Short legs, big heart: Mugshot the mini burro does his first race

When my Mug shot and I reached the top of the steep trail, I don’t think either of us expected to see the enthusiastic crowd lining the streets. One woman recognized my short, scruffy running partner and began cheering, “Mugshot! Mugshot!” prompting a wave of others to join in the excitement.

Last weekend was our first race together at the Turquoise Trail Burro Race in the charming town of Cerrillos. And at that moment, we had no idea we were coming in hot in second place of the three-mile race.

As we turned the corner, I was acutely aware that thousands of cell phones were capturing our every move. I could feel another team was at our heels: an experienced donkey racer and her beautiful large burro were closing in. Suddenly distracted, my one-and-a-half-year-old stopped in his tracks to eat a fresh road apple. Really, Mugshot?

Luckily, a couple of tugs of encouragement and taps to his rear got Mugshot’s head back in the game. With only about 400 meters to go, I was relieved to be back in the competition.

It was as if I had stepped into the climax of a cheesy sports movie, where everything unfolded in slow motion.

You’ll notice that experienced burro racers have their burro in front of them, but Mugshot and I weren’t at that level. I felt a thrill when I crossed the finish line before the other team, followed by the abrupt realization that it was the donkey’s position that counted. My burro was still behind me. I looked back just in time to watch his tiny hooves cross the line seconds before our competitors.

When my kids pushed through the crowd towards us, they yelled, “You got second place!” At first, I thought my overly excited kids were confused. I wasn’t convinced until the results were posted. Over the last couple of months of training him, it became clear that he had potential but needed discipline. How could my little guy go from having training days requiring two people, one to push and one to pull, to achieving this?

At home, Mugshot is affectionately known as the lovable tyrant. He is always eager for cuddles and kisses from his people, but he constantly annoys the heck out of the other animals. He nudges our older and larger donkeys until they become so fed up that they chase him around. I’ve caught him sunbathing with his favorite goat, but I’ve also seen him nip the other goats on their backs for no apparent reason. Sometimes, he lowers his snout to the ground, pins his ears back and charges at the dogs and chickens. And that’s why he was actually my second choice for the race.

But at about a buck fifty, it’s hard to take him seriously. Of course, I find my mischievous donkey completely adorable, but I wasn’t expecting the level of charisma he showed to spectators. They ooh-ed and ahh-ed over him, took his photo and gave him snacks. I noticed my little Mugshot thrived under all the attention. He was on his best behavior.

People’s numerous questions made me realize just how fascinated people were by donkeys. In reflection, I realized that burro races aren’t just about competition and historical significance; they are also a beautiful display of the often-overlooked creature. The joys that burros bring were undeniable that day.

Mugshot and I are now gearing up to race in our hometown at the much-anticipated inaugural Magdalena Burro Stampede, which is coming up at the end of June. I’m unsure if our first performance was dumb luck or a glimpse of something extraordinary waiting to unfold. Either way, I can’t imagine a better companion by my side for this next adventure.