There are three magical and powerful creatures in Wickersham who have the power to instantaneously unbrain a mule—to abscond with his thinking organ—to turn him into a mindless atomoton, capable only of heedless flight. They are, in no particular order:
Motorbikes. I've been twice unbrained by motorbikes once they've stopped, then begun to slowly reaccelerate. The zipping-by kind of motorbike doesn't seem to harm a mule's brainfulness at all! Last time I saw a slowly accelerating motorbike, I whirled about and galloped for a hundred yards before my brain reinhabited its place inside my head.
Satan's chickens, also known as ruffed grouse, also known as rough chickens. These birds of the netherworld lurk silently until they are within beaking reach of one's precious hoofie, then unnervingly (and unbrainingly) rattle. No good shall come of it. Last time I heard a rough chicken rattling, I stampeded into the underbrush and was thorned by a berry bush, the surprise of which restored my brainfullness.
Satan's goats. These are called "dear" by the humans. The fathers have pitchforks on their heads. They only unbrain me when they stare . . . deer in motion are not a thing to worry about. Last time I was unbrained by a deer, FarmWife was on the ground holding my reins and was able to reinstall my brain with a bit of lunging.
FarmWife says that there are a good many mules who are not so spooky as me, Fenway Bartholomule, but this is what I think about them: they just haven't met the right unbrainer yet.
Ears,
Fenway
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