Kip is a very good riding dog. He's obedient, reliable, and always stays with me.
There was, however one slip-up the other day.
We were on the long climb up Buck Creek Road, north of Absarokee. It's a long county road type of climb. On one section, this dumb couple of deer panicked and decided they had to cross right in front of us. The first one made it OK, but the second really struggled to pass us, and in the end all he could muster was a lame, panicked jump, right over Kip, and I mean right over. He almost nipped him.
Kip seemed fine, but it must have kind of triggered something, because a mile or so later, towards the top of the hill, there were more deer, small ones. They also panicked and scattered. Kip was off. It was seriously windy, so he couldn't hear my calls,
In slow motion, I watched as he tore ahead, across the endless snowy hills. He and the deer were doing a ballet like a cheetah and a gazelle. Kip normally never gets so close, something must have been wrong with the deer.
And then they were gone.
About a mile up ahead, in the exact opposite direction of where I wanted to go, he and the deer slipped over the horizon, going full speed the wrong way.
I stopped my pointless yelling.
What to do?
Going to chase Kip meant being out after dark without a light. Going home meant leaving him on the Montana steppe on a winter night ten miles from home. I waited. I ate. I drank. Shouted impotently.
Eventually I had no choice but to follow. Go get the guy, or at least shout for him. Give him a fresh scent to follow home.
After a mile and a half going the wrong way, I was at an intersection of gates and pastures. I waited again.
Here he came. Something was off in his gait. He walked like a wolf, all curved, tensed, feral. He arced around me in a big circle, knowing he was in trouble.
He finally sat down, panting heavily, back behind me a few meters, tail between his legs.
He lied down, belly up, peeing a bit, like he's always done when he's in trouble, since we got him. No use to do anything in that mode. Survival kicks in. It's primal.
But I did go in to get a closer look because I saw something.
His mouth was full of blood. I mean like he just drank blood. A lot of blood.
I couldn't look too closely, because he was fully peeing at this point, but I didn't see a cut.
Who knows exactly what happened. . . . . .
Maybe he ran into a fence. But I never found a cut.
Maybe he bit the deer. But there was no deer fur.
Probably he just bit his lip or something. But he did have this crazy look in his eye.
Whatever it was, it was a wild moment to be so far out in a winter sunset, on a snowy prairie, looking my dog's bloody mouth.