Vet in Harness

by James Herriot

Mrs Dalby. -~

  "I'm afraid my cattle aren't doing any good, Mr Herriot.' Her voice wad

  ]1

  strained. ~; I grimaced into the receiver. "And the ones I injected ..

  .?'

  "Just the same as the others.'

  I had to face up to reality now and drove out to Prospect House

  immediately but the feeling of cold emptiness, of having nothing to

  offer, made the journey a misery I hadn't the courage to go to the

  farmhouse and face Mrs Dalby but hurried straight up through the fields

  to where the young beasts were gathered.

  And when I walked among them and studied them at close range the

  apprehension I had felt on the journey was nothing to the sick horror

  which rushed through me now. Another catastrophe was imminent here. The

  big follow-up blow which was all that was needed to knock the Dalby

  family out once and for all was on its way. These animals were going to

  die. Not just half of them like last year but all of them, because there

  was hardly any variation in their symptoms; there didn't seem to be a

  single one of them which was fighting off the disease.

  But what disease? God almighty, I was a veterinary surgeon! Maybe not

  steeped in experience but I wasn't a new beginner any more. I should

  surely have some small inkling why a whole great batch of young beasts

  was sinking towards the knacker yard in front of my eyes.

  I could see Mrs Dalby coming up the field with little William, striding

  in his tough, arm-swinging way by her side, and Charlie following

  behind.

  What the hell was I going to say to them? Shrug my shoulders with a

  light laugh and say I hadn't a single clue in my head and that it would

  probably be best to phone Mallock now and ask them to shoot the lot of

  them straight away for dog meat? They wouldn't have any cattle to bring

  on for next year but that wouldn't matter because they would no longer

  be farming.

  Stumbling among the stricken creatures I gazed at them in turn, almost

  choking as I looked at the drooping, sunken-eyed heads, the gaunt little

  bodies, the eternal trickle of that deadly scour. There was a curious

  immobility about the group, probably because they were too weak to walk

  about; in fact as I watched, one of them took a few steps, swayed and

  almost fell.

  Charlie was pushing open the gate into the field just a hundred yards

  away. I turned and stared at the nearest animal, almost beseeching it to

  tell me what was wrong with it, where it felt the pain, how this thing

  had all started. But I got no response. The stirk, one of the smallest,

  only calf-size, with a very dark roan-coloured head showed not the

  slightest interest but gazed back at me incuriously through its

  spectacles. What was that .. . what was I thinking about ...

  spectacles? Was my reason toppling ... ? But yes, by God, he did have

  spectacles .. . a ring of lighter hair surrounding each eye. And that

  other beast over there .. . he was the same. Oh glory be, now I knew!

  At last I knew!

  Mrs Dalby, panting slightly, had reached me.

  "Good morning, Mr Herriot,' she said, trying to smile. "What do you

  think then?' She looked around the cattle with anxious eyes.

  "Ah, good morning to you, Mrs Dalby,' I replied expansively, fighting

  down the impulse to leap in the air and laugh and shout and perhaps do a

  few cartwheels. "Yes, I've had a look at them and it is pretty clear now

  what the trouble is.'

  "Really? Then what .. .?'

  It's copper deficiency.' I said it casually as though I had been turning

  such a thing over in my mind right from the beginning. "You can tell by

  the loss of the pigment in the coat, especially around the eyes. In fact

  when you look at them you can see that a lot of them are a bit paler

  than normal.' I waved an airy hand in the general direction of the

  stirks.

  Charlie nodded. "Aye, by yaw, you're right. Ah thowt they'd gone a funny

  colour.'

  "Can we cure it?' Mrs Dalby asked the inevitable question.

  "Oh yes, I'm going straight back to the surgery now to make up a copper

  mixture and we'll dose the lot. And you'll have to repeat that every

  fortnight while they are out at grass. It's a bit of a nuisance, I'm

  afraid, but there's no other way. Can you do it?'

  "Oh aye, we'll do it,' Charlie said.

  And "Oh aye, we'll do it,' little William echoed, sticking out his chest

  and strutting around aggressively as though he wanted to start catching

  the beasts right away.

