Clever Magazine, Fall '08 " Stubborn " (www.clevermag.com)

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Stubborn, the mule

by Terri Coffman

Daddy needed help plowing our five-acre vegetable garden. The manual plow he ordered from Sears and Roebuck was difficult to use by himself. Then he came up with a brilliant idea. He went to our friends, the Mennonites, to buy a plow mule. But, he came home with Stubborn, instead. Actually, it was a bargain, they had said. Stubborn came as a package deal with his mother, a pregnant mare we named Dolly. Everyone had high hopes for Stubborn. Dad planned to train him to pull the plow. After all, mules are known for their strength, stamina and sure‑footedness Yes, everyone thought Stubborn would make a good addition to our farm in Belize.

We soon found out that Stubborn didn't get his name by accident. He was blind in his left eye and deaf in his right ear, which would sometimes flop over, partially covering his one good eye. It wasn't long before we found out Stubborn wasn't just his name, it was his personality. We always had to approach him from his right side so he could see us, otherwise, he would get spooked and try to bolt. But Dad was patient, determined he could make Stubborn into an A-1 plow mule.

Early the next morning, we heard Stubborn braying in protest as Dad put the halter around him. Stubborn did his best to bolt, but Dad tied the reins around his own waist while trying to get the halter around Stubborn again. Stubborn bucked, throwing Dad off balance. The next thing we knew, Stubborn was tearing down through our garden to the path that led to the river, half bucking, half running, with Dad being dragged helplessly behind. Lucky for Dad, Stubborn ran straight into the river where he came to a sudden stop, leaving my dad a little bruised and sore, but none the worse for his unplanned detour. This became one of Stubborn's favorite antics.

Day after day, dad tried working with Stubborn. Each time, Stubborn saw Dad coming with the halter, he would start braying and bucking. After several long and frustrating weeks, it was evident there was no way that mule was going to pull a plow. Dad eventually gave up and ended up pulling the plow by himself.

Next, came the cart. Dad had built a small cart that he would use to carry vegetables into town to sell. Surely, Stubborn wouldn't object to pulling something that had four large wheels? Stubborn behaved almost too well as he was hitched up to the empty cart. He just stood there, flicking at flies with his tail. Dad slowly climbed onto the cart and gave the reins a gentle tap. That was all it took. Stubborn brayed, reared and bucked and started running. Dad couldn't control him. No matter how much he pulled back on the reins, Stubborn would not slow down. Instead, he made a complete U-turn with cart in tow, and headed straight for his favorite place. That mule didn't stop running until he ran himself, my dad, and the cart into the river. The cart flipped over forcing my dad to take another unintentional swim.

The next day, Dad tied Stubborn to the back bumper of our old truck, started it up and turned in the direction of the Mennonite compound. They didn't want to take Stubborn back, but Dad was a good salesman. He offered them a month's supply of fresh vegetables if they took the mule off his hands. That was a very good compromise.