'Dogs and ponies and steers, oh my!'

My recent request for strange and weird tales of the outdoors from readers was met with few responses.

But what they’ve lacked in quantity, they’ve more than made up for in quality.

Case in point: A finely told story from reader Kim Van Sickler about an unusual hike along the Appalachian Trail in Virginia a decade or so ago.

Here’s the story, with some of Kim’s vivid passages included:

Kim and her husband, Steve, were three days into a hike on the Appalachian Trail, specifically, Route 601 from Beech Mountain Road in southwest Virginia to Fox Creek Horse Campground near Troutdale, Va.

While hiking through Deep Gap, the couple encountered a woman and her father along with their lovable little black-and-white terrier. After a brief and friendly conversation, the two groups went their separate ways.

An hour and a half later, Kim and Steve heard an animal trotting up behind them on the trail. It was the same dog they had met earlier. Thinking the dog’s owner must surely be close behind, they waited.

After a while, it became apparent no one was coming.

“A discussion about what to do with this dog ensued,” Kim wrote. “Steve wondered if we should turn around and try to catch up to the owner. Me, the person who was following a schedule and had a goal to pursue, argued against it. Who knew where the owner was now? We ultimately decided to continue our hike and try to find the owner when we reached civilization again.”

The Van Sicklers had no way to leash the little lady, and no dog food to give her, but she followed along faithfully. The terrier would wander off occasionally but kept finding her way back to her newfound friends.

Not knowing the dog’s name, they dubbed her Penny — because she kept turning up like the proverbial bad one.

“Of course, she wasn’t a bad dog; the name just seemed appropriate,” Kim wrote.

That evening, the trio reached Grayson Highlands, which is about 4,000 feet in elevation and is home to a thriving colony of wild ponies. The sun was sinking and the cold was coming, so they quickly set up their tent and ate dinner. Penny dined on beef jerky.

Then, she made herself right at home: “The temperature dropped quite a bit that spring evening and Penny was shivering so badly that I pulled her into my sleeping bag and held her. She liked that. We snuggled like we’d known each other for much longer than one day.”

But the night would not end peacefully.

As dawn approached, the campers were awakened by deep huffing noises from outside the tent. Whatever was out there was big — and close, “Like I could have reached out and touched whatever was breathing so hard,” Kim wrote.

Being the careful campers they were, the Van Sicklers had used a bear bag and hung their food a smart distance away from the tent the night before. Figuring they might be on the menu themselves; they decided to make a stand.

Steve grabbed his pistol, and Kim found a can of mace.

“We each unzipped our respective flaps to the tent. And then we each popped out of our sides with our weapons at the ready. (OK, Steve popped out, I sort of peeked my head around the corner.).”

They were greeted with a surreal scene.

Surrounding the tent and munching contentedly on whatever greenery was available at the campsite was a herd of longhorn cattle, accompanied by some of their buddies, the wild ponies.

Kim and Steve then proceeded to go about their morning business — coffee, breakfast, teeth brushing, striking camp — while the natives, unbothered, continued their meal.

As Kim put it, “we were in awe of the majesty of it all.”

As for Penny, she stayed with the couple the rest of the way. When they reached their car, which was parked at the Fox Creek Horse Campground, they found a flyer on the windshield. Penny’s mom was looking for her baby.

A quick call to the number on the flyer led to a joyful reunion later that day, as Penny — real name Peggy Sue — rejoined her owner, Meredith.

“Peggy Sue trotted off to Meredith without so much as a backward glance. We had served our purpose,” Kim wrote.

Thank you, Kim, for sharing your awesome story. And thanks for taking care of that strange little wayward terrier.