  The treatment had a spectacular effect. I didn't have the modern

  long-lasting copper injections at my disposal but the solution of copper

  sulphate which I concocted under the surgery tap at Skeldale House

  worked like magic. Within a few weeks that batch of stirks was capering,

  lively and fully fleshed, over those hillside fields. Not a single

  death, no lingering unthriftiness. It was as though the whole thing had

  never happened, as though the hand of doom had never hovered over not

  only the cattle but the little family of humans.

  It had been a close thing and, I realised, only a respite. That little

  woman had a long hard fight ahead of her still.

  ~_

  I have always abhorred change of any kind but it pleases me to come

  forward twenty years and spectate at another morning in the kitchen at

  Prospect House. I was seated at the same little table picking a buttered

  scone from the same tray and wondering whether I should follow it with a

  piece of malt bread or one of the jam tarts.

  Billy still smiled down from the mantelpiece and Mrs Dalby, hands

  clasped in front of her, was watching me, her head a little on one side,

  the same half smile curving her lips. The years had not altered her

  much; there was some grey in her hair but the little red, weathered face

  and the bright eyes were as I had always known them.

  I sipped my tea and looked across at the vast bulk of William sprawled

  in his father's old chair, smiling his father's smile at me. There were

  about fifteen stones of William and I had just been watching him in

  action as he held a fully grown bullock's hind foot while I examined it.

  The animal had made a few attempts to kick but the discouragement on its

  face had been obvious as William's great hands effortlessly engulfed its

  fetlock and a corner of his wide shoulder span dug into its abdomen.

  No, I couldn't expect William to be the same, nor Dennis and Michael

  clattering into the kitchen now in their heavy boots and moving over to

  the sink to wash their hands. They were six footers too with their

  father's high-shouldered easy slouching walk but without Williams sheer

  bulk.

  Their tiny mother glanced at them then up at the picture on the

  mantelpiece.

  "It would have been our thirtieth anniversary today,' she said

  conversationally.

  I looked up at her, surprised. She never spoke of such things and I

  didn't know how to answer. I couldn't very well say 'congratulations'

  when she had spent twenty of those years alone. She had never said a

  word about her long fight; and it had been a winni
ng fight. She had

  bought the neighboring farm lower down the Dale when old Mr Mason

  retired; it was a good farm with better land and William had lived there

  after his marriage and they ran the two places as one. Things were

  pretty good now with her three expert stocksman sons eliminating the

  need for outside labour except old Charlie who still pottered around

  doing odd jobs.

  "Yes, thirty years,' Mrs Dalby said, looking slowly round the room as

  though she was seeing it for the first time. Then she turned back and

  bent over me, her face serious.

  "Mr Herriot,' she said, and I was sure that at last, on this special

  day, she was going to say something about the years of struggle, the

  nights of worry and tears, the grinding toil.

  For a moment she rested her hand lightly on my shoulder and her eyes

  looked into mine.

  "Mr Herriot, are you quite sure that tea is to your liking?'

  Chapter Ten.

  Every professional visit has its beginning in a call, a summons from the

  client which can take varying forms ... "This is Joe Bentley speaking,'

  said the figure on the surgery doorstep. It was an odd manner of

  address, made stranger by the fact that Joe was holding his clenched

  fist up by his jaw and staring vacantly past me.

  "ello, 'ello,' Joe continued as though into space, and suddenly

  everything became clear. That was an imaginary telephone he was holding

  and he was doing his best to communicate with the vet; and not doing

  badly considering the innumerable pints of beer that were washing around

  inside him.

  On market days the pubs stayed open from ten o'clock till five and Joe

  was one of the now extinct breed who took their chance to drink

  themselves almost insensible. The modern farmer may have a few drinks on

  market day but the old reckless intake is rare now.

