clyde, Peggy on Joey (Courtesy of the author.)

George on Clyde, Peggy on Joey (Courtesy of the author.)

Clyde will never be forgotten and we continued to celebrate his birthday on the first day of summer. On the first birthday after his passing, as we were going out the door to dinner, I noticed the screen on my computer went black and a message appeared saying, “No signal.” I thought this was strange, so I shut the computer off, restarted it, and then left the house.

George and I talked about Clyde over dinner and we both got a little teary-eyed. I informed him that I believed Clyde was still with us. George nodded his head and said, “I know he is.” He paused for a few seconds, took a deep breath and said, “Let’s go home.”

On the way home we said very little, as George was trying to compose himself. I walked in the house ahead of him and noticed a different picture on my computer screen.

“What is this?” I asked, before realizing it was the picture was of Clyde. That picture changed to several more pictures of Clyde. There was no one home to change the pictures on my screen and I know I did not do it.

Yes, we all agreed that day. Clyde still lives!


About the Author

(Courtesy of the author.)
(Courtesy of the author.)

Peggy DeForte Vurgason began teaching horseback riding at the age of 15 and later went on to ride professionally. Today, Peggy competes in Western Dressage and trail riding on her horse, Homerun Joe, and along with her husband George and his mule, Billy John.

Peggy is the author of The American Riding System, a book for elementary equestrian students and teachers, and Long Ears and Short Tales, fiction stories for the Brayer magazine. She is also the author of Hootenanny Spirit, a soon to be published novel about her beloved childhood horse, Hootenanny, and how he has returned to her in Homerun Joe. Peggy and George reside in Newberry, Florida.