A Lot about Mules
Travis Kuykendal
Birth: April 15, 1909

“The Mule Guy”

Travis Kuykendal is from Uvalde, Texas, and explains the important role the mule has played in the history of Texas, from the cattle drives to the days of covered wagons. Mr. Kuykendal shows his pack mules at the San Antonio Folklife Festival.

It's really pronounced K I K E N D A L, but everybody says K E R K E N D A L.

That's a German name, isn’t it?

You're a square head! [laughter]

That's right. That's the reason we have organized and called ourselves “The Frontiersmen of Uvalde, Texas.” To go along with frontiersmen, we figured pack mules would be the most appropriate things that we could bring to help show what we meant by frontiers. As old as I am, I know quite a bit about pack mules anyway.

Travis Kuykendal leading a mule train for the Frontiersmen of Uvalde

I'm sure you do.

Years ago they used to have as many as twenty, thirty, or more, one right behind the other, and they called them mule trains. They were packed; that was the way we moved all the supplies that they had regardless of what it was. Whether it was guns, ammunition, gunpowder, horseshoes, clothes, food, or whatever, they were moved on muleback.

A man in Brownsville, Texas, in a wagon led by a pack of mules, 1907

During that time the man that handled the mules, they called him muleskinner because mules are a little hardheaded like these square-headed Dutchmen. My mules that come in, they're all about half Irish; they're hardheaded, and I give 'em all Irish names.

You named them!

Yes. The muleskinner had a whip or a big, long strap of leather, a line, and he could throw that line (they called it "throwin' a line") and POP! He could pop the hair off those mules. That was skinnin' a mule.

That's where the term came from! I didn't know that.

So, after that you hired somebody to pack your mules, and you hired a muleskinner. That's where the name originated.

The way they jerked the line, they could almost take the hair off the mule. I couldn't do it; I don't know how.

Normally, what was in a mule train? How many mules?

Well, long time ago, the way I've studied it, normally it was about twenty mules.

A brand of laundry detergent with “20 Mule Team” as part of their name

Yes. I think that's where the 20 Mule Team Borax ad came from. Originally they used about twenty mules in a mule train. However, they weren’t hitched up to a wagon way back then. One right behind the other, each one of 'em. Most of the time, they didn't have to put a line on those mules at all. They had one mule in the lead with a bell on, and all of those others would follow him; they taught 'em to follow. So here they'd come—be one mule right behind the other, and they called it a mule train.

Where is the muleskinner? He's at the back?

Well, he might be at the back; he might be at the front. Generally there were always two men. One went towards the lead, and he led the bell mare, as they called it. And all these mules just followed along behind, just like they were—

A bell mare. A mare is not a mule?

No, not necessarily. However, sometimes it would be a mule, but a lot of times it would be an old bell mare.

Really?

Yes. Female horse.

For instance, you have a mule leading this pack train—what do you call a bunch of mules? A herd? A flock?

You call 'em a team of mules mostly. Then you can have a two-up team, four-up team, six-up team.

Two-up?

Yes. As many as you want, but, if you have four mules, you call it a four-up.

I wonder why they call it "up?”

Well, it's another one of those old terms that those people started a long time ago that nobody knows about. Just like the pack on the mule back, originally they didn't have packsaddles. Now we have packsaddles that make it a lot easier to pack the mule. The original muleskinners didn't have packsaddles. They just put the pack on there, and they'd take rope, and, when they got through tyin' it—they didn't say tyin' it, they'd say, "We throwed a diamond hitch on it." The diamond hitch, the way they had that hitched, it was a diamond up here on top. It helped the cargo from moving in any direction by holding it on the mule's back. And they said, we throwed a diamond hitch on—well, load 'em up, throw a diamond hitch on each one of 'em so we won't lose a load.

You don't know where the two-up and the four-up came from?

Well, now, that's when you start puttin' the harness on 'em and workin' 'em. If it was two mules, it was a team of mules. If it was four mules, it was still a team, but it was a four-up team, and, if it was six mules, a six-up team. Or eight mules, it was an eight-up team. I don't know where the “up” started from.

A team of mules pulling a wagon at the 1980 Texas Folklife Festival

Part of the mule vocabulary. You have a whole bunch of mules together, does one stand out as a leader? How do you pick leaders?

Yes, ma'am. Most of the time, it creates leadership itself. The one that can whip all the rest of 'em is the leader.

Oh?

In horses it’s the same way. You have a big bunch of horses out there, and there'll be one horse, most of the time it's a mare, female. She can just whip all the rest of 'em, and they'll follow her. She can just take off on the run, and they'll all follow her.

