Why I love mules

Tips on how to buy and train a mule

By Steve Milheim

“My husband bought this mule 4 years ago for hunting and he has only used him once. Buster just hangs out in the pasture and pesters my pregnant mare. Would you like to come take a look at him?” Jen asked me one day at work.

John and I were down a mule. We had sold Amos to a young girl to ride around her family ranch as he could no longer carry a full-sized adult on rough wilderness trails due to his arthritis. “Let’s go look at Buster tomorrow,” I said to John on the phone a few days later.

“How do you think we should make our decision to purchase him?” he asked. “Well, I’m not sure I want to try riding a mule that’s been hanging out in a pasture for four years, but if we can get a saddle on him and he will get into a trailer we can probably work with him,” I responded.

Buster came running up to the fence to greet us when we arrived. He nuzzled our pockets hoping for a treat. He didn’t seem to mind the saddle and was happy to hop into the trailer. We wrote a check and drove him home. “I didn’t realize how short and fat he was, “ I said as he charged up to the fence to greet Sheba and Rose in the adjacent pasture.

At 16 hands the two mollies towered above the 14 hand Buster. That didn’t stop him from jumping the fence a few minutes later and getting his rear hoof caught in the woven wire. He stood patiently while I untangled him then took off to harass the two mollies, nipping at their haunches and chasing them about their pasture. “He doesn’t have much of a withers,” I noted with concern.

“He seems to be living up to his name,” John replied as Buster bullied the big mollies. “We should change his name, “ I suggested. “Let’s call him MiniMule since he’s so short compared to the other two.” It was a bit of a joke considering his abdominal girth.

“I think maybe he should be your project,” John said skeptically. “OK, I’ll start with a Decker and see how he does with that.” 

The trouble started with packboxes. He stood still when I cinched up the Decker but every time I approached MiniMule with an orange pack box he’d skitter away. As my frustration grew I called Stu, a life-long packer for the forest service and park service. “Stu, I don’t know what to do with this mule. He’ll walk around the pack boxes and stand between the

“Why don’t you bring that mule over and I’ll see if I can help you,” he offered.

Saturday morning Stu had us tie MiniMule to his barn. Stu stood at his head as I snugged up the cinch on the Decker. “OK, here’s where the problem starts,” I said. “He won’t let me approach him with this pack box.” MiniMule stood perfectly still as I walked up and slipped the box hooks onto the Decker. “Well,” I said with some astonishment, “that’s his good side. Watch what happens on the offside.”

I walked behind and hung the second box on a perfectly quiet mule.

“Stu, what did you do?” I asked with bewilderment.

“Oh, I just paid attention and talked to old MiniMule here, and told him it would be all right.”

“Stu, I don’t know what you did to get him to accept those pack boxes, but do you think we could ride this mule?” John said.

“Sure, why not,” Stu replied.

“OK,” I said. “I’ll put on the riding saddle.”

“Oh,” John suddenly stated, “I forgot my riding helmet. Steve, I guess you’ll have to ride him.”

As Stu held the lead rope, I eased myself into the saddle, not sure what would happen. Nothing happened. MiniMule stood perfectly still. Then Stu led him around for a few minutes, handed me the lead rope and said, “I think you’re good to go.”

I continued to work with MiniMule through the summer and he packed his load into elk camp that fall without much drama. “Let’s take a ride and scout a new drainage,” Karl said since we had an extra day after we had packed out our camp. I mounted MiniMule confident that the work we’d done in the pasture at home with riding had prepared me for an uneventful ride.

Then, MiniMule saw the cattle. Off we went at a fast trot across the prairie. There was no stopping him. “I hope we don’t find Steve piled up under some sage brush,” Karl said to John as they watched me disappear over the next rise. Fifty yards from the cattle, MiniMule stopped, snorted at them and then stood quietly watching them.

Although I had stayed in the saddle, I realized I didn’t have any tools to deal with a mule like MiniMule. I’d been diligent at reading the training articles in Western Mule Magazine, but I needed more help. I saw the ad for Ty Evans Mulemanship clinics and signed up.

Training my mule at a Ty Evans Clinic

By Steve Milheim

Colt starting is easy. You just need time, patience, persistence, a process, and an experienced mentor.

A good friend who can offer guidance and reassurance along the way helps, too. At 64 years old I wondered if starting my first mule colt was a good idea. I’d barely gotten a handle on MightyMule, but felt compelled to try. If I started my own colt I couldn’t blame anyone but myself for future problems.

I’d attended multiple Ty Evans Mulemanship clinics and knew that if I put in the time and effort, Ty would successfully guide me through the process. I purchased Moose as a yearling in the spring. He had been exposed to lots of stimuli by his breeder Alora at Twisted Pines Ranch in Kila, Montana and was easy to halter and trailer load. And, he was full of shenanigans. One day the mules were doing some lawn care for me and I had left the door to the trailer open.

