Vets Might Fly

by James Herriot

  "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
l sorts! How about

  some su candies! A couple o' bars o' chocolate! Let's 'ave some

  butterscotch en' all!

  Chin a beautiful slab o' Turkish Delight!" Then holding the bulging

  bag aloft triumph "ere! 'ere! Who'll give me a tanner for the lot?"

  Amazing, I thought as I moved on. How did he do it? I was passing the

  d of the Drovers when a familiar voice hailed me.

  HEY! MR HER RIOT! There was no mistaking Len Hamp son. He hove in

  front of me, red-faced and cheerful. REMEMBER THAT P/G YE DOCTORED FOR

  ME?

  had clearly consumed a few market-day beers and his voice was louder

  than ever.

  The packed mass of farmers pricked up their ears. There is nothing

  intriguing as the ailments of another farmer's livestock. 3 "Yes, of

  course, Mr Hamp son," I replied.

  WELL

  "E NEVER D/D NO GOOD! bawled Len., I could see the farmers' faces

  lighting up. It is more interesting still when things go wrong. is'

  "Really? Well I'm sorry."

  NAW"ED/DN T.AH VE NEVER SEEN APtG GO DOWN AS FAST!"

  "Is that so?"

  AYE, FLESH JUST MELTED OFF IM!

  "Oh, what a pity. But if you recall I rather expected . . ."

  WENT DOWN TO SKIN AND BONE

  "E DID! The great bellow rolled over the mar place, drowning the puny

  cries of the stall holders. In fact the man with; sweets had suspended

  operations and was listening with as much interest as others.

  I looked around me uneasily.

  "Well, Mr Hamp son, I did warn you at time . . ."

  "LIKE A WALK IN SKELETON E WERE! NEVER SEEN SUCH An OBJECK! ~ I

  realised Len wasn't in the least complaining. He was just telling me,

  I for all that I wished he would stop.

  "Well, thank you for letting me know," I said.

  "Now I really must off . . ."

  AH DON T KNOW WHAT THEM POWDERS WERE YOU GAVE IM.

  b/1 I cleared my throat.

  "Actually they were . . ."

  "THEY DID IM NO BLOODY GOOD ANY RoAD!

  "I see. Well as I say, I have to run . . ."

  "AH COT MALLOCK TO KNOCK iM ON T HEAD LAST WEEK."

  "Oh dear . . ., "FINISHED UP AS DOG MEAT, POOR BUggER!

  "Quite... quite..."

  'wELL, gOOD DAY TO YE,MR HERR/OT. He turned and walked away, leaving a

  quivering silence behind him.

  With an uncomfortable feeling that I was the centre of attention I was

  about to retreat hastily when I felt a gentle hand on my arm. I turned

  and saw Elijah Wentworth.

  "Mr Herriot," he whispered.

  "About that bullock."

  I stared at him, struck by the coincidence. The farmers stared, too,

  but expectantly.

  "Yes, Mr Wentworth?"

  "Well now, I'll tell you." He came very near and breathed into my

  ear.

  "It was like a miracle. He began to pick up straight away after you

  treated him."

  I stepped back.

  "Oh marvellous! But speak up, will you, I can't quite hear you." I

  looked around hopefully.

  He came after me again and put his chin on my shoulder.

  "Yes, I don't know what you gave 'im but it was wonderful stuff. I

  could hardly believe it. Every day I looked at 'im he had put on a bit

  more."

  "Great! But do speak a little louder," I said eagerly.

  "He's as fat as butter now." The almost inaudible murmur wafted on my

  cheek.

  "Ah'm sure he'll get top grade at the auction mart."

  I backed away again.

  "Yes . . . yes . . . what was that you said?"

  "I was sure he was dyin', Mr Herriot, but you saved him by your

  skill," he said, but every word was pianissimo, sighed against my

  face.

  The farmers had heard nothing and, their interest evaporating, they

  began to talk among themselves. Then as the man with the sweets

  started to fill his bags and shout again Mr Wentworth moved in and

  confided softly and secretly into my private ear.

  "That was the most brilliant and marvellous cure I 'ave ever seen."

  Chapter Twenty-five It must be unusual to feel senile in one's

  twenties, but it was happening to me.

  There were a few men of my own age among my RAF friends but for the

  most part I was surrounded by eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds.

  It seemed that the selection boards thought this the optimum age for

  training pilots, navigators and air gunners and I often wondered how we

  elderly gentlemen had managed to creep in.

  These boys used to pull my leg. The fact that I was not merely married

  but a father put me in the dotage class, and the saddest part was that

  I really did feel old in their company. They were all having the most

  marvellous time; chasing the local girls, drinking, going to dances and

  parties, carried along on v l ~ the frothy insouciance which a war

  engenders. And I often thought that if it h all happened a few years

  earlier I would have been doing the same.

  But it was no good now. Most of me was still back in Darrow by.

  During day there was enough pressure to keep my mind occupied but in

  the evening when I was off the leash all I wanted to do were the simple

  things I had done with Helen; the long games of bezique by the fireside

  in our bed sitter, the' battles on the push-ha' penny board; we even

  used to throw rings at hooks a board on the wall. Kids' games after a

  hard slog round the practice, but even now as I look down the years I

  know I have never found a better way of living' It was when we were

  Lying in bed one night that Helen brought up the subject of Granville

  Bennett.

  "Jim," she murmured sleepily.

  "Mr Bennett 'phoned again today. And I wife rang last week. They keep

  asking us to have a meal with them."

  "Yes . . . yes . . ." I didn't want to talk about any thing at that

  moment. T was always a good time. The dying flames sent lights and

  shadows dancing across the ceiling, Oscar Rabin's band was playing Deep

  Purple on the bedside radio Ewan Ross gave us for a wedding present and

  I had just pulled off unexpected victory at push-ha' penny. Helen was

  a dab hand at that game urging the coins expertly up the board with the

  ball of her thumb, her lips pushed forward in a pout of concentration.

  Of course she had a lifetime experience behind her while I was just

  learning, and it was inevitable that seldom won. But I had done it

  tonight and I felt good.

  My wife nudged me with her knee.

  "Jim, I can't understand you. You never, seem to do any thing about

  it. And yet you say you like him."

  "Oh, I do, he's a grand chap, one of the best." Everybody liked

  Granville, at the same time there were many strong men who dived down

  alleys at ~ sight of him. I didn't like to tell Helen that every time

  I came into contact wi him I got my wings singed. I fully realised

  that he meant well, that the whole' thing was a natural extension of

  his extreme generosity. But it didn't help.

  "And you said his wife was very nice, too."

  Zoe? Oh yes, she's lovely." And she was, too, but thanks to her

  husband s had never seen me in any other role than a drunken hulk. My

  toes curled under the blankets. Zoe was beautiful, kind and


  intelligent just the kind of woman you wanted to observe you staggering

  and hiccuping all over the place. In t darkness I could feel the hot

  blush of shame on my cheeks.

  "Well then," Helen continued, with the persistence that is part of even

  t sweetest women.

  "Why don't we accept their invitation? I'd rather like to meet them

  and it's a bit embarrassing when they keep 'phoning."

  I turned on my side.

  "Okay, we'll go one of these days, I promise."

  But if it hadn't been for the little papilloma on Sam's lip I don't

  think would ever have got there. I noticed the thing a growth smaller

  than a F - near the left commissure when I was giving our beagle an

  illicit chocolate biscuit. It was a typical benign tumour and on

  anybody else's dog I should ha administered a quick local and whipped