Readers got a kick out of mule tales

In his day Coly the mule was one of Charlottesville’s most popular animal celebrities.
He was a veteran of the Civil War and, after surviving that ordeal, found employment pulling a coal wagon. His employer was Robert P. Valentine, who among other things, helped supply the city with coal and wood.
The Jeffersonian newspaper kept local readers abreast of Coly’s latest humorous shenanigans. Apparently the mule was in a habit of manifesting some of the characteristics his breed long has been noted for, such as stubbornness.
Many people familiar with the critters, which are crosses between a horse and a donkey, say they have personalities similar to dogs. That is to say, most mules love attention and eagerly return the affection shown them.
One of the things that helped establish Coly in the hearts of many local folks was the fact that he was around for a long time. When he was sold in March 1881, there was some speculation that he could have been more than 50 years old.
Goodbye, Coly
The newspaper announced the sale of Coly, but didn’t say why it occurred. Considering the mule’s advanced age, it’s likely he was simply tuckered out.
Hopefully, Coly’s new owner turned him out to pasture to enjoy the last days of his life. What is certain is that the newspaper had to suffer through a period without any colorful mule anecdotes to report.
This changed dramatically in June 1881 when the newspaper happily announced that Valentine had a new mule. And it was said that it was “the mulishest mule that ever slung a hoof.”
The report went on to say that within two hours of purchase, the new mule had managed to kick his way clean out of his new stable. The outside corral stood up to the kicking onslaught, but the mule was loath to allow anyone near him.
Valentine hadn’t bought the mule to look at, so he was determined to put it to
work. With plenty of help, the fuel distributor managed to hitch the cantankerous beast to a coal cart.
Before the hitching took place the mule was simply mad. The indignation of being harnessed to a cart apparently made him furious.
The mule took off at high speed and, when a railroad flatcar stood in its way, he tried to hurdle it. The newspaper account said he cleared it, cart and all, but that seems very unlikely.
Whatever happened left the mule “bruised and bleeding” on the ground. The injured animal quickly was trussed up with ropes until he could hardly move a muscle.
By the time a summoned physician arrived at the scene a fairly large crowd had gathered. Assuming the injured mule was incapable of movement, the doctor set to work to stitch up its bleeding wounds.
The moment the sewing needle punctured the mule’s tough hide the animal erupted and round No. 2 was under way. The reporter writing up the event described what he saw.
“He plunged with gigantic efforts to his feet, ropes flew, spectators tumbled and rolled in the dust in one tremulous mass of struggling humanity. The mule, having overcome all opposition, was master of the field.
“Oh! Worthy successor of Coly we salute thee.”
But even this noble mule with its keen fighting spirit couldn’t keep the struggle up indefinitely. Its energy eventually flagged and, overwhelmed by sheer numbers, it was finally secured and its wounds dressed.
The newspaper had found a new champion to celebrate and, a few weeks later, gave readers an update.
“In his late unpleasantness Bob’s mule had a great portion of his rear hide torn from him, and his kindhearted owner undertook to apply a carbolic solution to the wounds,” the reporter wrote.
Considering what the unnamed mule had done when put into harness, Valentine spent some time mulling over exactly how to apply medication to the wound. He finally came up with what he thought was a safe solution.
A mop head was fastened to a 10-foot pole and then saturated with the medication. As expected, the moment the cloth touched the mule’s wound it set off another fit of spinning and bucking.
After this go-round, the owner probably allowed the wound to heal on its own. No more information could be found on the mule without a name.
Considering the animal’s aversion to cart and harness, it’s unlikely it ever became one of Valentine’s prize workers. Perhaps the best that can be hoped for is that it was turned out to pasture with old Coly … and they both lived happily ever after.