Counting cows and mules on the road


During a recent drive to the far side of North Carolina, I was thinking how interstates have shortened the distances between hither and yon. Speed limits have risen to heights that would have been life-threatening on the old two-lane highways.

Now radios, CDs and cell phones keep travelers entertained as otherwise monotonous miles slip by, but there was a time when diversion didn't come from inside the automobile. It lay beyond the roadsides, bearing evidence of varied lifestyles that were carried on before modern ways became commonplace and today's farm equipment replaced the ornery mule.

Speaking of mules, when did you last see a white one? Or traveling along some seemingly endless highway, did you play "cow poker" as you drove beside stretches of pasture? We used to see mules and cattle everywhere. Drivers and passengers became teams taking sides, one against the other, and whichever team counted the greatest number of cows on his or her side of the road within a designated length of time won the contest. The only deterrent was if a white mule happened to be in a pasture on the other team's side of the road. In that case the die was cast. A white mule automatically doubled the score.

Once a driver spotted a white mule way ahead on the passenger's side of the road. He quickly turned his car around and backed past the mule, thus doubling his count and being mighty lucky traffic wasn't what it is today, for fortunately no automobile was in sight ahead of or behind him.

Travelers crossing the piedmont section of the Carolinas, especially that of South Carolina, rarely saw horses pulling plows. Mules were better able to stand the heat, and their ears flopping through two air holes cut into the crown of wide-brimmed straw hats were common sights across the fields on hot summer days.

Busy summer days

Young folks living on farms never had to wonder how to spend their time. They knew. Corn had to be hoed; cotton had to be chopped. And children learned early how to do it themselves without damaging the plants. Having a baby to tend to was no excuse for not helping out. A mother said she used to spread a blanket on the ground at the shady end of a corn row where she could lay her baby and keep an eye on him while she worked. As each of her boys grew old enough to handle a hoe she put them to work in the field. They grew up knowing how important it was for each member of a family to do as much as he was strong enough to handle.

You don't see people out in the fields with hoes in their hands nowadays. You do see tractors plowing between the rows. And you see one person on the tractor doing as much as it used to take a whole family to do.

Something else is missing along the major highways through piedmont Carolina. You don't see windmills behind farm houses. They used to be plentiful, creaking when breezes turned them to draw water for country households. There used to be wells, too, underneath back porches, and buckets hung on chains ready to be lowered to clear, cold water. Many a stranger traveling on the old two-lane highways before air conditioning was put into automobiles stopped to ask for a refreshing drink on a hot summer day, and the request was gladly granted.

Whisking along today's interstates is a far different matter from the way traveling used to be. You can't really know how different unless you came along when the pace was slower and automobiles were less frequent on the old highways.

Louise Bailey is a native of Henderson County and lives in Flat Rock. She is the author of several historical books on the people of Henderson County and writes from a lifelong interest in the history of the area. Her lastest book, Remembering Henderson County: A Legacy of Lore, is available at Mountain Lore Books and Gifts on Main Street, Hendersonville.


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