The Lost Calf

The snow showed the tracks of the dang calf going into the gulley.  Lord, they can be stupid.  What does that say about me chasing after him?

The herd was bedded down as the storm moved in.  One missing.  The runaway was my responsibility.

Night was coming.  A half hour before I had to turn back.  A half mile up the gulley, a tree had somehow managed to grow.  A drift was forming on the windward side, leaving a hollow on the opposite side.

The calf was getting out of the wind in that hollow.

I moved Blackie up next to him.  Blackie looked down with disdain at the calf, but blocked more of the snow, and shared some of his warmth.  Cow ponies are good that way.

No injuries to the calf.  Decision time.  Move this critter back to the herd, or hunker down?

"What do you think Blackie?" I asked.  "Move out, or ride it out?"

Blackie gave me one of those looks.  "Me you're asking?"

A wind gust broke an icicle loose from the tree.  It stuck into the drift like a dagger.  A message.

"OK Blackie," I said.  "Let's go for it"

The calf accepted a loose rope without objection.  Good thing.  He'd have gotten a good whack upside the head otherwise.

The wind and snow picked up.  The gulley guided me for a while.  In the open, there was no reference point.  No horizon.  Just white tending toward grey as night came on.

But a bright star appeared, visible even through the blizzard.  Turning toward it encouraged Blackie.  Even the calf picked up the pace.

We made it back to camp.  The crew had set up for a celebration.  It was Christmas eve.  Bright stars still serve a purpose on this wonderful night.