But she—the mule has to prove it. Do they actually fight?

No, not actually. If one gets a little rambunctious in the herd, this leader just takes it on itself to be a leader. All of a sudden, they'll just go and whip the heck out of 'em. Just back 'em into a corner of the pen, if they're in a pen.

Yes, ma'am. And years ago, that leader, they put a bell on him. All you had to find was the leader, the bell animal, and take it in and all the rest of 'em would follow the leader.

Yes, ma'am. Most all the time. One reason is because years ago they rode shotgun. They carried guns because people would try to steal their cargo. It was very bad. Probably in bad country there were more than two men.

Were the men that were accompanying the mule train on horses?

Yes, ma'am.

They weren't walking?

They were on horseback.

Have I heard somewhere or other, or read, that mules and horses don't like each other?

No, ma'am. Mostly the ranch man, the owner, separates 'em. But they'll run together.

They will?

Yes, ma'am.

Not necessarily, no.

Just from experience—start in, and someone that was real good at packin' and tyin' this diamond hitch, why, he'd take on helpers, and, if they liked to, naturally they're going to take a lot of interest in it. It was a profession, like nowadays you send 'em to college. In that day and time, you just learned from someone else.

I suppose the thing was to get as much on a mule as the mule could carry and yet not be—

Yes. A mule could carry practically his own weight.

He can?

Yes, ma'am.

Without being hurt?

Yes, ma'am. Of course, that was a little bit heavy. They didn't generally pack 'em—but they'd look at a mule, and they'd guess, well, that mule weighs 700 pounds. They'd try to pack about half their weight.

Is that so!

So that mule would carry 350 pounds. And these old expert packers were experts at that, too. They could look at a mule and tell you within a few pounds how much he weighed, so they knew how much weight to put on there. Even in our military service, we had a pack train in the army. Had what we called a pack train. That's how they moved their supplies out right along with a regiment of soldiers. Even their stoves, they apparently packed on top of the mules.

Poor mule!

They figured that mule was big enough to carry that stove, and they'd put the stove up there and put a diamond hitch on it, and that was all there was to it. Away he went with it.

If you were a mule, you'd want to be darn sure that burden on your back wasn't going to slip.

Yes, that's right. That was the purpose of the diamond hitch. The diamond hitch, if the load got loose, why, they'd go back, and you'd just pull this one rope, just keep pullin' it, takin' up the slack on it. It pulled all together, and it formed a web, more or less. It just webbed [the load] onto the animal's back.

I'm glad I wasn't a mule! When they were going, for instance, on a long haul, say delivering ammunition to a fort out in West Texas, was there a limit on how many hours that pack train could travel?

No, ma'am, I don't think there ever was a limit. They just had to use their own judgment in that day and time. They depended on the weather, how many miles they could go weatherwise. If the weather was too hot, they only traveled so many hours, or they'd travel so many hours in the morning and lay up through the heat of the day, and that evenin' they'd go back out and travel some more. They averaged around six, seven miles an hour, something like that...

They did?

Yes, ma'am.

Yes. A slow jog. It was kind of natural for them to be in a slow jog. They could take a pretty big load.

Were the mules awfully dependent on water, like all the other animals?

They could go a little farther and longer than a horse. Not like a camel, of course. They're a tougher animal than a horse. I think they have even found in later years, they've crossbred cattle for probably a little bit more durable, prosperous cattle or thrifty cattle, I'd say, than the registered cattle are.

We read in Texas about the cattle going up the trail—the cattle drives up to Abilene and over to Kansas. Were there pack trains along with those cattle drives?

There were before they got the wagons, yes, ma'am. They carried their supplies.

There were?

That's when, I guess, when they began to have their two-ups and four-ups depending on…they might leave out here in flat country drivin' a two-up team, team of mules. When they began to get in rough country, they had to have some more mules. So, finally, well, they had to have four-ups, six-ups. The freighters, the freight wagon people, well, naturally it would depend on how much load they were going to haul—that's how many mules they hooked up to the wagon. That's when they began to make the two-ups, four-ups, eight-ups.

Travis Kuykendal with his mules at the first Texas Folklife Festival in 1971

The mule was a very important part of the development of Texas, right?

It was. It was very important.

You read about the horses and cows all the time, but the little mule was a pretty vital animal, wasn't he?

It's kind of like we talk about everything but the farmer. The farmer is really the most important person that's ever been in Texas or any other part of the world, yet he gets less credit. The mule was his main animal. Long time ago they had oxen, but oxen were slow. With the mule they could get out; they could plough; they could cultivate much faster with the mule because they were a little quicker-moving animal.

