Kerri Powers: blog

When I was a little girl (well, those of you who know me realize I have actually never been "little"), I was crazy for horses and saved my babysitting and paper route money to go day ranching at Circle M Ranch on Saturdays. My two girlfriends, Dawn and Lisa would accompany me, our parents would take turns carpooling us to and fro, and we would pack a lunch and go for the entire day.

I had a favorite horse, Meacan. He was a feisty Appaloosa, cinnamon and white with a patch of white over one eye, just like the horses the indians rode in the old Western movies. I enjoyed riding the other horses as we couldn't always have our favorites and each one had something unique to offer. But there was just "something" about Meacan. He would look over at me and we would exchange a mutual look of appreciation. I felt in my heart he adored me as much as I, him. 

It was a cold and rainy Saturday but the ranchers were loyal and we all gathered for our morning ride. I was assigned to Blue, a retired trotter and gentle guy - rugged and sturdy he went along the trails, behaving like the good man he was. We returned to the corral and dismounted, heading into the house for lunch. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace and we sat around the fire, eating PB&J "sammiches" and laughing about the different horses. I remember thinking I had found my calling. I would move to Montana and have a ranch of horses and in order to do so, I would become a veterinarian. Seems the days moved more slowly back then - hands on the clocks moved more in accordance with us, not the other way around and slowly enough for one to consider afterthoughts.

The afternoon proved clear and almost sunny and I was elated to be assigned to Meacan. He looked my way and I gave him his usual treat, part of a Red Delicious apple. I would usually give the other half to Blue.

We rode along the trails, Meacan jumpy and all over the place and I loved the challenge. As we picked up our pace to trot he seemed particularly hyper and started to canter and rear a little. I managed to get him under control enough to continue for the first part of our ride. Upon our return, however; he spooked, took the corner toward home at full speed and I tried everything within my power to diffuse the situation and get him to slow and calm down. His head went down, hind quarters went up, and I found myself in mid air with full body slamming into a tree before hitting the damp ground.

The horse took off while two ranchers hurried to my aide. Luckily and rather amazingly I was only marked with a few scrapes and welts on my face and hands, but was filled with anger and felt betrayed. I believe to this day the anger was what kept me from being afraid of that horse. Here I was handing him apples and petting him; loving him up and giving him more adoration than I thought possible. Here he was, flirting with those doughy eyes and long horse-lashes, caressing my palms with his soft, felt-like lips and whiskers ... and then, boom! The SOB throws me and takes off.

Albeit a broken heart and muddy tears from the shock of the event, I was fine. I wanted to get right back on that horse and give him a ride he would never forget. I wanted to remind him his usual stash of Red Delicious apples was MIA - no more sugar for him for a while. I was an angry freckled hot head on a mission to get right with that horse.

But once I returned from the woods and saw him standing in a slant at the fence like a poor drunkard in a barroom doorway, it dawned on me he didn't just spook for no reason. There was something that perpetuated his actions. He looked tired and rather pathetic; worn and (despite my sounding a bit melodramatic), depressed.

We were waiting by the corral for our parents to come and get us and I remember reaching over the fence and giving Meacan a good stroke behind his ear, climbed one rung, leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on his nose and said, "see you next weekend."

To this day I'm glad I have the capacity and good sense to forgive. It's definitely an essential when it comes to learning to accept things in life as they come and as they are.