ALTENBURG -- Tex and Sooner were in championship form. But everyone loves an underdog, especially if it's a mule named Skunk.
The thousands attending the East Perry Community Fair Saturday afternoon flooded the hillside overlooking the livestock auction ring to watch the annual event's biggest attraction the mule jumping contest.
Many came to see Skunk, the contest's perennial favorite who nevertheless is just too small ever to win. From hoof to withers, Skunk is only 46 inches high, a Munchkin, but most of it's heart.
Some people, one owner said, "find it hard to believe mules can jump."
They can. If they want to.
The mule jumping contest is exactly what it sounds like. Like Olympic high jumpers, mules attempt to clear a bar set at increasing heights until only a champion is left. Only mules jump flat-footed.
There are other endearingly entertaining differences. "Hazers" can pull on the mules, and urgently and loudly try to convince them to do their best. Hazers are not allowed to hit the mules or curse at them.
The thing about mules is they're smart. Unlike a horse, mules won't work themselves to death. Or eat themselves to death. When they see an obstacle they know they can't jump, they simply balk. Their reputation for stubbornness is earned.
But that's part of the fun for the crowd.
The mules competed in two classes: above and below 52-inches in height.
Tex, a 49-inch-high mule owned by Eilert Mahnken of Farrar, has jumped as high as 64 inches in his seven-year career as a jumper. He was the class of the first group of jumpers, easily clearing 52 inches to defeat Pete, who tried gallantly twice at the same height before giving up. Pete is owned by Mark Walka of Sedgewickville.
Competing against a smaller number of mules in the above 52-inch class, Sooner won for Sean Gray of Crump. "He'll be stubborn," Gray had promised before the contest. Sooner was.
Then there was Skunk, who also belongs to Tex-owner Mahnken. Long after bigger mules had quit, and all but hidden from view behind the chute leading to the crossbar, Skunk still kicked himself over the crossbar while the crowd whooped.
Skunk finally couldn't make it over at 48 inches, 2 inches above his height. The Skunk-lovers cheered.
"I guess more people know me for Skunk than know me for myself," said Mahnken, whose other mules have won many championships in the contest at this fair and others around the area.
He says there's no training a mule to jump. "I think they jump by nature. The ones that can jump do; the ones that can't won't."
The offspring of a male donkey and a female horse, mules are bred for a variety of purposes. These are purposefully small but are still big enough for riding and are preferred to horses by some.
Mule jumping contests are rooted in practicality. Many coon hunters ride mules, and they encounter fences in the dark. It was only natural for the hunters sitting around the campfire to create a contest.
And make up stories about their favorites. John Muench, who helps haze Mahnken's mules, said Skunk was raised by a family of skunks after being abandoned by his mother. Thus the name. You can almost see the Skunk-loving grins breaking out all around the campfire.
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