Jack Fulton

'Mule cowboy near Denio, NV' Photo © Copyright Jack Fulton

What are you doing up so early?
I mean so late.
I mean what are you doing at home?
Aah
you are preparing lunch.

Bought some nice wine yesterday I did
T'is mighty cold here Jack
Cold enough to freeze the socks off a goat.
Goats don't wear socks you would say.
Aah I'd say, but neither do rabbits wear frocks.
It's all guess work after all.

Mice

And I say, "It's all the Devil's work Mice. No rest for the wicked for I was not born wi' a silver spoon in me mouth". Yes, tis work here. First the mightily boring, stiff-minded academic horseshit to plough through with grades (don't mind that) and evaluations (pain in the arse lad) and a whole set of other things from teacher/student conflicts, whining individuals, looking to the near future, guests not paid . . aah, why bore one of my best pals with that. Rather see a goat wearing socks than do this.

When we drove through Oregon 'tuther day (photo included) I ran into a cowboy who had visited two women who owned a couple of mules and who wished a rather spectacular thing done w/the mules to draw attention to their farm, etc. They plied this boy, Jeff Walden, with screwdrivers (vodka + orange juice) until he said he'd take his horse and lead one two hundred miles across the frozen wasteland.

Well, being a true cowboy, and a man, he had to do it. W/his horse, and the mule,  he managed about 20 miles per day. The 'sponsors' would drop a cache of food about every 40 miles indicating where the next one will be. He was out there with that danged mule for about twenty days in freezing weather. He told me he'd never do that again. And, it was two years, exactly, ago, that he did it.

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