There was one thing, though, that made this hike different from previous visits. Her name is Bonnie. It's common knowledge to Old Rag regulars that there are a few dogs that roam the trail. Their owners are locals in the area and, although pets aren't technically allowed on the trail, they're left more or less to their own devices. I've seen these dogs before, but have never really interacted with them. As we began our descent from the summit after the sunrise, it wasn't long before I met Bonnie. Bonnie is a floppy eared, black and white Border Collie. She approached me at the beginning of one of the rock scrambles. I reached out to pat her, but she recoiled slightly - not in fear or aggression, but it was clear that she was not going to let me touch her. I took the hint and kept on down the trail. Bonnie followed.
Bonnie began to trot ahead of us about 20-30 paces and stop. She'd turn around and watch until I caught up before continuing on ahead again for a short distance. At first I didn't think it was possible, but it soon became clear that she was guiding us down the trail. She knew where all the trail markers were, knew the best way down the rock scrambles, and would always make sure we were going to the right way before continuing on. When we stopped for breaks, Bonnie would pad back to where we were and lie down patiently at my side, but she still wouldn't let me pet her. Every few minutes, Bonnie would pick out a stick from the side of the trail, drop it in front of me and wait for me to throw it. Some of the sticks she chose were either too big for her, some were twice as long as her, or were just roots of plants that she did her best to dig up.
Not only was Bonnie leading us down the trail, if another hiker got too close to us or tried to touch her, she'd bark and growl at them. She even lunged at a few hikers. She was fiercely protective. This continued the entire 4 hour descent. I'm not entirely sure why Bonnie decided to take us under her wing, but it was almost magical. Animal social behavior is always fascinating to me and to see in Bonnie behavior that is so distinctly human was captivating. I felt like I was in a Disney movie. When we got to the trail head, I wish I could have given Bonnie a scratch behind the ears and some beef jerky, but she disappeared in a flash. I suppose she saw us down safely and had other things to attend to. Shimu might be a cute lapdog, but I wish I could have taken Bonnie home. She belongs in the wild though.
On another note, a quick plug: One of my oldest friends recently launched a campaign for the National Bone Marrow Registry, called Cheekswab. He's been recruiting donors in the region through the site and drives throughout the area. The picture below is one I took of him giving a talk at our old church on Friday about how his circumstances have led to the creation of Cheekswab and a drive to combat illnesses like leukemia and lymphoma. If you have a minute to spare, please check out his or the NBMR site and register to become a donor.
