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One of the highlights of pulling onto Kelly Ridge is seeing the mule standing guard at the first red barn on the left. I once stopped, rolled down the window and called to him. I was pleasantly surprised to see him trot over to the fence. I cajoled with him from the car for a little bit—buttering him up with sweet talk, telling him how pretty he is—and he kept coming closer, giving me the eye. I imagine that others stop by to say hello, too, and maybe bring him an apple.

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