Vets Might Fly Read online

  "Did this start suddenly or gradually?" I asked.

  "RIGHT SUDDEN!" In the confined space the full throated yell was

  deafening HE WERE AS RICHT AS NINE PENCE ON MONDAY NIgHT AND LIKE THIS

  ON TUEsday

  MORN IN .

  I felt my way over the pig's abdomen. The musculature was tense a

  board like and the abdominal contents were difficult to palpate because

  of the but the whole area was tender to the touch.

  "I've seen them like this before," I said.

  "This pig has a ruptured bowel. TIT do it when they are fighting or

  jostling each other, especially when they are i after a meal."

  WHAT"S COIN' TO APPEN THEN?"

  "Well, the food material has leaked into the abdomen, causing

  peritonitis. I opened up pigs like this and they are a mass of

  adhesions the abdominal organs all growing together. I'm afraid the

  chances of recovery are very small He took off his cap, scratched his

  bald head and replaced the tattered headgear THAT"S A BUCKER. COOD PIg

  AN ALL. IS IT OPELESS? He still gave tongue at top of his voice

  despite his disappointment.

  "Yes, I'm afraid it's pretty hopeless. They usually eat very little

  and just waste away. It would really be best-to slaughter him."

  NAY AH DON T LIKE THAT MUCH! AH ALL US LIKE TO AVE A gO. ISN T

  THeir

  SUM MAT WE CAN DO? WHERE THERE S LIFE THERE S OPE, THA KNAWS.

  I smiled.

  "I suppose there's always some hope, Mr Hamp son."

  "WELL THEN, LETS gET ON. LETS TRY!

  "All right." I shrugged.

  "He's not really in acute pain more discomfort-I suppose there's no

  harm in treating him. I'll leave you a course of powder' As I pushed

  my way from the pen I couldn't help noticing the superb sl~ condition

  of the other pigs.

  "My word," I said.

  "These pigs are in grand fettle. I've never seen a better I You must

  feed them well."

  It was a mistake. Enthusiasm added many decibels to his volume.

  Aye! hP hr~llOWP~ YOT ~ VF ~OT TO ~TVF RTOCK A RTT ~ G.~n CrT IFF TO

  MEK

  DO RIGHT!

  vets Mzght l~ly ~y head was still ringing when I reached the car and

  opened the boot. I handed over a packet of my faithful sulphon amide

  powders. They had done great things for me but I didn't expect much

  here.

  It was strange that I should go straight from the chief shouter of the

  practice to the chief whisperer. Elijah Wentworth made all his

  communications sotto wee.

  I found Mr Wentworth hosing down his cow byre and he turned and looked

  at me with his habitual serious expression. He was a tall thin man,

  very precise in his speech and ways, and though he was a hard-working

  farmer he didn't look like one. This impression was heightened by his

  clothes which were more suited to office work than his rough trade.

  A fairly new trilby hat sat straight on his head as he came over to me.

  I was able to examine it thoroughly because he came so close that we

  were almost touching noses.

  He took a quick look around him.

  "Mr Herriot," he whispered,"I've got a real bad case." He spoke

  always as though every pronouncement was of the utmost gravity and

  secrecy.

  "Oh I'm sorry to hear that. What's the trouble?"

  "Fine big bullock, Mr Herriot. Goin' down fast." He moved in closer

  till he could murmur directly into my ear.

  "I suspect TB." He backed away, face drawn.

  "That doesn't sound so good," I said.

  "Where is he?"

  The farmer crooked a finger and I followed him into a loose box. The

  bullock was a Hereford Cross and should have weighed about ten

  hundredweight, but was gaunt and emaciated. I could understand Mr

  Wentworth's fears, but I was beginning to develop a clinical sense and

  it didn't look like TB to me.

  "Is he coughing?" I asked.

  "No, never coughs, but he's a bit skittered."

  I went over the animal carefully and there were a few things the

  submaxillary oedema, the pot-bellied appearance, the pallor of the

  mucous membranes which made diagnosis straightforward.

  "I think he's got liver fluke, Mr Wentworth. I'll take a dung sample

  and have it examined for fluke eggs but I want to treat him right

  away."

  "Liver fluke? Where would he pick that up?"

  "Usually from a wet pasture. Where has be been running lately?"

  The farmer pointed through the door.

  "Over yonder. I'll show you."

  I walked with him a few hundred yards and through a couple of gates

  into a wide flat field Lying at the base of the fell. The squelchy

  feel of the turf and the scattered tufts of bog grass told the whole

  story.

  "This is just the place for it," I said.

  "As you know, it's a parasite which infests the liver, but during its

  life cycle it has to pass through a snail and that snail can only live

  where there is water."

  He nodded slowly and solemnly several times then began to look around

  him and I knew he was going to say something. Again he came very close

  then Scanned the horizon anxiously. In all directions the grassland

  stretched empty and bare for miles but he still seemed worried he might

  be overheard.

  We were almost cheek to cheek as he breathed the words into my ear.

  "Ah know who's to blame for this."

  "Really? Who is that?"

  He made another swift check to ensure that nobody had sprung up through

  the ground then I felt his hot breath again.

  "It's me landlord."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Won't do any thing for me." He brought his face round and looked at

  me olU V t:L~ 1~1~116 I -Ly wide-eyed before taking up his old position

  by my ear.

  "Been goin' to drain t field for years but done nowt."

  I moved back.

  "Ah well, I can't help that, Mr Wentworth. In any case the other

  things you can do. You can kill the snails with copper sulphate I'll t

  you about that later but in the meantime I want to dose your

  bullock."

  I had some hexachlorethane with me in the car and I mixed it in a

  bottle water and administered it to the animal. Despite his bulk he

  offered no resistance as I held his lower jaw and poured the medicine

  down his throat. ,"

  "He's very weak, isn't he?" I said.

  The farmer gave me a haggard look.

  "He is that. I doubt he's a goner."

  "Oh don't give up hope, Mr Wentworth. I know he looks terrible but if

  it Quke then the treatment will do a lot for him. Let me know how he

  goes o' It was about a month later, on a market day, and I was

  strolling among stalls which packed the cobbles. In front of the

  entrance to the Drovers' A' the usual press of farmers stood chatting

  among themselves, talking business with cattle dealers and corn

  merchants, while the shouts of the stall holders sounded over

  everything.

  I was particularly fascinated by the man in charge of the sweet stall.

  He h up a paper bag and stuffed into it handfuls of assorted sweetmeats

  while he k up a nonstop brazen-voiced commentary.

  "Lovely peppermint drops! Delicious liquorice al