  In Darrowby it was confined to a group of hard-bitten characters, all of

  them elderly, so even then the custom was on the wane. But it wasn't

  uncommon to see them when they came to pay their bills, leaning

  helplessly against the surgery wall and pushing their cheque books

  wordlessly at us. Some of them still used a pony and trap and the old

  joke about the horse taking them home was illustrated regularly. One old

  chap kept an enormously powerful ancient car simply for the purpose of

  getting him home; even if he engaged top gear by mistake when he

  collapsed into the driver's seat the vehicle would still take off. Some

  didn't go home at all on market day but spent the night carousing and

  playing cards till dawn.

  As I looked at Joe Bentley swaying on the step I wondered what his

  programme might be for the rest of the evening. He closed his eyes, held

  his fist close to his face, and spoke again.

  "Hellow, who's there?' he asked in an affected telephone voice.

  "Herriot speaking,' I replied. Clearly Joe wasn't trying to be funny. He

  was JUST a little confused. It was only right to cooperate with him.

  "How are you, Mr Bentley?'

  "Nicely, thank ye,' Joe answered solemnly, eyes still tightly closed.

  "Are you very well?'

  "I'm fine, thanks. Now what can I do for you?'

  This seemed to floor him temporarily because he remained silent for

  several seconds, opening his eyes occasionally and squinting somewhere

  over my left shoulder with intense concentration. Then something seemed

  to click; he closed his eyes again, cleared his throat and recommenced.

  "Will you come up to ma place? I've a cow wants cleansin'.'

  "Do you want me to come tonight?'

  Joe gave this serious thought, pursing his lips and scratching his ear

  with his free hand before answering.

  "Nay, morning'll do. Goodbye and thank ye.' He replaced the phantom

  telephone carefully in its rest, swung round and made his way down the

  street with great dignity. He hardly staggered at all and there was

  something purposeful in his bearing which convinced me that he was

  heading back to the Red Bear. For a moment I thought he would fall

  outside Johnson's the ironmongers but by the time he rounded the corner

  into the market place he was going so well that I felt sure he'd make

  it.

  And I can remember Mr Biggins standing by the desk in our office, hands

  deep in his pockets, chin thrust forward stubbornly.

  "I'ave a cow gruntin' a bit.'

  "Oh, right, we'll have a look at her' I reached for a pen to write the

  visit in the book.

  He shuffled his feet. "Well ah don't know. She's maybe not as bad as all

  that.'

  "Well, whatever you say .. .'

  "No,' he said, "It's what you say - you're t'vet.'

  "It's a bit difficult.' I replied. "After all, I haven't seen her.

  Maybe I'd better pay you a visit.'

  "Aye, that's all very fine, but it's a big expense. It's ten bob every

  time you fellers walk on to ma place and that's before you start.

  There's all "'medicines and everything on top.'

  "Yes, I understand, Mr Biggins. Well, would you like to take something

  away with you? A tin of stomach powder, perhaps?'

  "How do you know it's "'stomach?'

  "Well I don't actually .. .'

  "It might be summat else.'

  "That's very true, but .. .'

  "She's a right good cow, this,' he said with a touch of aggression.

  "Paid fifty pound for her at Scarburn Market.'

  "Yes, I'm sure she is. And consequently I really think she'd be worth a

  visit. I could come out this afternoon.'

  There was a long silence. "Aye, but it wouldn't be just one visit, would

  it? You'd be comin' again next day and maybe the one after that and

  before we knew we'd 'ave a clonkin' great bill.'

  "Yes, I'm sorry, Mr Biggins, everything is so expensive these days.'

  "Yes, by gaw!' He nodded vigorously."Sometimes it ud be cheaper to give

  you t'cow at t'end of it.'

  "Well now, hardly that .. . but I do see your point.'

  I spent a few moments in thought. "How about taking a fever drink as

  well as the stomach powder? That would be safer.'

  He gave me a long blank stare. "But you still wouldn't be sure, would

  you?'

  "No, not quite sure, not absolutely ... '

  "She could even 'ave a wire in 'er'.

  "True, very true.'

  "Well then, shoving medicines down her neck isn't going' to do no good

  is it?'

  "It isn't, you're right.'

  "Ah don't want to lose this cow, the knows!' he burst out truculently.