Next thing I knew Moose had loaded himself and was exploring the inside of the trailer and leaving his calling card. Another day he wandered into the garage to examine the tools on my work bench. When an empty feed bag blew into the pasture he found if he picked it up and shook it he could frighten the mollies. Soon he was chasing them around the pasture at a gallop.

He and MightyMule were constantly playing their John mule games. “Steve, why don’t you bring Moose to a Foundation Class. He’s not too young. You need to have him doing the groundwork checklist well before Colt Starting next spring,” Ty Evans advised me before his August clinic in Roundup, Montana. Ty had us tie up our mules to the fence the first morning of class while he talked about the importance of leading a foot with the lead rope. “Hey, Steve, turn around and look at Moose,” he said after several minutes. The whole class turned around and saw Moose lying completely flat on his side and sound asleep. “That’s a lot better than the rodeo I had on MightyMule at his first clinic,” I thought to myself.

Over the next six months we mastered Ty’s groundwork checklist: clear the front, centered circles, roll the hinds and stop, roll the hinds and return to the circle, roll the hinds and clear the front. We worked on backing up and leading. My friend Jesse was starting her mule Squirrel, so we spent many Sunday afternoons together in her arena working with the colts. I learned to saddle on a loose lead rope once I figured out how not to get tangled up and drop the saddle. We struggled a little with the snaffle bit but got good at fence work.

Anticipation grew as June approached. Finally, five of us were standing with our colts as Ty approached the round pen riding his big mule Riata. “Do you think we will ride today?” I asked with both excitement and trepidation. “I’m not sure,” Jesse whispered. “Let’s put 3 colts in the round pen,” Ty advised.

Soon Moose was bothering a big mare and got whacked in the chest with both hind feet. That was his first of many lessons. Ty rode in and flagged the colts from Riata. He was teaching them to find comfort away from the herd. 

Then he had each of us approach the round pen at a different place as he flagged the colts till they found comfort and relief when they were with their owners. “Put on your halters, saddle up, and do your groundwork. When you’re ready, get on the fence and have your mule come up and stand next to you,” Ty instructed. Everyone had done their homework well and soon each of us was sitting on the rail above a quiet colt. “See if you can put a leg over your mule and put some weight in the saddle.

Just keep one leg and arm on the fence so you aren’t committed,” Ty offered. At that point my anticipation completely overroad any trepidation. I wasn’t very comfortable half hanging on the fence. I wanted to sit on my mule. So I did. Moose just stood there. Ty scowled a little. “You are committed now, Steve.” It wasn’t long till all three of us were moving our mules around the round pen like bumper cars. There wasn’t a lot of steering or brakes but all were walking calmly.

What a feeling, I thought. And this is only Day 1. On Day 2 we started in the round pen then moved to the big arena. “Go ahead and put on your snaffle bits and start trying to direct your colts using your seat, leg, and rein,” Ty directed us.

“Don’t expect too much at first, but they will learn quickly.” Being in the larger arena was even more exhilarating. Ty wanted us to walk, trot and lope each day. I worked hard just to get Moose to trot. “I will help get that lope,” Ty said as he trotted behind us on Riata. Even the big mule on his tail couldn’t push Moose into the lope. 

Ty was tapping him on the rear with his flag when he finally loped a few steps and then settled back into his walk. “OK,” Ty said after we had warmed up in the arena on Day 3. “We are going for a walk through the junipers.” He opened the gate. We looked at each other, wondering if this was a good idea. Soon Ty was leading five of us through the trees while Skye, his wife, followed in case one of us needed a little help. Moose got a little excited and broke into a trot when I led him around a tree and he lost sight of the others for a minute. Later, he was leading the whole group. 

The big surprise on Day 5 came when Ty let three steers into the arena. First we all worked together calmly following the steers around. Then each of us had the chance to move the steers on our own. Moose even cut one steer away from the other two.

“Wow,” I said to Jesse, “I can’t believe what we have accomplished with these colts in five days!” “Just remember,” Ty advised us, “The work you do here and for the next few years will build a riding companion that you’ll have for 30 years. Some of you may even make it through the progression from the snaffle bit to the Hackamore, then the Two Rein, and Bridle.”

I sure hope I am riding Moose in the Bridle when I am 94.

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A POEM ABOUT MULES

by Steve Milheim, M.D.

Shellie rides a big black mule;
They stand so tall and proud.
As they enter the arena,
They sure do please the crowd.
Why they chose to race this race
No one will ever know.
A determined visage on her face
Said they were set to go.
Two mules, two riders, tethered,
They cross the starting line,
Then trot down through the barrels
Looking mighty fine.

