While the Red Hills region is known for restoring and sustaining natural systems and wildlife habitats, its contributions toward maintaining the region’s cultural traditions should not be lost in its other conservation accolades. There are an estimated 130 working mules still in use in the six-county region, and continuing this use of historic livestock and the folkways surrounding them is part of every American’s environmental history.
“If it was up to me, you should not be able to call it a hunting plantation if you didn’t use traditional mule-drawn wagons,” one of the Red Hills mule men told me last fall. “They can go places a four-wheel drive can’t, you’ll see more wildlife, and you’re just gonna get way better thoughts in the woods using mules rather than on a jeep.”
The mule men in Northern Florida and Southern Georgia willing to talk to me about my fascination with the mules were as ornery about being quoted as the mules they hold dear. Most did not want me to quote them directly on their feelings about what may or may not be the end of an era for the region’s hunting plantations. But they were all, one and all, passionate about the beauty, dedication and resilience of the animals they trained, worked and loved.
“They need a handler, the mules do. Handling mules, like training them, is a skill that grows into an art. The ones that can do it are dying off,” the oldest of the mule men who spoke with me confessed, “And of course mules need constant care what with feeding, maintenance and keeping them in shape. That all gets pretty expensive…“
Keeping mules, they know, might not make sense in the twenty-first century. But it makes sense to them. And while every single handler I spoke with wanted to start off by telling me that mules were not necessarily stubborn, they were all stubbornly insistent that sustaining working mules was indeed a spiritual enterprise.
“Mules are a style,” the youngest of the mule men tried to explain to me. “I saw a bumper sticker once that read ‘Plantation Life,’ you know like those ‘Salt Life’ stickers. When I saw that, I thought ‘yeah.’ You either get it or you don’t get it. A lot of the new owners are young, and I’m not sure they get it.”
Besides seeing more wildlife and having a slower paced hunting experience, they were also advocating for a folkway that most people have forgotten about. In their own way, they seemed to be arguing that the mule is something akin to America’s “spirit animal.” More so than the American eagle, or the wild turkey that Benjamin Franklin originally suggested should be our national symbol. “George Washington himself was the first ‘real mule man,’ and he’d tell you same as I am. This country was made by men who weren’t afraid to work hard, and mules,” one preached fiercely. “Mules made our roads, pulled our barges, cleared our forests and farmed our lands. You name it—we wouldn’t be here without mules.”
He has a point. And Charles III, the King of Spain, did in fact gift the new president with an Andalusian ass, a Spanish donkey, that were usually not allowed to ever leave Spain. While there were donkeys in the colonies, “Royal Gift” was the first of this Spanish breed in British North America. And George Washington probably was the first to breed and sell high quality mules in the United States. Their dogged assistance through every military engagement on American soil is also why West Point officially adopted the mule as their mascot in 1899, and why the Army is still relying on mules in Afghanistan today. They are an integral part of our industrious national history, our manifest destiny and our military successes.
You somehow sense it, watching mules work, even though we as a nation are by and large generations removed from the family farm. Does the mule’s mystique still enchant us because humans created mules, or is it because mules helped create our world?
The undeniable romance that one inevitably develops around mules is hard to define because it doesn’t necessarily make sense. At least not at first. Maybe it’s because they aren’t as sexy as horses, or as cute as donkeys. Or maybe it’s because urban folks don’t know very much about these authentic characters that have been unkindly and erroneously maligned for centuries. But spend any length of time around a mule, or learning about their uncanny strengths and tremendous contributions, and their certain kind of long-eared allure is hard to shake off. Trust me. Or better yet, Charles Darwin, who marveled, “The mule always appears to me a most surprising animal. That a hybrid should possess more reason, memory, obstinacy, social affection, powers of muscular endurance and length of life than either of its parents, seems to indicate that art has outdone nature.”
The Mule was the First Artificial Intelligence
A mule is a man-made hybrid usually created by a male donkey and female horse. Occasionally, a “hinny” can be created by a female donkey and a male horse, but they are not as common.
Thanks to The Red Pony, The Black Stallion and “Little Blackie” in True Grit, even if you’ve never ridden a horse you probably know something about the loyalty of a horse and their instinct to serve. Horses are sociable herd animals that have been so thoroughly domesticated and bred to serve, all they usually want to do is please us. While “Little Blackie” in True Grit ran himself into the ground for young Mattie and died getting her to the doctor in time, a mule would never do that. A mule is half donkey and doesn’t work or think the same way.
