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Little wisps of mist were still drifting across the hilly fields as I started out to fetch the cows for early milking. The sun was struggling to rise above the morning fog in the distance and the dawn light was the grayish- white that made everything look wet, somber and a bit spooky. My feet left tracks in the wet grass as I walked up the hill toward the grazing field; the only sound the squishing thud my shoes made on the wet ground.
I had gone only half the distance when I noticed that my dog, Kit, hadn’t made an appearance yet. She usually accompanied me in the morning as we both, I think, enjoyed the peaceful solitude of this particular chore. I gave a loud whistle just in case Kit hadn’t realized I’d left and was still waiting in the barnyard. I was surprised when I heard an answering bark coming from ahead of me instead of from the direction of the farm. It also wasn’t Kit’s usual “I’m coming” greeting but more of a distressed bark and I thought that I’d heard a note of warning in it. I waited a moment, but no Kit came running towards me.
It was so odd and unlike our normal morning ritual that I started to hurry as fast as the slippery grass would allow. Again I whistled, and again no Kit, just that strangely off-kilter answering bark. I reached the top of the rise and looked toward the field, but all I could see were a dozen cows milling around in a circle, but no sign of Kit. Then, in the deeper grass I made out her shape or what I thought was her shape, but as I slipped and slid down the slope the shape rose and moving away from me and started to run slowly towards a copse of trees. Suddenly, several other shapes also rose and moved swiftly after the first.
“My God”, I thought, “Those are coyotes” and then instantly wondered where Kit was. I pictured her lying somewhere in the grass wounded after a fight with the coyotes. Kit was a border collie and while feisty she was not very big and would not fare well against several coyotes at once. Scanning the grass as well as I could in the gray misty light all I could see were the cows still milling around in a circle. I ran to the closest ones, swatting them aside so I could see what lay within the circle of cows.
What met my eyes was a wonderfully strange sight. There was Kit, standing guard over a newborn calf trying vainly to struggle to its feet. As I was still trying to comprehend the calf and a seemingly unhurt dog, Kit broke away and charged after the two cows I had shooed away. She nipped at their heels until they had moved back into the position I found them. While I gazed in astonishment, Kit circled all of the cows, herding back into a circle one or two that had strayed a few feet. She then returned to the calf and gave it a lick. The mother was lying a short distance away and even in the dim morning light I could see that she was exhausted and sick.
The story was easy to read from the trampled grass and the presence of the coyotes. They had run the pregnant cow until she had gone into labor and then waited for a chance to attack the unprotected newborn. It had been another mild winter and coyotes had really multiplied in the past two years. They had become less fearful and more aggressive in their hunting behavior. The behavior I thought strange was Kit’s. She had obviously found the calf and sick mother and somehow realizing that she was outnumbered, she had forced the other cows into a protective circle around the helpless ones. Heaven only knew how long she had held the circle in place waiting for help to come.
I tied my sweater around Kit’s neck and sent her back to the farm, knowing that the sweater would bring my Dad running. After he arrived and examined mother and calf, I told him what I had seen. We both felt that what Kit had managed to carry out on her own was indeed a strange and marvelous thing, especially as she is a pet and not a working farm dog. For as long as I live I will remember Kit and the way she performed a miracle in the morning.
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