Sure-footed and even-tempered, these equines are a joy to ride.
Nostalgia comes in many different forms for each of us. For some, it may be the soft sweetness of homemade cookies, or the warm, undulating aromas of fresh bread. For others, it may be the scent of a particular perfume or flower, or the opening chords of a classic song.
For me, it’s the smell of horses and everything associated with them, from hay and leather to barns, and, I admit, even manure. I had taken horseback riding lessons from a family up on Rathdrum Mountain when I was in middle school, and those countless hours spent with their horses will remain forever in my heart as some of my most cherished childhood memories. Whether it was trying something new in their indoor arena or exploring the trails spider-webbed throughout their 10 acres of forested land, I fell in love with it all.
Over a decade later, though I’ve maybe ridden a handful of times since then, the deep connection and love remain. It was due in part to these sentiments that I found myself headed back to Rathdrum one sunny August morning to meet a couple named Muriel and Bob and their mules Wesley and Slippers. Hungry to reconnect with the equine world, I was curious how similar riding mules would be to my memories of horses.
As I stepped out of my vehicle, I was greeted by the rich smells of ranch life and the embracing silence of trees. I heard one of the mules snort, and felt a smile begin in my heart and work its way up to my face. This was familiar; this was the world I’d been missing.
After introductions with Muriel and Bob, I met Wesley and Slippers, the stars of the day. While I could easily tell Slippers was a mule, primarily due to how the size of her head compared to that of her body, I was surprised how horse-like Wesley was in his stature. Muriel explained that the reason for this had to do with the dominance of their donkey and horse genes. Because mules are the sterile offspring of a male donkey and a female horse, some will carry more donkey characteristics, and others, more horse.
I offered my hand to Slippers, raised as if in greeting, so she could smell me and get a sense for who this strange person was.
Her almost comically-large ears twitched forward, listening to my voice as I cautiously reached out to stroke her velvet muzzle.
I was the focus of her attention for perhaps half a minute before she decided I was all right and went back to snuffling around for something to nibble. Her larger head and ears aside, I also noticed her mane was kept buzzed and her legs were proportionately shorter than horses’ legs.
Story continues after a quick message from our sponsor below.
While we discussed where we would ride, my eyes skimmed over the mules’ bridles and saddles, recalling names and functions of the various straps and buckles. Passing behind the mules, I instinctively either grazed my fingers over their rump so they were aware of my presence, or gave them a wide enough girth that I wasn’t in kicking range if they got spooked.
We figured out a game plan for the morning, which meant it was finally time to mount and start riding. Muriel held Slippers’ reigns for me as I put my left boot in the stirrup and swung myself up into the saddle. I was encouraged up to that point by how easily all the nuances of being around equines was coming back to me. When Muriel left Slippers and me to go mount Wesley, however, I felt suddenly unsure how to comfortably hold the reigns, a fact I knew would not be lost on Slippers. Many horses will subtly test riders they’re unfamiliar with to see what they can get away with, and I wondered how true the stereotype was of mules being more stubborn and headstrong. As we plodded down the road, Muriel coached me a bit on posture, how to hold my hands and when to use my heels and the reigns for steering. I tried with one hand, and then with two and decided to commit to the latter.
We got onto a trail that led us into some public land behind their property, the trees’ shade cool and refreshing from the sun’s beating heat. I immediately eyed the low-hanging tree branches, wary of any attempts by my steed to drag me under them. Though she didn’t make obnoxious use of the branches to try to unseat me, Slippers would nonchalantly stray from Wesley’s wake to nibble at tall grasses and weeds along the trail’s edge. I then had the task, not as impossible as I’d feared, of tapping her sides with my heels and laying the reigns on her neck to try to bring her back in line.
While we rode along, Muriel educated me on some of the major differences between horses and mules. She said she’d owned horses for years, but since trying mules, didn’t think she would go back. Apparently mules are more sure-footed and even-tempered, and are often preferred for difficult and even dangerous trails, such as the Grand Canyon. They are less likely to get nervous and act out in tight situations, aren’t as intimidated by predators, and their unique build and hardworking mentalities lend them more to work than horses. It seemed to me that overall what they lack in speed and elegance, mules make up for in personality and reliability.
There was little awareness of time’s passage as we followed the meandering trail. Muriel and I conversed casually and with ease, and I felt like Slippers and I were syncing up more and more as my confidence in the saddle increased and we gained respect for each other.
Once we’d settled into a rhythm, I was greatly humored by how her large ears rolled and bobbed with her pace, a mule trait Muriel said indicated she was pleased. There was something incredibly endearing and almost self-accepting in Slippers’ demeanor; something about her and Wesley’s mulish quirks that helped me understand why so many people favored them.
The trail brought us to a clearing, the trees giving way to a sun-infused view of mountains and sky. Muriel pointed out a sparsely-treed hill up to our right. We let the mules break into a trot, which was still as bouncy and difficult to sit as I recalled, and reached the hill’s summit to take in the beautifully serene panorama more fully. After our hilltop break, I found myself lulled into contentment as we rode by the fl ow of Slippers’ gait, by the pleasant company, and by the overall good-naturedness of the day.
I just loved the sensation of traveling horseback, or, in this case, by mule. Riding through the forest always had a way of touching my heart with a brush of wildness, luring my mind away into imagination, to daring adventures of the Wild West and medieval fantasy worlds.
We finished our day with a loop around the backside of Muriel and Bob’s property before letting Wesley and Slippers retire for the day. Muriel and I removed their sweaty tack and brushed them before releasing them in their pen. Within seconds, they were both excitedly rolling in the dirt. Joy is expressed differently for everyone, I suppose.
I thanked Muriel and Bob profusely for sharing their time, expertise and love for mules. Not only was I able to indulge my longing to ride again, but I drove away that day with a newfound appreciation for mules and their versatility. I was able to delve back into a passion from my childhood and add to those special memories with some new equine friends. N
By Abby Owens
Photography By Joel Riner