Donkeys are still being used throughout the world, especially in third world nations, but in this country it’s easy to mistakenly assume we don’t really need them anymore. But donkeys still rock—and not just because Eddie Murphy played one of these beloved characters in the Shrek movies. Camels didn’t open up the deserts long before Christ, donkeys did. They were sacred animals buried with pharaohs long before a donkey carried Mary into Bethlehem. And remember that the only two animals in the Bible who ever spoke were the snake and a donkey. When Balaam’s donkey refused to go forward, he was beaten three times. “What have I done unto thee, that thou hast smitten me these three times?” It was a good question because the donkey wasn’t being obstinate, he was being perceptive. He sensed something that Balaam did not, as a very threatening angel later explained to Balaam. In fact the willful prudence of Balaam’s donkey was the only reason he was saved from death by the angel’s sword.
The donkey’s behavior stems from the fact that even though they look like horses and zebras, donkeys are not herd animals. Donkeys originated in the wilds of Africa as “free agents” and they think for themselves. Herd mentality is not their thing, but protecting herds from predators—especially canines like wolves, coyotes and foxes is their specialty. They’re incredibly defensive and go after anything in their territory including Florida panthers and mountain lions, but they are hard-wired to hate any kind of dog.
If you’re driving down a rural road in this country and see a donkey in a pasture with cows, goats or sheep, that donkey isn’t there because he’s cute. The rancher is counting on that donkey to protect the herd and the younger livestock from predators. They can be ruthless. So much so, there’s a reason Andrew Jackson’s opponents called the Democrat a “jackass.” It was not simply a play on his name. Remember that Jackson made a name for himself attacking any and all predators he believed were in his territory. Never mind that the Native Americans Jackson went after were not always predators, or that places like Florida were not yet US territories, his critics were accurate in their assessment because the future president really did carry on exactly like a jackass.
Mules carry many of these traits, which makes them very different from a horse. But they are also very different from a donkey. They get their size from the horse, but pound for pound a mule can pull more weight than a horse. Mules also have more stamina than a horse and boast more patience under the pressure of weights. And while many of the mule men said mules are typically a single person animal—meaning they will typically only bond with their handler and only their handler—they seem a lot more friendly and sociable than donkeys.
Stubborn or Intelligent?
Mules are known for being able to take care of themselves. Back in the pioneer days, when family, town or other farms were a long way away, mules could be left uncared for if adequate food and water were left for them. Horses would eat everything all at once and colic and develop other kinds of illnesses. But mules know how to temper themselves. And they know what they know.
“Stubborn as a mule isn’t a bad thing,” one of the mule men wanted to clarify right off the bat. “Look the word up in the dictionary. Stubborn can mean obstinate, or it can mean persistent. I like persistence. It’s dependable and makes me remember that ole mule can take care of herself. She’s telling me something when she doesn’t want to do it. Because she was bred to work, bred to be in the harness or climbing a tricky mountain side.”
While it is generally thought that donkeys are more intelligent than both horses and mules, all of the mule men I spoke to didn’t waste time candidly clarifying that my asking them if a mule was smarter than a horse was not a valid question. “I’ve known some really dumb horses and some unbelievably smart horses. I’ve known some incredibly sharp mules and a few dense mules,” one told me. “Thing about a mule is you can’t breed their intelligence or heart. They’re all one of a kind. You find a great horse, you can breed him or her. But you can’t find the best of the best in a mule and carry that on because they’re all born sterile. They are all originals.”
“No,” another “mule man” wanted to qualify with a serious shake of the head, “I can’t say that I’ve ever known a stupid horse or a stupid mule. But I have known lots of people that are stupid and don’t know what to do with either one of them.” And then he added a sentiment I heard time and again in different syntaxes, “Your mule is no better than the man handling it. Goes for horses too, but not in the same way.”
But another one of the mule men put my question to me this way, “Depends on what you’re looking for. I’m a family man. I’d run myself into the ground to get my family to the hospital. I’d die trying to save their life. On the other hand, there are days my wife needs me working in the yard for two days, or painting the house, or whatever. She may balk if I stop after seven hours because my back is starting to cramp up. But then she knows I’m also part mule. You want me to keep going another hour or two, or do you want me to be practical and stop when I know I can still deliver for you all day tomorrow?” He chuckled, “Horses and mules both know you need them. They both know what they’re good at. And they’re both smart. It’s just that one is really good about serving, and the other is really good about working.”
