I’m Not Interested in Ovulation and Speculation: Mule Country, Arkansas
I, Bernie Harberts, did not use generative AI to write or illustrate this article. Spell check and grammar check, yes. AI, no.
Arkansas is big mule and donkey country. It’s big wagon train and chuck wagon racing country too. And for that you want a hell of a mule.
I guess folks think I’ve got a hell of a mule. Or Maggie could make them one.
Most days, a fellow in a battered Ford F-150 pulls up and says “Wanna sell that mule?” and I say “Nope, he’d only run back to me if I sold him.”

Undaunted, the fellow will start in on Maggie. “‘Like that pony, son. Wanna sell her?” And I give them the nope again.
These guys in Fords are tough. “Well, son, I’ve got a mammoth jack back behind my house. I’ll give you a free breeding. All ya have to do is get that shot from the vet. We can do it today and breed here tomorrow. Make you a pretty young mule.”
The shot he’s talking about is supposed to make her ovulate on the spot.
I’m not interested in ovulation and speculation. I just want to get to Oklahoma.
So we change the subject to cattle prices and fraidy holes and before driving off he’ll try again.
“Son, you need a wagon. I’ve got a mare mule out back I’ll sell you cheap. You could hook them up and…” and off we go talking about the chuck wagon races Clinton-way.
That gets them off the topic of buying my mounts from under me.
Then another car, usually a shiny new SUV, will pull alongside. The window will slide down and a young mother will ask “Mister, can we rent your pony for my daughter’s birthday party?”
By now you know how I’d answer.
Woody and Maggie are spared another day.
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