where the magnesium levels in the body drop, resulting in the collapse and neurological signs that lay before me. The problem with treating an animal in this condition was that any stress or excitement could trigger a seizure and instant death.
The first thing to do was to sedate her, so I drew up a small volume of sedative and slipping the needle into the vein, I depressed the plunger. Gradually, the laboured breathing of the cow became more relaxed and even.
Now I felt a little more confident and fitted the bottle of magnesium to the flutter valve and inserted the wide-bore needle under the skin. I flicked at the value and watched as the air bubbled up into the familiar brown bottle.
With the stethoscope in my ears, I carefully auscultated the heart, waiting for the familiar pattern to return. By the time the bottle had drained in and I was ready to add a bottle of calcium, this time directly into the vein, the tips of my finger had become numb and I fumbled to find the vein in the thickened, hairy groove. The cow moaned slightly and I stood up holding the bottle as high as the flutter valve would allow, speeding up the flow. As I was bending down again to recheck the heart, from behind the bush, I could see two lambs capering around the hill seemingly oblivious to the near Arctic conditions. A distinctive black patch over the flank assured me that the larger of the two was Gulliver, but it was hard to believe that he was only two weeks old.
‘He’s as fine a lamb as you’d ever see, isn’t he, Tom?’ I said, turning to face my companion who was wiping at the stream of tears that were whipped from his eyes by the wind, forming a thin trickle down his face.
‘There’s no doubt about that,’ he replied. ‘But what do ye think of the one beside him?’
In contrast to Gulliver, his playmate was not much to look at. The tiny lamb looked no more than a few days old and was poorly built. I was surprised at Tom drawing my attention to her, but didn’t want to offend him, knowing how attached he and Mary were to their stock.
‘A bit of sunshine on her back and she’ll come onnicely,’ I replied, carefully, and wondered why my response caused Tom to break out in wheezy laugh as the stream of tears down his face thickened.
Before long I was happy that the cow was on the mend and we padded her up well with thickets of gorse to prop her into sternal position to allow her to get up more easily when the sedative had worn off.
Making our way back down the hill, Tom kept erupting into half-coughing, half-laughing fits and nodding his head wisely. I began to wonder if old age and harsh conditions were beginning to take their toll.
Mary had obviously spotted us making our way down the steep hill and was waiting at the back door to greet us.
‘How’s Bella?’ she called out while we were still quite a distance away. A thumbs-up sign from me brought a smile of relief and she hurried back into the kitchen again. By the time I had packed my gear away in the car and come into the kitchen for a wash, the table was set with a pot of tea and hot scones.
‘And I won’t take no for an answer this time,’ she told me firmly. Despite her dainty stature, I didn’t dare argue.
Although the couple seemed in good form, in fact almost giddy at times, I felt that something strange was going on.
By the second scone, Mary burst out, obviously no longer able to contain herself, ‘Well, what did you make of the twins up there?’
‘The twins?’ I enquired, puzzled, wondering which ones they was talking about.
‘Gulliver and Lilly,’ she said. ‘I saw you looking at them up there.’
‘Well, I was just saying to Tom what a fine lamb Gulliver is, but who does Lilly belong to?’
‘Lilly is Gulliver’s little sister,’ cried Tom, triumphantly.
I stared at them both blankly, wondering what had come over them. Although it was not uncommon for a lamb from a ewe with multiple lambs to be fostered onto a ewe with a single,
The first thing to do was to sedate her, so I drew up a small volume of sedative and slipping the needle into the vein, I depressed the plunger. Gradually, the laboured breathing of the cow became more relaxed and even.
Now I felt a little more confident and fitted the bottle of magnesium to the flutter valve and inserted the wide-bore needle under the skin. I flicked at the value and watched as the air bubbled up into the familiar brown bottle.
With the stethoscope in my ears, I carefully auscultated the heart, waiting for the familiar pattern to return. By the time the bottle had drained in and I was ready to add a bottle of calcium, this time directly into the vein, the tips of my finger had become numb and I fumbled to find the vein in the thickened, hairy groove. The cow moaned slightly and I stood up holding the bottle as high as the flutter valve would allow, speeding up the flow. As I was bending down again to recheck the heart, from behind the bush, I could see two lambs capering around the hill seemingly oblivious to the near Arctic conditions. A distinctive black patch over the flank assured me that the larger of the two was Gulliver, but it was hard to believe that he was only two weeks old.
‘He’s as fine a lamb as you’d ever see, isn’t he, Tom?’ I said, turning to face my companion who was wiping at the stream of tears that were whipped from his eyes by the wind, forming a thin trickle down his face.
‘There’s no doubt about that,’ he replied. ‘But what do ye think of the one beside him?’
In contrast to Gulliver, his playmate was not much to look at. The tiny lamb looked no more than a few days old and was poorly built. I was surprised at Tom drawing my attention to her, but didn’t want to offend him, knowing how attached he and Mary were to their stock.
‘A bit of sunshine on her back and she’ll come onnicely,’ I replied, carefully, and wondered why my response caused Tom to break out in wheezy laugh as the stream of tears down his face thickened.
Before long I was happy that the cow was on the mend and we padded her up well with thickets of gorse to prop her into sternal position to allow her to get up more easily when the sedative had worn off.
Making our way back down the hill, Tom kept erupting into half-coughing, half-laughing fits and nodding his head wisely. I began to wonder if old age and harsh conditions were beginning to take their toll.
Mary had obviously spotted us making our way down the steep hill and was waiting at the back door to greet us.
‘How’s Bella?’ she called out while we were still quite a distance away. A thumbs-up sign from me brought a smile of relief and she hurried back into the kitchen again. By the time I had packed my gear away in the car and come into the kitchen for a wash, the table was set with a pot of tea and hot scones.
‘And I won’t take no for an answer this time,’ she told me firmly. Despite her dainty stature, I didn’t dare argue.
Although the couple seemed in good form, in fact almost giddy at times, I felt that something strange was going on.
By the second scone, Mary burst out, obviously no longer able to contain herself, ‘Well, what did you make of the twins up there?’
‘The twins?’ I enquired, puzzled, wondering which ones they was talking about.
‘Gulliver and Lilly,’ she said. ‘I saw you looking at them up there.’
‘Well, I was just saying to Tom what a fine lamb Gulliver is, but who does Lilly belong to?’
‘Lilly is Gulliver’s little sister,’ cried Tom, triumphantly.
I stared at them both blankly, wondering what had come over them. Although it was not uncommon for a lamb from a ewe with multiple lambs to be fostered onto a ewe with a single,
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