"I doubt she's 'ad it," Mr Birtwhistle muttered.
Cow's hind feet are difficult to lift, but today I didn't need any help
because Nellie had stopped caring. I examined the swollen digit. It
was now vast i great ugly club of tissue with a trickle of pus
discharging down the wall. ' I see it's bust there." The farmer poked
a finger at the ragged opening.
"B.
it hasn't given erno relief."
"Well, I wouldn't expect it to," I said.
"Remember I told you the trouble is inside the joint."
"Well, these things 'appen," he replied.
"Ah might as well telephone to Mallock. She's hardly givin' a drop o'
milk, poor awd lass, she's nowt but screw now."
I al ways had to wait for the threat of the knacker man's humane killer
before" I said what I had to say now. Right from the start this had
been a case for surgery, but it would have been a waste of time to
suggest it at the beginning.
Amputation of the bovine digit has al ways filled farmers with horror
and a4 now I knew I would have trouble convincing Mr Birtwhistle.
"There's no need to slaughter her," I said.
"There's another way of curing thiS. "Another way? We've tried 'arc
enough, surely."
I bent and lifted the foot again.
"Look at this." I seized the inner cleat and moved it freely around.
"This side is perfectly healthy. There's nothing wrong with it. It
would bear Nellie's full weight."
"Aye, but . . . how about tother 'orrible thing?"
"I could remove it."
"You mean . . . cut it off ?"
"Yes."
He shook his head vigorously
"Nay, nay, I'm not havin' that. She's suffered enough Far better send
for Jeff Mallock and get the job over."
Here it was again. Farmers are anything but shrinking violets, but
there was something about this business which appalled them.
"But Mr Birtwhistle," I said.
"Don't you see the pain is immediately relieved.
The pressure is off and all the weight rests on the good side."
"Ah said no, Mr Herriot, and ah mean no. You've done your best and I
thank ye, but I'm not havin' her foot cut off and that's all about it."
He turned and began to walk away.
I looked after him helplessly. One thing I hate to do is talk a man
into an operation on one of his beasts for the simple reason that if
anything goes wrong I get the blame. But I was just about cert ain
that an hour's work could restore this good cow to her former state, I
couldn't let it go at this.
I trotted from the byre. The farmer was already half way across the
yard on his way to the phone.
I panted up to him as he reached the farmhouse door.
"Mr Birtwhistle, listen to me for a minute. I never said anything
about cutting off her foot. Just one cleat."
"Well that's half a foot, isn't it?" he looked down at his boots.
"And it's ower much for me."
"But she wouldn't know a thing," I pleaded.
"She'd be under a general anaesthetic. And I'm nearly sure it would be
a success."
"Mr Herriot, I just don't fancy it. I don't like t'idea. And even if
it did work it would be like havin' a crippled cow walk in' about."
"Not at all. She would grow a little stump of horn there and I'd like
to bet you'd never notice a thing."
He gave me a long sideways look and I could see he was weakening.
"Mr Birtwhistle," I said, pressing home the attack.
"Within a month Nellie could be a fat cow again, giving five gallons of
milk a day."
This was silly talk, not to be recommended to any veterinary surgeon,
but I was seized by a kind of madness. I couldn't bear the thought of
that cow being cut up for dog food when I was convinced I could put her
right. And there was another thing; I was already savouring the
pleasure, childish perhaps, of instantly relieving an animal's pain, of
bringing off a spectacular cure. There aren't many operations in the
field of bovine surgery where you can do this but digit amputation is
one of them.
Something of my fervour must have been communicated to the farmer
because he looked at me steadily for a few moments then shrugged.
"When do you want to do it?" he asked.
"Tomorrow."
"Right. Will you need a lot o'fellers to help?"
"No, just you and Len. I'll see you at ten o'clock."
~next day the sun was warm on my back as I laid out my equipment on a
small ~ :: field near the house. It was a typical setting for many
large animal operations.
I have carried out over the years; the sweet stretch of green, the grey
Stone buildings and the peaceful bulk of the fells rising calm and
unheeding into the white scattering of clouds. Y It took a long time
for them to lead Nellie out, though she didn't have far to go, and as
the bony scarecrow hopped painfully towards me, dangling her useless.
limb, the brave words of yesterday seemed foolhardy.
"All right," I said.
"Stop there. That's a good spot." On the grass, nearby, lay] my tray
with the saw, chloroform, bandages, cotton wool and iodoform. I had`]
my long casting rope too, which we used to pull cattle down, but I had
a feeling Nellie wouldn't need it.
I was right. I buckled on the muzzle, poured some chloroform on to the
sponge and the big white cow sank almost thankfully on to the cool
green herbage.
"Kestrels had a smash in' match on Wednesday night," Len chuckled
happily, ~ "Johnnie Nudd didn't score but Len Bottomley . . ." ~j "I
'ope we're coin' t'right thing," muttered Mr Birtwhistle.
"The way she-] staggered out 'ere I'd say it was a waste of time to . .
." :~ '. . . cracked in a couple o' beauties." Len's face lit up at
the memory.
"Kestrel~ is lucky to 'ave two fellers like . . ."
