A Prairie Tale

Each year I dive deeper into the unknown natural places of Minnesota. Traveling in summer to parts of the state I know little about and intentionally getting lost. In summer 2019, I visited Blue Mounds State Park in Rock County, MN. Originally attracted to the buffalo and unique Pipestone cliffs, I was floored by the sheer beauty and magic of this prairie landscape. Here is a little excerpt from one evening of driving around.

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It’s getting late, but the sun is still beaming down. It’s around 6 pm and I’m flying down a country dirt road. The kind of road that is laid out on a grid, and where usually no one but the farmer travels. Cows to my left and long views to my right. CCR comes on across the radio dial. I’m here and that’s all that matters.

As I roll down this dirt lane, I see something appearing on the horizon. Now for a moment I thought this might be a mirage. It’s been a long sunny day and I’ve been hot on the adventure trail surrounded by a whole lot of nothing in particular. I keep moving forward at the same speed. Nope, it’s not a mirage, I can just make out a small brown thing about 1/2 mile up the road. Is it a rock, a fallen burlap sack? It’s clearly inanimate because it’s not moving. At about a 1/4 mile away, I slow down. Is that a dog? Again, no movement. I am about 30 feet away now and slow my vehicle to a stop. I can see it clearly now. I’m staring at a cute adolescent calf. And he is looking right back at me.

I kill the engine and get out. No one is around so pulling over didn’t seem relevant. I’m slow, but still, I don’t know why this animal doesn’t care that I’m there. We eyeball each other. He is just looking, not really at me now, but around him and he is terrified. His knees are bowed in all different directions, his coat is mangey, loose fitting, and he has a giant yellow tag on his ear. The tag is so huge I wonder if it gets caught on things. Still we are just staring at each other.

Finally I break, “hi” I say.

His head juts in my direction. Now, fully, well maybe 50%, he looks at me, still wide eyed.

“So how’s it goin? You from here?” I joke.

The tension of this poor creature increases. Okay, well, I think, looking around. There is a pasture right there, he obviously came from that herd of cows. Maybe I can help corral him back. So with precision, I move forward. So far so good. He continues to look sheepishly around me. I inch closer. “Very good,” I say. I’m about five feet away when he suddenly snaps into action with a full awkward sprint to the side of the road. He moves through a ditch into a nearby tilled field. Where he resumes standing.

Okay, maybe this isn’t my fight. But I quickly brush off that idea in a good Samaritan way and decide to help the local rancher. I slowly creep down the knettle-covered ditch and back up onto the field, and boom! With the coordination of a toddler on ice skates, this calf takes off south. Well, at least I tried!

Just before continuing along my way, I look in the rearview. I see my not-friend again, just standing in the brush. So I decide to make a call. But to whom?

Well I’m local, so I dial 911. After a quick explanation: “Hi, I’m in Rock County Minnesota out on 90th Avenue and a baby calf is standing in the middle of the roa…

Operator: “Hold on let me transfer.”

After a few clicks, a woman picks up.

“Rock County Sheriff’s Office, how can I help you?” The Minnesota accent is thick.

Me: “Hi, I’m out on 90th Avenue and a baby calf has wandered out into the road.”

Sheriff: “Okay, what color is it’s coat…. er, what color is the animal?”

Me: Tan, ma’am, big yellow tag.

Sheriff: “Ope, yep, that sounds like Jack Rogers’ herd. He lives out there and I can call him. Thank you for saying something. Have a great night.” Click.

Well that’s that I think, still staring at my new acquaintance in the mirror. Before I close my phone, I see a previous tab opened where I cleverly Googled: What to do with a calf that has strayed from the herd? I click it, impulsively.

Call a cowboy. What? I tab over and sure enough this is the primary function of an actual cowboy. O, duh! That makes sense. At 30, I just realized I had never considered the true function of a cowboy. They had always been a kind of rustic figure in my mind and about as useful as a unicorn, but hot! Well that’s today’s lesson, I think. The engine starts and I wave goodbye to the little guy. Of all my ramblings, that was surely unique.

I drive about 5 miles down this road and turn off. My destination lies ahead, Touch the Sky Prairie. I had never heard of it until today. As I move closer, I can see another car approaching with a cloud of dust. This Buick La Sabre is trailing smoke like Pig-Pen from the cartoon Peanuts. I slow and as we get closer, I notice this car is not alone. Another animal is jumping around the background. This Buick is being herded by a shepherd dog.

We get closer, I can see the dog is in his element jumping, biting, and smiling. Right when the driver and I wave, the dog looks at me mid bark. He stops, pauses, waits for me to pass in my Ford Focus, and just as my tailpipe is crossing his nose, he lunges. Fiercely, he jumps at my trunk, biting, snapping, barking, and leaping. I slow and just stare amused; this dog is the best, I think. Okay, you got me, I’ll get out of here buddy.

This continues for about 1/2 a mile until I decide it’s time to leave my friend. He’s far enough away from the car that I speed up and leave him behind. “Au revoir,” I say. I continue down the road, cross a bridge, turn left, and arrive a mile away at the parking lot for the prairie. As I’m reading the information sign, I hear a bark. I turn and see my furry guardian speedily making his way to me. Well, I think, I better be nice. He travels the whole distance, again at least a mile, and runs right up to me.

He is a sight, this black and white spotted heeler and husky mix is clearly a working dog. He has a velcro neon green reflective collar and like my calf pal his coat is full of mange. He studies me, then not threatening, sniffs and takes a whizz right on my passenger tire. I laugh. I move toward the groomed trail for a hike. Fido does not miss a beat and rushes in front of me.

As we continue along the trail, my new hiking buddy stops every 4 feet to lift a leg and claim his territory. “We get it!” I exclaimed, “This is your prairie.” At that, he stops and finally comes up to me, wagging. His fur is rough, but I pet him, while trying to avoid any ticks. Right at that moment, I stop and look out over the prairie. Dang, it is a sight. The sun is setting and the view is huge. Big Sky! Big Clouds! Big Views! Pastels of yellow and soft red blend into the blue and white cloud-filled sky. The sun is burning a halo in picturesque fashion as it is just beginning to set. It is for views like this that I make these solo trips. The magnitude and beauty of Mother Nature’s landscape is humbling. Taken aback, I move on.

Up ahead is the ending to this trail. The first tree comes into view and then around the corner, a stream. Like a fairy tale, there is a babbling brook with ripe vegetation along the shoreline. As we approach, my friend stops. His posture tightens and his ears become erect. He then promptly turns and marches all the way back to the nearest structure about a mile and a half down the road. A large barn and a farmhouse. I’m amazed. I look at my phone. 7:30 on the nose. Well, bye bud, I think. Thanks for guiding me.

I turn back to the brook and step in with my Chaco sandals. Everything about this moment is perfect. The sun is warming my soul inside and out, my feet feel cool, a light breeze comes across my sunburnt face, and I feel good. I sit back and reflect. Minnesota used to have 18 million acres of prairie and now less than 1% remain. These lands are so special and need to be cherished. The thought moves me to a sense of guilt, but something greater than me moves that aside. In that moment, it felt as if I was being told to enjoy the good in front of me. I pause, smile, and embrace the moment. I’m surrounded by nature in this prairie and was brought there by two friendly animals. My heart is full with gratitude to the highest degree.