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RED MULE - by
Maggie P. Walker
I
grew up on a large farm in Verbena, Alabama, the youngest of eight brothers
and sisters. Four of us (myself included) were deaf. We had a wonderful
childhood, but it was hard work on the farm. During the two summers of 1925
and 1926, when I was six and seven years old, my father plowed the field
every day of the week and a half day Saturday, resting on Sunday. Every
morning, Papa would put me on our old reddish-brown mule and I would ride
him out to the field. I called him Red Mule. Upon reaching the field, I
would walk home. When it was time for lunch, my mother would send me back
out to the field to get Papa and I would ride Red Mule home, then back out
to the field again after lunch. This went on until it was time to harvest
the crops.
 In
the Fall of 1926, when I was seven, I was sent off to Alabama School for the
Deaf in Talladega and stayed there for nine months, returning in May. I was
met at the train station and rode in our
wagon for the seven mile trip to our
farm. Early the next morning, Papa woke us all and took us to the barn where
old Red Mule was waiting. Red Mule was so excited to see me again, brushing
his tail back and forth. Then Papa put me up on Red Mule again for the first
time in almost a year. Soon thereafter, our neighbor came by to pick up Red
Mule. That was when I learned Papa had recently sold Red Mule to our
neighbor because he was too old to plow. I also learned that Red Mule had
run away and arrived back at our barn the day I came home from school. I
cried when our neighbor took Red Mule away and I never saw him again.
Though Red Mule had been sold several months earlier, he never tried to
return to our farm until that day I came home. Mama and Papa believed
strongly that Red Mule could smell me when I got off the train and knew I
had come home. It is said that animals have a special sense. I can't say
whether Red Mule really smelled me, sensed me, or what. But I do remember
how excited Red Mule and I were to see each other again! |