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Photo below shows Edith Conyers on one of her many trips around the country with her mule Friday.

 

Another late fall Sunday, graced by sunshine and moderate temperatures, hosted the 40^th Anniversary of the Kentucky Horse Council at the Pleasant Hills Shaker Village this past weekend.  Barren tree lines could not diminish the golden glow of dried native grasses and wildflowers, thru which freshly mown paths undulated over the 3,000 acre preserve with its 40 plus miles of pristine trails.

 

Participants in a two hour trail ride casually assembled at the preserve’s West Lot, prior to lunch and an Equine Industry update.  Trailers and trucks, neatly aligned around corrals and barns, set the backdrop for riders inspecting their tack and gear, as the chill of mid-morning lingered. The crisp air hastened clusters of invigorated horses with eager riders to choose from multiple trailheads leaving the lot.

 

Acres of native grasses, reclaiming themselves from a tall brown stance, opened their arms with freshly mown paths.  Beyond them, riders would find routes hugging fence-lines, descents on gravel or rocky paths into dormant woodlands featuring abandoned mines, rock escarpments, creek crossings with un-muddied waters, and  gradual ascents to pastures where small clusters of trees  exhaled on hilltops. It was an outdoor sanctuary, as far as the eye could see.  A soothing calm settled like a reassuring hand on shoulders that had come with unspoken burdens.

 

“Friday Da Mule”, a noteworthy literary name, I imagined, had been born on a Friday.  This also happened to be the day I looked forward to finishing a stressful form of “work for pay”, anticipating another adventure-filled weekend to compensate for a job whose ratings had just dropped further down an “occupations to pursue” list.  His glistening black coat was stiffer than a horse’s, and his close cropped mane looked contemporarily “punk”.  There was no evidence of his favorite pass-time-----rolling in the dirt until he looked more like “Pig-Sty” in a Peanuts cartoon, than the well-polished mode of transportation I now sat upon.  

 

I felt a twinge of guilt for not having been the one to brush him extensively in preparation for our big day out-and-about the village.  His public this day came from the landed gentry of well-groomed horses, stepping smartly in the presence of their compatriots.  But, Friday, as I was to learn, stood his ground and showed no signs of grief that God had made him different from the rest----- gaited to boot.  This last feature, I learned, resulted from a breeding tactic that elevated his position in the trail riding community.  It was to insure a smoother sort of “Best Guest” ride for those who might be jarred or easily discomforted.  And in my Over-Half-a-Century book, it was a fine quality.  I thought no less of his smaller than a horse’s hooves, stepping surely over uneven ground; or of his larger than a horse’s head, as his huge ears swung front then back like a lazy jack rabbit listening for the drop of heat-prostrated prey.  Friday Da Mule’s Western attire suited him fine, too. I whispered in his ear that even Matt Dillon had a Festus, who provided comic relief to help stabilize the rough and tumble theater of the Wild West.

 

I liked this sure-of-himself mule, even when he reminded me to use one reign instead of two, if I needed him to stop so I could take a picture……or twenty. Adjusting our speed to a trot or slow canter to converse with new friends didn’t seem to bother him, either, if the request was brief.  Friday was in no particular hurry.  He was my Sunday ride-out-in-the-country-with-the-windows-down-and-sunroof-open-get-away-for-the-day kind of guy.  A first:  Once Upon a Mule. 

 

Returning to the lot of horse trailers clinging to their trucks, riders had already started taking off saddles, pads, and bridles. Horses were being brushed out or hosed down with warm water. Friday would soon be among them, tied off, enjoying hay stuffed in a mesh bag hung on his mobile home---a horsey version of tail-gaiting, I supposed.  He had done his day’s service.

 

Now, in the after-glow of enlightenment, it was time to meet and share goals, discuss plans, and launch out into new arenas.  This year the vision and goals would be inclusive and cooperative, joining various factions of the equine industry in an attempt to preserve an essential part of Kentucky’s state heritage---- a place where horses (and certainly, mules) are acknowledged for their cultural contributions, and assigned a value greater than mere Honorable Mentions.

 

Exploring and enjoying wilderness areas, and lands set apart to protect and restore wildlife habitats, whether on foot or aboard a horse, (or just once upon a mule) ,demonstrated to me yet another facet of the Equine Industry’s value to Kentucky.  Could it be that race horses get our adrenaline pumping when we need to cheer, believe, or be surprised beyond our wildest expectations; show horses inspire us with their agility and beauty; and  trail riding, at the opposite end of the spectrum, slows us down for more reflective moments, equally necessary to finding balance in the realization ofdreams, or in recovery following unforeseen “spills”?  

 

Perhaps it’s some combination of the diverse temperaments and talents of horses and their stewards that will restore a sense of uniqueness and value to a state that adopted “Unbridled Spirit” for its marketing slogan.  Preserving parts of a rich heritage enables us to move into the future with a quiet confidence because there is continuity and a recognition that each participant has a particular gift-----even a call-----to inspire and reassure us in a world of complex and harsh realities.  Horses are the very essence of that Unbridled Spirit, inherited from pioneers and explorers who had the tenacity to believe in dreams when all around them obstacles to forward movement threatened to crush their spirits and so tarnish a legacy. 

 

 I suggest that “Once Upon a Mule”, perspectives might change and determination like a mule standing its ground could reclaim and re-establish the value of Equine contributions to the state of Kentucky, along with those who seek to be inspired and restored. I ‘ve always loved horses, but because I took the ride less traveled, now there’s an extra pasture in my heart where a mule (like Friday) could graze too.

 

 

KW@11/19/12

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