A team of oxen outside a store near the Alamo in San Antonio, c. 1870

Suppose you were short of money and you needed a creature to plough or carry something, would it be cheaper to buy a mule or an ox?

I don't know. I imagine it would have been cheaper to buy an ox because cattle were hardly worth anything. But a well-trained mule always brought a pretty good price.

Now, suppose you'd been on the trail all day and you're pulling in for the night. They unload the mules, don't they? They don't leave the packs on the mules overnight?

No, ma'am. They unload 'em and let 'em rest. Let 'em lay down, roll, and get some exercise—loosen their back up, I guess you'd call it. They don't lay down to sleep, necessarily, but they lay down to roll and loosen up their muscles and everything.

Are they grazers?

Yes, ma'am, they are.

They tried to get on the grass back in that day and time. Years ago there'd be a scout who would go ahead and find a place where they'd make it to that particular place that night. Then they could turn all the animals loose, put the bell on this bell animal, and either stake it or watch it, kind of herd it through the night. The next morning they'd get this bell mule, bell mare, and here they come, all the rest of 'em, come following. They'd catch 'em.

So they never lost any?

That way they could not lose any time.

Goodness, that mule's important! When we were talking up there in front of your booth…tell a little bit about the contribution you've made to the Folklife Festival. Tell about when you started, at the very beginning.

Well, we started the first Folklife Festival that was held here in San Antonio.

Twelve years ago.

Twelve years ago. There was a man, O.T. Baker, called this man—they were friends. We lived at Pearsall at that time. And they were old friends. He called this friend, and he said, "I wish you'd try to find us a team to come to the Festival." So the man came to me and told me…we had just had the centennial celebration in Pearsall, and I was parade chairman. We had the biggest parade. We had more western gear in that parade than they've had in years and years. We never had anything military; we got after it too late. All the military were busy; they had already set up to go somewhere else. So we had to build it from the country. We had some ladies even rode sidesaddle. And we had, I forget how many, wagons with mules and horses and buggies. We had a wonderful parade.

Travis Kuykendal with one of his mules at the Texas Folklife Festival in 1992

So Dolph Briscoe—that was before he ran for governor—he was our parade marshal. He rode a horse. Most everything we had in that parade was more or less western.

So this man came to me and said, "I know you know all about where all these wagons and everything are. Couldn't you find a wagon for the Folklife Festival?"

Dolph Briscoe, governor of Texas from 1973-1979, c. 2000

Well, I had no idea where the Folklife Festival was. "Well, we'll see what we can find." I remembered a little team of gray mules that were just real nice and gentle. He didn't have three. So I went and inquired from another ranch man who had borrowed 'em to use in the parade. And he told me who they belonged to. I said, "But I don't know that man." And he said, "Yes, you do. He knows who you are. If you don't know each other, you know something about each other. He’ll loan you those mules, I'm sure."

So I drove to Encinal, Texas, and Mr. J.B. Parker—[I] told him what I was looking for. He said, "I've got the mules." We talked awhile, and he said, "Yes, I'll loan 'em to you. You can take 'em and use 'em. That will be fine. I know all your family. I know all the Kuykendals over the country. I know who you are and what you are. As long as you're going to take care of the mules, I'll let you have 'em."

That was about a month before they were having the first Festival. So, when it got time, I went down there and picked the mules up, and we brought 'em to San Antonio Folklife Festival. No one else had a team of mules. There was a team of big old oxen from over East Texas.

I remember that.

Travis and his wife, Bobbie, at the Texas Folklife Festival

My wife and I brought those two mules up here. We stayed with 'em, and we ran, drove 'em with that cane mill.

Oh, you did!

She helped me. She drove part-time. I drove part-time. We made that Festival. Before the next Festival, Yancy Barnhart and me—Yancy had told me to buy—if I could find any mules or horses, he wanted to buy them. So, I found a pair of white mules in Encinal, Texas, and I bought 'em for Yancy Barnhart. We used 'em continuously up until— one of 'em died here two, three years ago. And then the other one got crippled here three or four years ago. A very dear friend of mine from Pearsall, Texas, Johnny Beal, called me, and I found another mule. It was a white mule. So we brought it to the Festival, and they used it.

Still in the cane mill?

Yes. The next year their mule was well again, so we used him. Old Jack. Last year they used him, but this year he's played out. Don't know whether he's sick or crippled or what. So, Johnny called me again. He said, "Compadre, we need another mule."