  "Ah can't afford to lose 'er!' "I realise that, Mr Biggins. That's why I

  feel I should see her - I did suggest that if you remember.'

  He did not reply immediately and only the strain in his eyes and a faint

  twitching of a cheek muscle betrayed the inner struggle which was

  raging. When he finally spoke it was in a hoarse croak.

  "Aye, well, it might be best ... but ... er we could mebbe leave 'er

  till mornin' and see how she is then.'

  "That's a good idea.' I smiled in relief. "You have a look at her first

  thing in the morning and give me a ring before nine if she's no better.'

  My words seemed to deepen his gloom. "But what if she doesn't last till

  mor
nin'?'

  "Well of course there is that risk.'

  "Not much good ringin' you if she's dead, is it?'

  "That's true, of course.'

  "Ah'd be ringin' Mallock the knacker man, wouldn't I?'

  "Afraid so, yes .. .'

  "Well that's no bloody use to me, gettin' five quid from Mallock for a

  good cow.

  "Mm, no .. . I can see how you feel.'

  "Ah think a lot about this cow!'

  "I'm sure you do.'

  "It ud be a big loss for me.'

  "Quite.'

  Mr Biggins hunched his shoulders and glared at me belligerently. "Well

  then what are you going' to do about 'er?'

  "Let's see.' I ran my fingers through my hair. "Perhaps you could wait

  till tonight and see if she recovers and if she isn't right by say,

  eight o'clock you could let me know and I'd come out.'

  "You'd come out then, would you?' he said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

  I gave him a bright smile. "That's right.'

  "Aye, but last time you came out at night you charged extra, ah'm sure

  you did.'

  "Well, probably,' I said, spreading my hands. "That's usual in

  veterinary practices.'

  "So we're worse off than afore, aren't we?'

  "When you look at it like that .. . I suppose so .. .'

  "Ah'm not a rich man, the knows.'

  "I realise that.'

  "Takes me all ma time to pay "'ordinary bill without extras.'

  "Oh I'm sure .. .'

  "So that idea's a bad egg, ain't it?'

  "Seems like it .. . yes .. .' I lay back in my chair, feeling suddenly

  tired.

  Mr Biggins glowered at me morosely but I wasn't going to be tempted into

  any further gambits. I gave him what I fancied was a neutral stare and I

  hoped it conveyed the message that I was open to suggestions but wasn't

  going to make any myself.

  The silence which now blanketed the room seemed to be of a durable

  nature. Down at the end of the street the church clock tolled the

  quarter hour, far off in the market place a dog barked, Miss Dobson, the

  grocer's daughter, glided past the window on her bicycle but no word was

  uttered.

  Mr Biggins, biting his lower lip, darting his eyes desperately from his

  feet to me and back again, was clearly at the end of his resources, and

  it came to me at last that I had to take a firm initiative.

  "Mr Biggins,' I said. "I've got to be on my way. I have a lot of calls

  and one of them is within a mile of your farm, so I shall see your cow

  around three o'clock.' I stood up to indicate that the interview was

  over.

  The farmer gave me a hunted look. I had the feeling that he had been

  resigned to a long period of stalemate and this sudden attack had taken

  him out of his stride. He opened his mouth as though to speak then

  appeared to change his mind and turned to go. At the door he paused,

  raised his hand and looked at me beseechingly for a moment, then he sank

  his chin on his chest and left the room.

  I watched him through the window and as he crossed the road he stopped

  half way in the street in the same indeterminate way, muttering to

  himself and glancing back at the surgery; and as he lingered there I

  grew anxious that he might be struck by a passing car, but at length he

  squared his shoulders and trailed slowly out of sight.

  And sometimes it isn't easy to get a clear picture over the telephone ..

  .

  "This is Bob Fryer.'

  "Good morning, Herriot here.'

  "Now then, one of me sows is bad.'

  "Oh right, what's the trouble?'

  A throaty chuckle. "Ah, that's what ah want you to tell me!'

  "Oh, I see.'

  "Aye, ah wouldn't be ringin' you up if I knew what the trouble was,