Former soldier Rory McCormick, 51, was born and brought up in Thirsk where vet Alf Wight, better known as James Herriot, worked for many years. Now running a retreat in Peru, Rory’s childhood memories of the great man were stirred by the recent unveiling of a statue of the author. He shared them with Mark Foster

ONE day, when I was around seven, I came across a young starling with a broken wing and in great distress. I picked it up and walked to the vet's just around the corner. I was quite nervous about walking into the office, full of adults and adult things and I imagine that I looked somewhat distressed myself.

The receptionist called out to Mr Wight who took one look at me and the bird in my hands and crouched down to my level. "What have you got here young man?" he asked. "I think it has a broken wing Mr Wight," I replied. "Let's go and take a look at it shall we and see what we can do," he suggested.

So we went into his operating room where he worked his magic and the bird ended up with a splint on its wing. Mr Wight came down to my level and gently said: "It will be fine in a couple of weeks thanks to you. I’ll keep it here and make sure it is released when it is well again." Naturally I was pleased and went on my way.

Darlington and Stockton Times: LASTING LEGACY: Author Alf Wight, a statue of whom is set to be unveiled
CARING: James Herriot and one of his beloved dogs

Here was a man, a vet well known throughout the area and even better known as James Herriot throughout the English-speaking world. I didn't really know of his fame at the time but here was a man who took the time and care, without payment and in the middle of his busy day, to tend to a young bird with a broken wing. More than that, to tend to a young boy who brought this wounded creature to him.

A few years later, I was around 13, I was cycling to see a friend when I came upon what I thought was a black bag of coal. As I got nearer I realised it was a dog, a black Labrador. It had been struck by a vehicle and was barely conscious and bleeding from its head, dying. Spotting a farmhouse a half-mile distant, I left my bike by the side of the road, picked up the dog and carried it to the house where I knocked on the door.

After a minute or so the door opened, and the farmer stood there looking a bit surprised at a young man with blood on his t-shirt. “I need your help to get this dog to the vet," I said. The farmer came outside and I could see the shock on his face. It was his dog.

We put the dog into his Land Rover and when we got to the lane where my bike was I got out and said goodbye. Off he went at great speed and I went home.

A few days later I cycled to the farm to ask if the dog had survived. The farmer’s wife took one look at me, cried and gave me a huge hug. She took me to the sitting room where the black Lab was sleeping in front of the fire. "He’s going to be OK," she said and proceeded to give me a huge lump of cake.

A week or so later I was walking alone in the countryside and met Mr Wight who was walking his dog. I thanked him for saving the farmers black Lab. "Were you the young man who carried the dog to the farmhouse?" he asked.

He came closer and looked straight at me with kind eyes. "That dog survived thanks to you." he said. “You are the vet, you saved it," I replied. "Perhaps," he said, "but mine was an act of skill which can be learned, yours was an act of kindness."

During a dark and difficult childhood he showed me something important, something that matters and still does to this day. With all his fame and success he took the time and care to acknowledge and encourage the kindness a young boy had towards animals, towards living things.

He showed me that kindness and compassion mattered to him, that the kind act I had shown towards a creature mattered to him. In showing me this I felt it was OK for it to matter to me.

He was a veterinary surgeon who was trained but instinctively knew how to soothe and heal animals. More than that though, I realise it now, he was also a shaman because he knew how to instinctively soothe and heal people.

The people in Thirsk loved him not because he was a great vet, which he most certainly was, but because he was a particularly decent human being who had a care for, and an ability to heal, all creatures great and small.