The Encyclopedia of Alabama, which can be found on the internet, reports that, “By 1930, when the mule population peaked, mules outnumbered horses 332,000 to 65,000. In monetary terms, Alabama mules were valued in 1930 at $32.4 million, or about $97.00 per animal, whereas horses in the state were valued at only $4.3 million, or about $66.00 per animal.”  By the time I was born, Alabama’s mule population was diminishing, but almost every farm in our community had one or more.  Daddy’s mule was named Pete, and Uncle Earl’s mule was Molly, and the stayed together at Uncle Earl’s barn, or in the pasture.  Uncle Earl had owned Jack and Rody before my time.

Mr. Frank Pierce owned Dan and Queen.  Queen was the skinniest mule I ever saw.  Her vertebrae protruded a lot, and her ribs were very visible.  I don’t know how old she was, but she was probably ancient.  Uncle R.V. owned Pet and Emma.  The bus driver, Mr. Frank’s brother, Mr. Mortie Pierce, owned Minnie.  There were lots of other mules.  They were the power of the rural farming tradition in Alabama. They were, for the most part, very gentle docile creatures.

I remember the harnesses, the bridles, single trees, the way they hitched to the plows, the way they hitched to the wagons.

But times were changing. In the late forties, Daddy and Uncle Earl bought a Super A Farmall Tractor.  Daddy sold Pete to a Black man named Henry McClaney, much to his regret.  Pete starved to death.  In time to come, Henry McClaney killed three of the women who lived with him.  I think he was a mental case, but Daddy had no idea how things would turn out.

Just think about 332,000 mules in Alabama in 1930.  A way of life.  Loving relationships.  But each of them came to the last end of the last row.