Isn’t it interesting how people find a way to communicate with each other if they do not speak the same language? And I find it even more fascinating that animals do the same, trying to talk to us humans, provided we give them a chance and do not train them in a way that prevents them from doing so. An animal that has been treated well and according to its nature will present a will to communicate with us humans and will trust us to pay attention to its needs. If we crush this trust that is placed in us by not listening or even punishing the attempts to tell us something, the animal will stop to communicate and will display something a behaviourist will call “learned helplessness”. This behaviour can often be witnessed at horse shows or any other show that involves animals and money. In dogs you can spot displays of so called “calming signals” towards their owners, in equines you often see a total lack of interest and enthusiasm for what they are asked to do. In my experience horse people tend to mistake this learned helplessness for the horse being very well broke. I would think most mule folks would be really worried if their mule would show the same behaviour!

When we got Larry and Katie, they must have taken us for pretty dumb. Larry did not like being brushed and saddled. Katie did not like to be saddled. It took us a few weeks to find out why Larry didn’t like to be brushed (the bristles on our brushes were synthetic and did charge the coat with static electricity- which Larry, big wuss that he is, hated), and a few weeks to find out that Katie hated her saddle. It took Katie a few weeks to teach me that hanging her head over the gate means dropping whatever you are doing and go over to say hi and scratch her. She was very patient with me, although it took me a long time in her eyes. And that although she was already digging holes at the gate! And had started to bob her head up and down, which reminded me of Queen Elizabeth of England beckoning with her hand to get a servant to come over.

Larry started out not communicating at all, pretty much. The only cues we got from him were tail swishes. He had no repertoire yet for mule- human- communication, verbal or non-verbal. The first time we heard him bray was when he greeted his newly filled hay net one evening, served by his dutiful human. That was the only time he actually made himself heard. Katie at that point had not uttered a sound yet. Her non- verbal communication was working quite nicely already though. Of course the most drastic exclamation was not to move. Like, at all. Especially if someone else was watching and would immediately label her a “stubborn mule”. In the first months I usually had no idea why Katie would stop. She would just freeze on the spot, and I would sit there and try to understand what was going on in that longeared head. I have to admit I often had no clue! I would get her to move then by asking her for one step and praise her for taking that step. Needless to say, there was no way to know how long we would be away when we started on the trail… As Larry did not yet trust Steph, but trusted Katie, he often just copied Katie’s behaviour. To Katie’s relief I got smarter over time. I knew why she stopped most of the time (there’s a nice trail we never took before, let’s take that one! Or: ugh, this trail leads back to the trailer! Or: hey, that tree trunk was not here last time we came by!). Weird enough, when I point out that I know what this is about, we can move on.

In those first days Katie knew already how to get her butt scratched (even the dumbest human will know when you shove that butt right under said human’s nose!!). Larry had no idea that scratching felt good, and how to ask for that. This changed with the first shedding of the winter coats that first Spring. Larry had watched Katie now for a few months and thought he had nailed it down. So he shoved his butt around at Steph with surprising speed that almost sent Steph into the electric wire fencing! Steph poked his finger into Larry’s butt cheek and yelled “hey!!”. The second Larry stopped Steph scratched Larry’s butt. It took a few days, but then Larry slowed down a little and would not knock Steph over with his big blonde butt anymore. This taught Larry that a) scratching feels sooo good and b) you can talk to your human and he will listen. In the second year the mules were here Larry learned to hold up what needs to be scratched to Steph and Steph would scratch it. Now this is the third year with our mules, and we have all kinds of talks and discussions with each other. Larry can express himself now to an extent we would never have thought possible. What a blessing, as he cannot be ridden anymore and has instead turned into one happy puppy dog who has his little quirks and the silliness he’s supposed to have as a john mule. He has become quite verbal, and has an impressive repertoire ranging from some kind of trumpet sound which reminds you of a little steamboat to a wailing noise that sounds like an old lady sobbing in her handkerchief (this will be used when obviously someone has forgotten to put the mules on the pasture, or if my gullible father is visiting who will unfailingly go out and pity the poor little mule). Katie will tune in to the sobbing old lady with a high pitched wailing squeal.

Larry will also point out that something is not adjusted properly on his harness by stopping dead in his tracks and pointing his ears back. And he will tell me regularly he thinks I could trim his hooves again by putting a front hoof on the gate (not on the top, but at least midway up!) and look miserable. No, his feet are not neglected, both mules have quite the model feet.

Katie and I have the same conversation every evening. I carry a little plastic bag with sweet feed with me, that I will add to Katie’s bowl, after the mules have switched bowls once (no idea why that is necessary, but who am I to ask?!). After I’ve done that and Katie has finished, the conversation will go like this: “There’s a plastic bag in your pocket!” (Katie pointing her upper lip to my jacket pocket). “I know, but it’s empty!” “No, seriously, I’m sure there’s still something in there.” (Katie sniffing the tip of the bag). “I assure you you ate it all!” (Me pointing into her bowl, which Katie checks for crumbs then). “I bet there is still something in that bag!!” (Katie pushing her nose into my pocket). Then I cave, take out the plastic bag and show her it’s empty. “See?! Nothing left!!” So Katie heaves a big sigh, and turns around to at least get her butt scratched.

Good communication makes things much easier. Katie used to pull on the rope to go somewhere to check something out, but nowadays she nods her head in the direction where she needs to check something and I tell her it’s okay to go and have a look. She used to try and get her way all the time, but instead of demanding she usually asks now. Of course she will forget herself from time to time if something is far too interesting! Using sign language as well as vocals, we get along really well with our mules. Only sometimes they overthink things. Like the time in the indoor arena, when Larry stopped in front of a pylone and somehow thought trainer Anja wanted him to paw that thing. It speaks volumes about how weird we humans must seem to our mules when they suppose you might ask for things like that!