“Of Mules and Men”
There were many reasons behind the idea of offering newly freed slaves “forty acres and a mule” after the Civil War. Horses were a luxury. But mules were a necessity for subsistence farming. Especially in the South because mules have thicker skin than horses and can endure the region’s intense sun and long humid seasons. Clay farmers also know that the hooves of a mule are harder than horse hooves and mules are more resistant to disease and insects.
Mules used for pulling wagons are very different from the mules typically used for riding in the mountains. “You don’t want a egg-shaped mule,” one of the mule men explained about the kind of mules needed for pulling the region’s hunting wagons, “you want wide-chested width between the legs. You want mules for riding, you breed with a good-gaited mare. But for a mule that can pull serious weight, you want to start with a big, strong mare to mate with a donkey.”
Long before there were hunting plantations, this kind of reliable mule was indispensable to the Red Hills region’s farmers, loggers, and freighters—not to mention the tobacco industry in Gadsden County that at one time boasted more mules than any other county in Florida. The mules were used to pull long narrow tobacco barges between long rows of shade tobacco grown under cheese cloth where maneuverability was incredibly restricted.
Mules can “pull their own weight.” Literally and figuratively. They get their bulk from the horse and their grit from the donkey. While a team of horses tends to lunge headlong into the lines of a harness (traces), mules have more patience and use their shoulders to thrust into the harness. “In the harness they squat like football players,” a mule man explained, “and launch from their giant back feet before digging their hooves like pistons into the ground until traction and momentum take hold.”
The hooves of a mule, like their even temperaments, also play a huge role in their reliability. While a spooked horse will charge blindly into a fence or tree or whatever is in front of him, mules can utilize their better eyesight and hearing they inherited from the donkey to calmly assess when it is safe to advance, and when it is not. This unflappable composure is essential if you’re riding on a steep mountain path, or pulling valuable freight.
Today, the mules of the Red Hills Region pull hunting wagons through hilly pinewood savannahs laden with braken fern and wiregrass, around ever changing prairie lakes or along black water river swamps. But the remaining 130 mules still working in Northern Florida and Southern Georgia do come at a considerable cost. A team can cost between twelve and eighteen thousand dollars—or even up to twenty thousand dollars for a well-trained, or “settled,” pair. This is not only because training a mule is no easy task, but also because there are fewer and fewer mule men around who know how to get the job done. It’s not simply learning the harness and the commands, in the Red Hills it is also about getting a mule comfortable around hunting dogs. Acclimating them to gunfire is easy when you consider the fact that they are half donkey—and the instinct to attack canines is ingrained in half their make-up. As one of the mule men put it with a grinning nod, “Anything with a long ear don’t like a dog.”
Mules that pull wagons filled with hunters and dogs are also considered Olympic athletes and require a mule handler to “train” them year round to stay in shape—a mule handler that also needs to be compensated for his daily care of the animals and handling them during a hunt.
The Mules of the Red Hills
Mules served as our first tractors and trucks and have been a part of the southern landscape long before the region’s plantations were converted into hunting preserves and managed to sustain both wildlife and natural systems. But where the locals eventually gave up their mules in favor or technology, the plantation owners still embraced them.
The mule-drawn wagons filled with hunters and dogs that are still being used during hunting season stem from a “fashion” these early northerners introduced here to emulate the hunting parties of European aristocrats. Think Downton Abbey, and be grateful that what started as a fashion over a century ago, eventually grew into a regional style.
Not only did these wealthy northerners help restore our southern landscape, they are also helping to sustain a place for both the mule and mule men.
Today the mules of the Red Hill region serve as an iconic symbol of our nation’s historic resilience, as well as a tasteful nod to a simpler and quieter way of enjoying our natural environment. Watching them pulling a wagon is akin to seeing somebody’s dog resting in the shade on the side of an orange-pink clay road, smelling wisteria climbing up an old tobacco barn, or knowing you can’t plant your garden until the pecan trees leaf out. They are a distinctive part of our landscape. And despite their long ears and determined characteristics, mules are both a noble and regal part of our heritage.
Who knows if the mules will eventually be considered old-fashioned or too costly to continue? But for right now, they are here. Thankfully “holding still,” in the northern Florida and southern Georgia Red Hills region.
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Margaret McPherson spent twenty-five years working for environmental agencies and non-profit organizations protecting Florida’s natural and cultural resources. She is now an environmental writer and fine artist at FossilsAndFables.com. While dreaming of asking the “Data” character from Star Trek Next Generation what he would think of mules, she is currently working on a collection of paintings of “The Mules of the Red Hills Region” for Tall Timbers Research Station.