Great poem by my good friend, Wayne McKinzey
Every Horse has a Story
Came down from the steep hills, an empty belly, half lost.
Cold mornings in the mountains, too little feed, too much frost.
Crossed our browning pastures, barely held a trot.
Eyed us from a distance, for fear of being caught.
But a hunger called him to the herd across that five-strand fence.
Beat a trail from post to post, a calling he could sense.
Five long hairless scars ran down each bony hip.
A cougar’s claws had him cold, just luck they lost their grip.
A mangy mane and knotted tail, more scars across his feet.
When across that field he fled, not another would he beat.
Every dawn he re-appeared, ate hay we tossed his way.
Then back into the foothills, where he chose to stay.
Two long seasons passed, around the pen he’d run.
And stop and spin and trot and lope, his training nearly done.
Another year under saddle, took me everywhere.
Across ravines and through deep streams, where others would not dare.
Rodeos and other horse shows, they shook their heads at him.
His stunted growth and coat of scars, not a chance that he could win.
We answered calls for ranchers, found their few lost head.
Terrain too steep for four wheels, needed four legs instead.
The worst snowstorm in March brought down a commuter plane.
High up in the mountains, rescue grounded by freezing rain.
Sheriff’s call woke us up, asked if we would try.
Terrain too rough for ATVs, the survivors would surely die.
An endless night an uphill fight, blind and freezing cold.
Those snow-covered mountain trails, a graveyard for the bold.
Found that plane in pieces, parts scattered through the trees.
His ears turned to a snow bank, heard “help us, help us please”
Saddlebags unloaded, survivors made warm and dry.
Lived in snow for two more days, when a helo could finally fly.
Every horse has a story; you never know what’s hid inside.
But every horse has a story; some are written on their hide.