Pantyhose clenched in their teeth;
Hannah loping near.
They flash across the finish line
As fans let out a cheer.
A shiny buckle in her hand,
She wipes a tear or two,
Then jumps back on that big black mule,
'Cause they've got more to do!
 

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The First Ride Standing here quietly next to the rail,

Does he know that this day starts a new tale?

Clear the front, roll the hinds, foundation skills, All to prepare him to learn the new drills.

Gazing down on him, I’m ready to sit. How will he start and stop, move with the bit?

I sit in the saddle; Moose looks around. Together we walk ahead; it feels profound! No longer just trainer, no longer just colt, We move as one being; with hardly a jolt. 

Today he's a riding mule, his new career. Together we'll ride life's trails: future starts here.

— Steve Milheim
Boyd Ranch Mule Days 2026

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How to Buy Your First Mule

by Steve Milheim

“What would you think about getting two mules for packing into elk camp?” John asked me over the phone.
“I think it would be great if you got a couple mules,” I replied.
“No, we’re getting them together.”
“What? Mules?? But I don’t really have a place to keep them in the winter. All I have is a small pasture. I’ve never owned stock before. Why mules? I don’t even know how to ride that well.” I said, trying to think of as many excuses as I could.

“Don’t worry, they can stay at my place in the winter. I saw an ad for two, older, experienced mules. Mules are sure-footed and will keep you safe on the trail because their first priority is keeping themselves safe,” John responded. 

A few evenings later Emory introduced us to his two mules. “I used to have a whole string of mules I’d take into the Bob Marshall Wilderness, but my Parkinson’s has gotten so bad I can’t ride any more. I’ve sold them all except for my two best riding mules, Amos and Sheba. Would
you like to ride them around?”

We saddled the two 16 hand black mules. Sheba looked a bit smaller so I offered to ride her. “I haven’t been able to ride them in a year or so, so they might be a little fresh,” Emory warned.

I hopped on Sheba and we walked down the driveway. When she saw the open gate to the
road she began trotting. It was all I could do to get her turned around before we were going to be off to visit the neighbors. “Oh, boy,” I thought to myself, “ This is going to be a little more challenging than I thought. This mule doesn’t even have power steering.”

“I’m out of the mule business so everything is for sale, saddles, pads, Deckers, pack boxes, panniers, feeders, hay, trailer, round pen, and tack shed,” Emory offered.

“OK, I said. “No better way to get started than jump right in with seasoned animals and all the gear you could need,” I said. We agreed on a price, hooked up the trailer, loaded the mules
and tack, and we were now co-owners of two mules.

After a few trail rides, our first outing with the mules was a Backcountry Horsemen trail clearing weekend at Meadow Creek. John and I were trying to figure out the tangle of leather straps attached to the Decker pack saddle. “Let’s ask Stu for some help,” John suggested.

Stu was a founding member of the Backcountry Horsemen 50 years ago and spent his life packing mules for the Forest Service and National Park Service.

“Well, you at least got the britchen headed toward the back of the mule,” Stu said with a chuckle. “Let me show you how to adjust the straps so your britchen hangs just right.” With that
he helped us adjust the myriad of roller buckles and Conway buckles.
“Stu, why do you need to wear spurs when you ride such a well trained mule?” I asked naively.

“Let me tell you a little story,” he replied. “Once I had to pack long beams into the Park to repair one of the chalets in Glacier that had been damaged by an avalanche. The beams were so
long I had to attach the front of the beam to one mule and the back to a second mule, one on each side to balance the load.

Now I had really good pack mules, but the problem, you see, was when we got to a switchback on the trail. If the front mule just made a sharp turn, the back mule would have been pushed off the mountainside by the beams. So, I had to use my spurs on my riding mule to get him to lead the hand mule straight up the mountainside until the second mule with the beam got to the switchback and could safely make the turn.”

“I wonder if Amos and Sheba have ever packed out elk quarters?” John asked one morning in elk camp after he had successfully taken a bull with his bow. “I read somewhere you can put Vick’s Vapor Rub on their nose so they won’t be frightened of the smell, but I don’t have any here in elk camp.”

“Let’s try putting on a cavalry feed bag with some oats to distract them a little while we’reloading these quarters,” I suggested after we had tied the quarters in the mantis. It worked pretty well along with some gentle words of encouragement to keep the mules calm while we hitched the mantied quarters to the Deckers with barrel hitches.

As we packed out I thought how fortunate we were to get into mules with two older, seasoned animals, tips from Western Mule Magazine and helpful advice from some old-timers. 

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