Travel by Mule

Mule Woody Hits Mile Five

Woody disputes the merits of the journey at the entrance to my tipi. Did he think he was going to have to sleep inside my cone shaped home? As crazy as it sounds, some folks thought just that. “How,” they asked, “do you get that horse in to your tent at night.” At which I’d explain Woody wasn’t a horse and, well, you can see how much it takes to explain away life on the road with a tipi.

In… Continue reading

Touchy Flanks

Tonight I’m concerned for Woody. He’s touchy along his withers and he didn’t finish his feed. When I peeled off the vintage McClellan saddle and ran my hand down his back, he pinned his ears and gave me that “Pal, don’t” in the way that sparse words convey danger.

Earlier, when I pitched camp along the South bank of the Neuse, Tom and his daughter Rachel rode to visit and when they departed Woody churned back and forth on his… Continue reading

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