Tennessee Mule

[inyati13]

When I was 10, dad and I went to see a friend of his who was a horse trader. Just like people today sell used cars, when I was a boy there were guys who made their living buying and selling livestock. Jim Bondfield was one such man. Everyone said he was a big swed. He was actually a wino. He had a big belly and a red face. He wore a big straw hat with a sunshade in the front rim.

When we pulled up to his barn, Jim and a guy lookin to buy a mule was talkin.
Jim: Hi Bob. You got your help with you?

Dad: He$$ Jim, that boy is too lazy to work. All he wants to do is shoot a dam gun.

Jim: Bob would you get the gray mule and hook her to the 5 shovel cultivator plow.

When we went to Bondfields, he always had us working. My brother and I would move his cows or do other chores. When it would come time to leave, Jim would say, "Bob let me give each of these boys a quarter." Dad would say, "He$$ no. Those boys didn't do a dam thing. You don't owe them a penny." My brother and I would always go home unpaid. Henry finally quit going. I only went because I was tired of being on the farm.

Dad got the mule hooked to the 5 shovel plow with a single tree. Brought the checklines back to the guy and said, take her down the row. The man clicked his cheek twice and slapped her back with a checkline. The mule seemed confused. He got her a quarter way down the row and the mule started cutting through the field breakin off terbacker plants. Jim was hollering whoa her dam it, whoa her. The guy dropped the handles of the plow and the mule came running back to us. Dad grabbed the mule and pulled her up at the end of the field. We all went over and the guy was complaining that the mule was no good.

Dad: Jim let me try the mule.
Jim: Bob, I think you best leave that mule, I'll sell her for slaughter.
Dad: Jim, let me try her.
Jim: Alright Bob.

Dad walked up and unhooked the checklines from the bridle. He pulled off the lines. He clicked his cheek twice and started the mule down between two rows. You could hear dad talking to the mule. The mule relaxed and went down to the end of the terbacker patch, turned around and came back. She never broke a single leaf.

The Guy: Man, what in the he$$ did you do.
Dad: Jim is this a Tennessee mule?
Jim: Bye God, how did you know?
Dad: Because a Tennessee mule is not plowed with checklines.
The Guy: All bullshyt. I was gee'in and haw'in that mule all the way. Didn't pay any attention.
Dad: I know you did, but Tennessee mules are too dumb to understand gee and haw. You have to say "Come here to me" for right and "Yea" for left.

The man took the mule and went down to the end of the field and turned around and came right back. Again, the mule never broke a leaf.

The Guy: Well that explains a lot.
Jim: What do you mean?
The Guy: My wife is from Tennessee. Dumbest dam woman you ever seen. But Bye God if I keep saying Yea, she gets along just fine.

 

[inyati13]

Dad plowing in 1987. My nephew on the big mare.

 

[M5farm]

That explains a lot about Tennessee folks. Do you know anything about Mississippi MULES or Texas Mules

 

[inyati13]

That explains a lot about Tennessee folks. Do you know anything about Mississippi MULES or Texas Mules

No but dad had two great teams of mules. One of his teams he bought from down in TN. The last team he had, my brother bought for him. They came out of the Ohio amish country. Dad still worked his mules until he was in his mid eighties.

 

[J&D Cattle]

Grandpa's brother, Uncle Taylor, always had a team. Worked them until he had a stroke. His Dad, My Great Grandfather had a tractor but Uncle Taylor wouldn't touch it. Loved those animals.

 

[inyati13]

Grandpa's brother, Uncle Taylor, always had a team. Worked them until he had a stroke. His Dad, My Great Grandfather had a tractor but Uncle Taylor wouldn't touch it. Loved those animals.

Dad was the same way as your Uncle Taylor. Thanks.

 

[backhoeboogie]

There were some horses running loose in Orangefield, TX when I was a kid. This had gone on for a few years. Dad set some snares when the sheriff (Buck Patillo) asked him to do so. Sheriff was his first cousin.

Dad did not catch any horses. But he did catch an old mule. Got that mule back to the house eventually and hooked it up to traces. That old mule was a working fool. He was well trained. Don't know if he was left over from an estate or how he came to be running with those horses. He pulled wagons or plows any time you needed him to do so.

We moved to Alaska. Dad sold all the stock. I have never been back to the old home place in Orangefield. It is on the bucket list.

 

[3waycross]

Dad plowing in 1987. My nephew on the big mare.

Great picture Ron.

 

[MO_cows]

Dad plowing in 1987. My nephew on the big mare.

This is the kind of thing that makes you wish for a "like" button. Great shot, good lookin horse.

 

[branguscowgirl]

Yes, a really great picture! I hope that you have that one framed!

 

[wbvs58]

Ron my FIL was an old horse dealer, he and his mates were the biggest con men going. They always had a group of kids and adults around them that "brought there own wages". They themselves wouldn't work in an iron lung, always had a sore shoulder or something so they couldn't stack bales of hay but the kids would jump in and do it. Even when he gave up the dealing and was training race horses there was always the free labour around, he was a great organiser. One thing that he was amazing at was loading horses onto trailers or trucks. Once people had paid the money for some mongrel brumby there was no way they weren't going to get it off the place.
Funny though my wife Pam still thinks that every horse he sold to kids was an improvement on what they had, even if they had to grow into them and he had done them a favour. He is dead now so I don't try and argue the point with her.
That's a great photo Ron.
Ken

 

[inyati13]

Ron my FIL was an old horse dealer, he and his mates were the biggest con men going. They always had a group of kids and adults around them that "brought there own wages". They themselves wouldn't work in an iron lung, always had a sore shoulder or something so they couldn't stack bales of hay but the kids would jump in and do it. Even when he gave up the dealing and was training race horses there was always the free labour around, he was a great organiser. One thing that he was amazing at was loading horses onto trailers or trucks. Once people had paid the money for some mongrel brumby there was no way they weren't going to get it off the place.
Funny though my wife Pam still thinks that every horse he sold to kids was an improvement on what they had, even if they had to grow into them and he had done them a favour. He is dead now so I don't try and argue the point with her.
That's a great photo Ron.
Ken

Ken, you got a good handle on these guys. Jim Bondfield, that was his real name, lived near Brooksville, KY. Dad thought he hung the moon. But he was a crook. My brothers and one sister always share at least one laugh telling a story about dad and Bondfield. He cheated more people than you could shake a stick at. But some one almost killed him one night.

Jim was drinking in a bar, Bracken County is wet. Jim got up late in the night to go home. A man was waiting in the dark outside and as they say here, cut Jim from his crotch to his belly button. Jim staggered back into the bar holding his guts in his arms. They sewed him up and he survived to go for many more years. Never worked a day in his life. He had a soft voice and nice friendly smile. He took advantage of dad and dad could never see it.

 

[backhoeboogie]

That picture must be a treasure. Great pic

 

[melking]

Fantastic picture and story. As usual, thanks.