Baxter Black: Cowboy suffers wild ride aboard mule

Rarely do I hear a bad mule story, especially in conversations comparing mules with horses. Mules are held up most often as having common sense, having calmness in a wreck, not having a sense of humor and having sleight of hand (or hoof) tricks.

Hank was wintering some big steers on corn stalks in the corn stalk state of Nebraska. On the day of the great ride, Hank had climbed aboard his big saddle mule, 16 hands tall, ears as big as swinging doors on the refrigerator in the Cornhuskers locker room, and could accelerate from 0 to 60 mph in the time it takes to spell Thayer County Fair.

He named the mule Tom, after a revered football coach. Hank made a pass through the steers. The ground was covered with 3 inches of snow. There was a layer of ice covering the field, but the soil was still soft and moist. A hot wire kept the steers from drifting into the road.

Hank was a former rodeo man and capable with a rope. He spotted a steer that was not lookin’ too good. It needed a shot. All of you who have rode wheat grass pasture realize most set-ups have a trap into which you can drive a sick steer, but if you are like Hank and are a member of the Senior Trippers, there’s a better way.

He roped the steer around the horns and laid the trip. The steer flipped around and flopped to the ground. Hank jumped down and tied the steer’s feet together with a piggin’ string. He reached up to peel the rope off the steer’s horns. Tom spooked.

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