canesisters
Garden Master
Yes, John Henry was a draft mule. Probably half percheron, he was a BIG boy. His hoofs were the size of dinner plates and his head was so big that I had to learn to tie a rope halter, I couldn't find a regular one to fit.
He had been picked up at an auction by a couple who had gone to sell goats. They knew nothing about mules and posted a for sale note at the feed store. If I remember right, he was only a couple hundred dollars. He had an S spray painted on his hip, they said that meant he was there for slaughter. ? Anyone with good sense would've left him at the auction.
He was probably somewhere between 20 and 30. Scars and big lumps on both front knees said that he had had a nasty fall at some point. He was barely green broke - you could get on him, but then he only had one speed (fast walk) and steering was 'iffy' at best (only right turns.. IF he was in the mood) with really bad 'brakes'. To top it all off, he was mostly blind. A careful look at his eyes showed a rough stripe across the middle of his cornea. I suspect that he was a victim of one of the 'good'ol boys' fly remedies (diesel fuel or turpentine) being sprayed on him and burning his eyes.
He led well, and tied ok - so that was a start. As far as I could tell, he'd never had his feet messed with. I had him about 3 months before his first farrier apt. We had slowly worked up to lifting, holding, tapping, rasping every day in the stall. The day the farrier came, he spent a good bit of time meeting John Henry and talking to him before starting to work. That mule kept his head on my shoulder the entire time and hugged me against his neck so hard it hurt. His eyes ran like crazy the whole time and I swear he was crying. But he was a brave boy and got all 4 trimmed enough to shape them a bit and stop some of the spreading and splitting. Over the next few months he got them done a few more times and acted like a pro at it after his first experience.
He was an adventure to ride - after a good bit of lead rope work learning the only cue I was able to teach him. I had to plan every ride to be a big circle because it was pretty much get on, hang on, arrive back at the barn. The second I hit the saddle he would head off at a fast walk with his head nodding and his big'ol ears swinging. I was pretty much just along for the ride and we stuck to a few familiar trails. He would steam ahead until I picked up the reins, that was our cue for 'Watch Out'. He would stop, then start again very carefully, slowly lifting each foot and putting it down until he either found the stick or hole or whatever I was warning him about, or I put the reins down again - then we were OFF again.
One October evening he didn't come in for dinner and I found him laying in the pasture. He had, apparently, laid down for a nap and died. The grass around his feet wasn't even bent, so I know he hadn't struggled. His gigantic rope halter is still hanging in my barn.
He had been picked up at an auction by a couple who had gone to sell goats. They knew nothing about mules and posted a for sale note at the feed store. If I remember right, he was only a couple hundred dollars. He had an S spray painted on his hip, they said that meant he was there for slaughter. ? Anyone with good sense would've left him at the auction.
He was probably somewhere between 20 and 30. Scars and big lumps on both front knees said that he had had a nasty fall at some point. He was barely green broke - you could get on him, but then he only had one speed (fast walk) and steering was 'iffy' at best (only right turns.. IF he was in the mood) with really bad 'brakes'. To top it all off, he was mostly blind. A careful look at his eyes showed a rough stripe across the middle of his cornea. I suspect that he was a victim of one of the 'good'ol boys' fly remedies (diesel fuel or turpentine) being sprayed on him and burning his eyes.He led well, and tied ok - so that was a start. As far as I could tell, he'd never had his feet messed with. I had him about 3 months before his first farrier apt. We had slowly worked up to lifting, holding, tapping, rasping every day in the stall. The day the farrier came, he spent a good bit of time meeting John Henry and talking to him before starting to work. That mule kept his head on my shoulder the entire time and hugged me against his neck so hard it hurt. His eyes ran like crazy the whole time and I swear he was crying. But he was a brave boy and got all 4 trimmed enough to shape them a bit and stop some of the spreading and splitting. Over the next few months he got them done a few more times and acted like a pro at it after his first experience.
He was an adventure to ride - after a good bit of lead rope work learning the only cue I was able to teach him. I had to plan every ride to be a big circle because it was pretty much get on, hang on, arrive back at the barn.
The second I hit the saddle he would head off at a fast walk with his head nodding and his big'ol ears swinging. I was pretty much just along for the ride and we stuck to a few familiar trails. He would steam ahead until I picked up the reins, that was our cue for 'Watch Out'. He would stop, then start again very carefully, slowly lifting each foot and putting it down until he either found the stick or hole or whatever I was warning him about, or I put the reins down again - then we were OFF again.One October evening he didn't come in for dinner and I found him laying in the pasture. He had, apparently, laid down for a nap and died. The grass around his feet wasn't even bent, so I know he hadn't struggled. His gigantic rope halter is still hanging in my barn.
Thanks for sharing cane can tell you loved him