You were the mule guy!

"We need an extra mule." "I'll find one somewhere. I'll try." And he said, "Well, I'll be trying." He found a mule that was so wild, so unruly, that we never could get him tamed down, so he called me again the other day, and I said, "I'll bring Old Mike." He's not a mule. He's a big old donkey that I own.

What's the difference between a mule and a donkey?

A mule is half donkey and half horse. A donkey is just a donkey.

He's a species by himself. I never could get that straight.

To get a mule, you have to cross a horse and a donkey. Now, some people say it has to be a male donkey and a female horse. But it doesn't have to be, necessarily. It can be the other way.

Oh, it can?

Yes, ma'am. But, most of the time, it is a male donkey and a female horse, the biggest part of the mules. But occasionally you'll have some that's been reversed.

You have a fondness for mules, don't you?

Yes. I have a fondness for animals. Horses or mules. I raise a few quarter horses. I have a few registered quarter horses. I have about four mares, registered mares. And I have a registered stud horse.

Have you been at the Institute of Texan Cultures all this time?

I've been here a long time. I was in the very first Folklife Festival. Right out there in the Mexican Market. I've been taping interviews at the Festival for four years.

You know, the first one we had, we went out what they called the tunnel, and that was where we had the cane mill set up. Do you remember that?

No.

What are you doing with the mules this year?

We have pack mules now.

You've got pack mules?

Yes, ma'am.

Yes. We tell them before we had all these modern conveniences, like the eighteen-wheelers and cargo planes and trains and big things to move cargo, we used to have mules. Our ancestors used mules.

What date do you put on this? On the mule train? 1880 and something?

It was probably earlier than that when they started the mule trains. They still use 'em in Mexico in the mines. They'll have ten or fifteen mules in a pack train, loaded with ore. They keep some of those mules in there so long that, when they come out into the sun, they can't see.

I know. I've read that. They're not using mules much anymore, are they?

No, ma'am.

On ranches?

No. Well, mules are gettin' popular again. Now they're even havin' mule races. In Del Rio they have mule races all year. Three or four years ago, I don't remember what it was—I believe it was the first mule races they had in Del Rio, where Denver Pyle, in the movie, he has a mule he calls Old Number Seven. Denver Pyle, he was in a show. It was a series on television, and he's an old man. The old man, the uncle on the Dukes of Hazzard, that's Denver Pyle.

All that hair!

Yes. Well, we knew Denver Pyle. We got to know him when they made the motion picture of The Alamo at Brackettville.

See, my wife worked in that movie. My youngest son was assistant to the casting director in that movie. So when he came in and came through Uvalde to go promotin' it, he come here to help promote those mule races at Del Rio. He stopped, and we visited with him awhile. And he gave us a card to take to the boy. But, anyway, he wrote something on the card, said, "Give this to Travis."

But that was the first year they had the mule races, so now it's an annual thing in Del Rio. They have mule races every year. I can’t tell you the date, but I think it's in April.

Most of the time, "What is that? Is that a horse? [Laughter] Is that a camel?" We had the pack saddle on the mule, and it has posts at each end of the saddle, and a camel is kind of shaped like that. So he walked up there and said, "Is that a camel?"

I noticed as I walked by that one of the little mules has a Mexican wooden saddle on him. Is that a wooden saddle?

Yes. That's a pack saddle.

Well, you don't ride those saddles. It's to help tie the cargo to the animal.

It's not for anybody to ride?

No, that's not to ride.

It's made a little bit different from them.

Yes.

That's interesting. Did they get the idea from Mexico?

I wouldn't be surprised because the Mexican people are a very inventive people. In fact, one of 'em told my son one time, he said, "Why, we can get rich off of what you gringos throw away."

But anyway, that saddle is made specially to have something to hook your rope on to tie the cargo.

Helps to keep the pack centrally located.

Is there something under that so the mule's back is protected?

Oh, yes, ma'am. We have a good saddle pad under it.

We're very particular to put a saddle pad it under so it won't hurt, won't injure.

Do you find that the kids are interested in this old-time camp? I would think so.

They love those animals. They want to get in there with 'em; they want to hug 'em, kiss 'em. And they do. They'll get up there, if you don't watch 'em, they get over there close to 'em; they'll go up and kiss 'em anywhere on the face that they can.

Do the mules stand for it?

Yes, ma'am. They get aggravated before the day's over. You have to watch 'em because we're afraid the mule might snap at 'em.

Yes. They're tired, aggravated.

Do they have to stand like that all day long? And all night?

