THINGS I HAVE

LEARNED

FROM MULES

AND OTHER OBSERVATIONS

It is a cross I must bear, and yes, I realize that to some, my giftedness might be considered a terrible burden.  Luckily, I choose not to use my genius for evil, but rather, for the good of mankind.  Over the years my keen intellect has been noted many times.  Why just yesterday, my wife, Cathy, commented, “Oh brilliant, Firth, I can’t wait to see this one,” upon informing her of my newest invention, the TF, patent pending, electric-blinking light harness, for my mules.  This way I can keep track of the criminals at night when I turn them out in the backcountry.  Not only that, I figure it will add a pleasant festive touch to the place around the holidays. 

At any rate, my journey for knowledge has been long and arduous, but along the way I’ve acquired a vast amount of valuable insight concerning the outdoors that undoubtedly will benefit mankind.  I feel it is my civic duty to share this knowledge with all.  Yes, I realize I could make a small fortune selling my expertise in the form of a publication, enlightening the masses, but that would be selfish, now wouldn’t it?

For example, I’ve learned from astute observation and quick reflexes that possession really is 9/10ths of the law, and if a bear has taken possession of your pack box containing your three-day supply of food, it’s his; go home or learn to fish.

I’ve not only discovered that a deer mouse in your sleeping bag at three in the morning can be a formidable opponent, but that there are ways in which to exit a mummy bag I’m certain the manufacturer never knew about, and it can be executed in less time than it takes a shooting star to get from Ursa Minor to Canes Venatici.

I have learned that the mosquito is an insect that makes you appreciate flies.

I’ve come to learn that it is nearly impossible to hold an intelligent conversation with an enviro-meddler without using both of your hands around that person’s throat.

I have determined that there is always at least one goofy hunting buddy that insists upon bringing a scary Halloween mask to deer camp.

I have become conscious that no matter which lures you carefully choose to take to the lake, you should have brought the one you left at home in the tackle box.

I have learned, amazingly enough, that a flushed covey of quail can sound remarkably like a charging bear about to eat you.

I have discovered that I can outrun my wife.

I have found out that if at first you don’t succeed, read the instructions.

I have come to appreciate how fortunate I am to have a woman who smells like campfire smoke, Power Bait, and bug repellant.

I have learned that trout, as a general rule, do not usually reside in ugly places; this appeals to me greatly.

I have discovered that no matter which side of the tent you choose to sleep on, it will be on the side with the spider the size of a Buick.

I am aware that if you fish alone and forget to put film in the camera, you will catch a lunker, and not even your wife will believe the incredible story of your heroic battle.

I have found, unfortunately, that alcohol, lederhosen, and karaoke do not mix.

I have learned to avoid, unless absolutely necessary, sleeping in the tent at deer camp after the first night of a five-day chili-fest.

I have only recently learned, with great astonishment, that my mother doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head.  I fear, however, that my wife does.

 I have discovered that jumping out from behind a bush wearing a Halloween gorilla mask to frighten your hunting buddy who is on his way to the latrine is hysterical.  It will also hasten his reason for going there in the first place.

I have learned, however, that hiding in the closet and waiting for your wife to get her coat is not a good idea.  Funny, but not a good idea.

Over the years I have also acquired a great deal of knowledge from my mules.  These incredibly intelligent creatures have taught me much about the world around me and I have studied them carefully in an attempt to unlock the mysteries of life.

For instance; I have learned that one should never attempt to mount a mule by utilizing the Roy Rogers style speed mount from a barn loft or any other elevated position without proper personal protective equipment and prior notification to the mule.

I have discovered the virtues of the mule in regards to being a wonderful riding animal, especially if you are inclined to travel in the same direction.

I’ve learned that when traveling in the backcountry, one should refrain from short naps while occupying the saddle, especially if you are the guide.

It is my opinion one should never give a mule more than one beer, unless of course, you truly wish to listen to the entire history of western civilization, and it’s creation by a higher power named Rufus, a divine entity with oversized ears.

I have become cognizant that it is, at best, an exercise in futility to attempt to catch your mule while wearing a “fat Elvis” costume.

I have learned that while mounted on a mule, and sitting around discussing the theory of quasi-random meiotic shufflings and distinguishable neural substrates with friends, one should never dally after successfully roping a tee-post.

I have discovered it best not to attempt to ride a mule while dallied to 150 feet of barbwire and a tee-post.

A little known fact and well-kept secret is that pigs apparently eat mules.

I have found that one should never ride a mule through a bar that has a mirror on the back wall while wearing nothing but a Lady Godiva wig and a nylon stocking over your face to conceal your identity, unless you have made prior arrangements to have transportation waiting outside.

I have learned that he who wishes not to be hijacked by a mule must journey afoot.

The longear has taught me never to attempt the Hop-A-Long Cassidy running jump mount from the rear even if you do have the element of surprise in your favor.

I have learned never to wear a Halloween gorilla mask near a highline or hitching rail at deer camp.

I have discovered that sneakers are invaluable in the backcountry, especially if you turn stock out to graze.

I have learned that hobbles on a mule are as useless as a proctologist’s finger in guacamole.

Over the years I have found that the term Stubborn as a mule only applies to people.

I have come to know that when doctoring mules, I’d have been better served and more prepared had I been trained in the darting and tranquilizing of wild animals.

I have learned that there are good mules and there are bad mules, but there are NO dumb mules.

I have discovered that the more I observe the actions of those elected to represent us, the more I admire my mules.

I have become aware that most people journey through life without bizarre encounters with the longear.  I, however, am not one of them.

I know by now that you must be thinking, boy, that Tom really is a genius, he must know everything.  While it is true that I possess a tremendous amount of valuable knowledge, most of which the government would dearly love to get their hands on, I have, however, come to accept that women, the universe, and stock trailer wiring are but three of the many mysteries I will never understand!