"Get hold of that bad foot, Len!" I barked, playing them at their own
game. l "And keep it steady on that block of wood. And you, Mr
Birtwhistle, hold her head down. I don't suppose she'll move, but if
she does we'll have to ~give her more chloroform."
Cows are good subjects for chloroform anaesthesia but I don't like to
keep] them laid out too long in case of regurgitation of food. I was
in a hurry.
I quickly tied a bandage above the hoof, pulling it tight to serve as a
tourniquet" then I reached back to the tray for the saw. The books are
full of sophisticated methods of digit amputation with much talk of
curved incisions, reflections of ll skin to expose the region of the
articulations, and the like. But I have whipped:' l off hundreds of
cleats with a few brisk strokes of the saw below the coronar)ii: l band
with complete success. ~ l I took a long breath.
"Hold tight, Len." And set to work. .~3 For a few moments there was
silence except for the rhythmic grating of metal] on bone, then the
offending digit was Lying on the grass, leaving a flat stump from which
a few capillary vessels spurted. Using curved scissors I speedily
disarticulated the remains of the pedal bone from the second ph
alanx
and held ~t up. :~ "Look at that!" I cried.
"Almost eaten away." I pointed to the necrotic tissue~lt~ in and
around the joint.
"And d'you see all that rubbish? No wonder she wet: g~ in pain." I
did a bit of quick curetting, dusted the surface with iodoform, applied
< a thick pad of cotton wool and prepared to bandage. ,: And as I tore
the paper from the white rolls I felt a stab of remorse. In m
absorption I had been rather rude. I had never replied to Len's remark
about!^ ;.
his beloved team. Maybe I could pass the next few minutes with a
little gentle banter. '-~ "Hey Len," I said.
"When you're talking about the Kestrels you never mentioned' the time
Willerton beat them five nil. How is that?"
In reply the young man hurled himself unhesitatingly at me, butting 1
savagely on the forehead. The assault of the great coarse-haired head
against my skin was like being attacked by a curly-polled bull, and the
impact sent flying backwards on to the grass. At first the inside of
my cranium ~ illuminated by a firework display but as consciousness
slipped away my 1, sensation was of astonishment and disbelief. ~ I
loved football myself but never had I thought that Len's devotion to!l'
Vet in a Spin Kestrels would lead him to physical violence. He had al
ways seemed a most gentle and harmless boy.
I Suppose I was out for only a few seconds but I fancy I might have
spent a good deal longer Lying on the cool turf but for the fact that
something kept hammering out the message that I was in the middle of a
surgical procedure.
I blinked and sat up.
Nellie was still sleeping peacefully against the green background of
hills. Mr Birtwhistle, hands on her neck, was regarding me anxiously,
and Len was Lying unconscious face down across the cow's body.
"Has he hurt the, Mr Herriot?"
"No . . . no . . . not really. What happened?"
"I owt to have told ye. He can't stand the sight o' blood. Great daft
beggar."
The farmer directed an exasperated glare at his slumbering son.
"But ah've never seen 'im go down as fast as that. Pitched right into
you, 'e did!"
I rolled the young man's inert form to one side and began again. I
bandaged slowly and carefully because of the danger of post operative
haemorrhage. I finished with several layers of zinc oxide plaster then
turned to the farmer.
"You can take her muzzle off now, Mr Birtwhistle. The job's done."
I was star ting to wash my instruments in the bucket when Len sat up
almost as suddenly as he had slumped down. He was deathly pale but he
looked at me with his usual friendly smile.
"What was that ye were say in' about ""Kestrels, Mr Herriot?"
"No thing, Len," I replied hastily.
"No thing at all."
After three days I returned and removed the original dressing which was
caked hard with blood and pus. I dusted the stump with powder again
and bandaged on a clean soft pad of cotton wool.
"She'll feel a lot more comfortable now," I said, and indeed Nellie was
already loo king vastly happier. She was taking some weight on the
affected foot rather gingerly, as though she couldn't believe that
terrible thing had gone from her hfe.
As she walked away I crossed my fingers. The only thing that can ruin
these operations is if the infection spreads to the other side. The
inevitable result then is immediate slaughter and terrible
disappointment.
But it never happened to Nellie. When I took off the second dressing
she was almost sound and I didn't see her again until about five weeks
after the operation.
I had finished injecting one of Mr Birtwhistle's pigs when I asked
casually, "And how's Nellie?"
"Come and 'ave a look at her," the farmer replied.
"She's just in that field at side of "'road."
We walked together over the grass to where the white cow was stan ding
among her companions, head down, munching busily. And she must have
done a lot of that since I saw her because she was fat again.
"Get on, lass." The farmer gently nudged her rump with his thumb and
she ambled forward a few places before setting to work on another patch
of grass.
There wasn't the slightest trace of lameness.
"Well, that's grand," I said.
"And is she milking well, too?"
"Aye, back to five gallons." He pulled a much dented tobacco tin from
his pocket, unscrewed the lid and produced an ancient watch.
"It's ten o'clock, young man. Len'll have gone into t'house for his
tea, and 'lowance. Will ye come in and have a cup?"