At night we take the pack and everything off of them.

Are they left there in the pens at night?

Yes, ma'am.

Somebody to watch 'em?

The police, and they do all right.

If we feed 'em, they eat good. Of course, they're gettin' sort of disgusted with the feed now because they're used to bein' turned loose. Where I come from, we turn 'em loose. Let 'em get out and roll. We don't have that much room here. And they'll get aggravated and fight at each other, so we are afraid they might get injured. We keep 'em tied, one over here and one over here.

You’ve obviously put so much into the Folklife Festival all these years—you think it is worthwhile, don't you? You think it's a good experience for people?

I think it's the greatest show in the world.

Yes, that's right.

So many little kids taking this all in. Maybe they're not saying anything, but they're going to remember a lot of things they wouldn't have otherwise.

One year we brought our grandson with us. He's now sixteen years old, and he still talks about it, what a good time he had and what he saw. He really enjoyed driving that mule around that cane deal and helpin' with the mule. All kids love animals.

They seem to, don't they?

Some kind of an animal. I think that every kid should have some kind of an animal.

Deputy Sheriff Travis Kuykendal of Val Verde County, 1952

A cat or a dog or a pig or something. When we lived in Del Rio, I was with the sheriff's office, years ago when our boys were little. People would come down there and say, "What have your kids got up there, a kind of a menagerie?" They'd even have a javelina hog up there. They'd have a bobcat, have a donkey, and they'd have a goat in the yard, playin' with it all the time. Our yard was a sort of a public place. Since we had two boys—there were no girls—all the boys in the country gathered at our house. Our house has always been a boys' home.

We had two boys. We don't get to see our grandchildren very much. Both of our boys are Federal Drug Enforcement agents. One of 'em is stationed in Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico, and the other one is now in Tucson, Arizona. The one in Tucson spent six years in Monterrey, Mexico. Then he went to Washington, D.C., and now he's in Arizona.

R.C. Metting Jr. (left) and Gus Rogers showing off their hunting trophies, a javelina and an eleven-point buck, 1936

The other boy spent about six and a half years in South America and then spent about a year and a half in Houston. Now he's in Guadalajara, Jalisco.

Yes, but the kind of jobs they have is dangerous. Having been a policeman myself, I know what's what, what they have to go through.

Do you think of anything else we need on this tape about muleskinners for future researchers?

No, not that I can think of.

I want to quit, but I don't want to quit. I want somebody to carry on, and I want to be here every time, but the work's gettin' a little rough.

You don't want to work so hard. I think you've earned a vacation.

I'm quite a bit older than most people think I am.

Travis Kuykendal when he was a border patrolman in Mission, Texas, 1946.

So far I haven't, but I'm trying. I want to keep on until I can get someone.

Have you got anybody in Uvalde that's interested in doing this?

Well, they don't want to work. And it is hard work. You have fun, but it's hard work and it's hot. The time the year it happens, it's rough.

It really is. But it's such a good thing. It's so worthwhile for the kids, particularly.

I think it's great, and I'm going to keep on trying to promote everything I can. If I can promote something else besides this pack mule from Uvalde, I'm going to promote it.

We had dropped out for two years, and we came up visiting. Ran into Claudia Ball. She had her feet in a tub of ice water. I think it was the last day of the Festival, and she was just worn out; her feet were swollen. She was sittin' with her feet in a tub of ice water. We hugged and beat on each other and greeted, and so she said, "Well, Travis, why don't you try to build something in Uvalde for here? We've never had any representation from Uvalde. Uvalde has a lot to offer."

It does have a lot to offer. The home of John Garner;¹home of Dolph Briscoe². Dolph was born and raised in this area. And I think he was one of the greatest governors we've ever had. And beside that, Uvalde's the place where Pat Garrett³lived at one time.

And it was the home of King Fisher,⁴who was the most noted outlaw and one of the worst outlaws South Texas ever knew. He was even elected sheriff of Uvalde one time; he had about 130 deputies, and they were all outlaws. Plus the Newton gang.⁵And Joe Newton is one of my group of Frontiersmen; he still comes with us. He's eighty-two years old. They got quite a picture of him this morning in the San Antonio Light. He doesn't do a whole lot, but he's very active. He's a good storyteller, very pleasant man, very nice. Although he robbed eighty banks and six trains, he's a very nice man. [Laughter] He's one of our gang. The reason I wanted to add this is to show it's not just the people who are working here that think this is a wonderful thing, it's all of us who are implicated at all. We feel like all of us, it's just part of our act here.

That is right.