Ridin' Mules

   

    In July I was fortunate enough to attend a photography workshop led by  John and Barb Gerlach. We spent six days in the mountains of Montana. Yellowstone Mountain Guides  provided the saddle horses, pack mules, wranglers, and a cook for our expedition of twelve people.
    All guests and the workshop leaders rode horses. The guide staff rode mules or horses according to personal preference. Tents, food, and personal belongings were packed in by seven mules.
    The mules can carry over 200 lbs apiece. Some mules work solely as pack mules and can't be ridden under saddle. Other mules can be ridden under saddle and these are called ridin' mules. Guides often argue about which ones are which.
    One night we discovered that we were short one horse due to a lost shoe. Well aware of the discussion among the guides as to which mules can or can't be ridden, I volunteered to ride a mule the following day if one was available. All agreed that Banjo was a ridin' mule and that after a day in the saddle on this mule I would never want to trail ride on a horse again.

Banjo

    The morning of the ride arrived cool and clear with low humidity. The camp cook informed me that the way to Banjo's heart was through his stomach and that I should feed him his favorite treat, Tree Top All Natural Fruit Snacks. I walked over to where he stood tied and tore open a package of the Gummi bear-like snacks.  At the sound of the wrapper he perked up his gigantic ears. He relished the bribe and I left him licking his lips, certain that he was now very fond of me.
    The ride began well. Banjo had a smooth comfortable walk and he picked his way carefully over rocks, logs, and creeks. This ride was a cakewalk for him compared to his usual job carrying heavy packs up steep mountains. I did notice that he constantly swished his tail, a behavior that I blamed on insects that must be badgering him.
    We reached a beautiful green mountain meadow after an hour's ride. We were to have our pictures taken one by one with the mountain as a backdrop. All the animals who weren't presently being photographed were allowed to relax and feast on the tender green grass. While waiting our turn I slipped my feet out of the stirrups to stretch my achy knees.
    The rodeo was on!
    Banjo realized almost immediately that I was in a vulnerable position without my feet in the stirrups. He stopped grazing and bucked once. I grabbed the saddle horn tightly with my right hand, suspecting that I was in trouble. He bucked a second time. My feet flew up in the air as if controlled by some maniacal puppeteer and I became totally convinced that I was in peril. He bucked a third time. I sensed several inches of air between the seat of my pants and the saddle. I became airborne. Banjo took just one more step to regain his balance and calmly put his head back down to resume eating.
    Fortunately for me I was not hurt. I hurled some choice expletives at Banjo at the top of my lungs. Remorseless, he bent his head to ask for a rub.
    At least we answered the question "Is Banjo a ridin' mule?" The answer is a resounding "NO!"

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