I squared my shoulders and followed him inside, and the barrage began
~immediately.
"Sum mat right funny happened on Saturday," Len said with a roar of
laughter.
"Walter Gimmett was referee in' and 'e gave two penalties agin
""Kestrels what did the lads do, they . . ."
"Eee, wasn't it sad about old Mr Brent?" Mrs Birtwhistle put her head
on on side and looked at me piteously.
"We buried 'im on Saturday and. . ."
"You know, Mr Herriot," her husband put in.
"Ah thought you were pull in' ma leg when you said Nellie would be
givin' five gallons again. I never . . ."
'. . . dumped the beggar in a 'oss trough. He won't give no more
penalties.
agin ""Kestrels. You should 'ave seen . . ."
'. . . it would 'ave been his ninetieth birthday today, poor old man.
He w well liked in "'village and there was a big congregation. Parson
said . . ."
'. . . expected owt like that. Ah thought she might maybe put on a bit
of flP.
so we could get 'er off for beef. Ah'm right grateful to . . ."
~' , , ~.1 _ _ ~ ~ At that moment, fingers clenched tensely around my
cup, I happened to catch sight of my reflection in a cracked mirror
above the kitchen sink. It was frightening experience because I was
staring glassily into space with my features contorted almost out of
recognition. There was something of an idiot smile, I acknowledged the
humour of Walter in the horse trough, a touch of sorrow at Mr Brent's
demise, and, I swear, a suggestion of gratification at the successful
outcome of Nellie's operation. And since I was also trying to look in
three directions at once, I had to give myself full marks for effort.
But as I say, I found it a little unnerving and excused myself soon
afterwards.
The men were still busy with Mrs Birtwhistle's apple pie and scones and
t conversation was raging unabated when I left. The closure of the
door behind me brought a sudden peace. The feeling of tranquillity
stayed with me as I into my car and drove out of the yard and onto the
narrow country road.
persisted as I stopped the car after less than a hundred yards and
wound do, the window to have a look at my patient.
Nellie was Lying down now. She had eaten her fill and was resting
comfortably on her chest as she chewed her cud. To a doctor of farm
animals there is nothin
g more reassuring than that slow lateral
grinding. It means contentment a health. She gazed at me across the
stone wall and the placid eyes in the wh face added to the restfulness
of the scene, accentuating the silence after the ba of voices in the
farmhouse.
Nellie couldn't talk, but those calmly moving jaws told me all I wanted
know.
Chapter Seven To me there are few things more appealing than a dog
begging. This one tied to a lamp post outside a shop in Windsor. Its
eyes were fixed steadfastly on the shop doorway, willing its owner to
come out, and every now and the.
it sat up in mute entreaty. ~-7 Flying had been suspended for an
afternoon. It gave us all a chance to rest' and no doubt it eased the
frayed nerves of our instructors, but as I looked at the dog all the
pressures of the RAF fell away and I was back in Darrow by. ~ It was
when Siegfried and I were ma king one of our market day sorties t.
we noticed the little dog among the stalls.
veIn a optn
/S)
When things were quiet in the surgery we often used to walk together
across the cObbles and have a word with the farmers gathered round the
doorway of the Drovers, Arms. Sometimes we collected a few outstan
ding bills or drummed up a bit of work for the forthcoming week and if
nothing like that happened we still enjoyed the fresh air.
The thing that made us notice the dog was that he was sit ting up
begging in front of the biscuit stall.
"Look at that little chap," Siegfried said.
"I wonder where he's sprung from."
As he spoke, the stall holder threw a biscuit which the dog devoured
eagerly but when the man came round and stretched out a hand the little
animal trotted away He stopped, however, at another stall which sold
produce; eggs, cheese, butter, cakes and scones. Without hesitation he
sat up again in the begging position, rock steady, paws dangling, head
pointing expectantly.
I nudged Siegfried.
"There he goes again."
My colleague nodded.
"Yes, he's an engaging little thing, isn't he? What breed would you
call him?"
"A cross, I'd say. He's like a something else maybe terrier."
It wasn't long before he was munching a bun, and this time we walked
over to him. And as we drew near I spoke gently.
"Here, boy," I said, squatting down a yard away.
"Come on, let's have a look at you."
He faced me and for a moment two friendly brown eyes gazed at me from a
singularly attractive little face. The fringed tail waved in response
to my words but as I inched nearer he turned and ambled unhurriedly
among the market day crowd till he was lost to sight. I didn't want to
make a thing out of the encounter because I could never quite divine
Siegfried's attitude to the small animals.
He was eminently wrapped up in his horse work and often seemed amused
at the way I rushed around after dogs and cats.
At that time, in fact, Siegfried was strongly opposed to the whole idea
of keeping animals as pets. He was quite vociferous on the subject
said it was utterly foolish despite the fact that five assorted dogs
travelled everywhere with him in his car. Now, thirty-five years
later, he is just as strongly in favour of keeping pets, though he now
carries only one dog in his car. So, as I say, it was difficult to
assess his reactions in this field and I refrained from following the
little animal.
I was stan ding there when a young policeman came up to me.
"I've been watching that little dog begging among the stalls all
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