Elite response

Wow. I thought I died and went to mule poop heaven. Thanks to Joe Novak (Hungry Horse News, Speaking Out, Aug. 14, 2013) I can really boast to my horsey friends now. They usually give us muleskinners a good ribbing, but being called an “elitist,” I’m willing to hang up my Wrangler jeans and give Spandex a try. I’ll even retire my old beaver felt fedora for a baseball cap. (Of course, I’m a little self-conscious about the Spandex.)

I never thought supporting a little proposed wilderness in the Upper Whitefish Range would elevate muleskinners to such status. You know, we muleskinners really haven’t advanced all that fast on the evolutionary scale. Like the poet Paul Zarzyski wrote, “Did he cowboy, or did he caveman with Alley Oop?”

Most people think our vocabulary doesn’t go beyond four-letter words, and they’re probably right. It’s a good thing that our conversations with our mules are beyond earshot of most people. And it’s true, we still hold on to old traditions like rawhide, wood, leather, sling ropes and manties and occasional diamond hitches.

Hell Joe, I know I’m getting a bit windy, but you’re welcome at my camp fire anytime. Why, I feel like we muleskinners are right up there now with the Special Forces, Blue Angels or even the U.S. Forest Service’s own showcase — the elite Nine Mile Pack String.

Hey, does anybody know where I can find a pair of steel-toed Tevas? I don’t want it to hurt so bad the next time I get my foot stepped on.

Frank Vitale

Columbia Falls