Every Living Thing by James Herriot Read Free Book Online Page A

my own age, the father of a boy and girl who walked down that hill every day and then the two miles to the village school. He looked worried, but managed a grin.
    “Nice car, Mr. Herriot.” He gave the gleaming bonnet a mock polish with his sleeve, but, as was typical of him, that was as far as the mickey-taking went.
    I followed him into the little byre and I realised why he didn’t feel much like joking. The smile was wiped off my own face immediately as I looked at the beautiful heifer groaning and heaving, with an enormous muzzle just peeping from her vulva as she strained.
    No vet likes to see that. It wasn’t just a case of sorting out a malpresentation, it meant that a huge calf was finding it impossible to find a way out.
    “I’ve ’ad a go,” Ted said as I stripped off and began to wash my arms in the steaming bucket. “But there’s no legs—feet are miles away. I remember you tellin’ me once to push back the head to reach the feet but I’ve tried and she’s ower strong for me.”
    I nodded. He hadn’t much flesh on his bones, but he had a stringy power in his arms and I knew what he meant. “Nobody’s as strong as a big beast like that, Ted.”
    “And all the time I’m wonderin’ if t’calf’s still alive. He’s been squeezed in there for a hell of a long time.”
    That was my worry, too. I soaped my arm and pushed a hand into the vulva alongside the massive head, but as I reached for the shoulder Clover gave another heave and my arm was trapped agonisingly for a few seconds.
    “That’s no good,” I gasped. “There’s not an inch of room in there. I’ll try my luck with the head.”
    I put my hand against the muzzle and pushed steadily, leaning hard as the head went back a few inches. That was as far as I got. Another mighty expulsive effort from the heifer sent me back where I started.
    I began to wash my hands and arms again. “It’s impossible, Ted. That calf won’t come out till we bring the feet round and there’s simply no way of reaching those feet. She’s a big, powerful heifer and we can’t win pushing against her.”
    “Oh, ’ell!” He looked at me wide-eyed. “What do we do, then? Caesarean? That’s a big job!”
    “Maybe not,” I said. “I’ve got another trick up my sleeve.”
    I was out to the car and back again in a few moments with a syringe and local anaesthetic. “Grab the tail, Ted,” I said, “and move it up and down like a pump handle. That’s the way.” I felt for the epidural space between the vertebrae and injected 10 c.c.’s, then I stood back and watched.
    I hadn’t long to wait. In less than a minute Clover began to relax as though her troubles were over. Ted pointed at her. “Look at that, she’s stopped strainin’!”
    “She can’t strain, now,” I said. “She’s had a spinal anaesthetic and she can’t feel a thing back there. In fact she really doesn’t know what’s going on.”
    “So if she can’t push against us we can maybe get the head back inside?”
    “That’s the idea.” Another soaping of my arm and I pressed my palm against the broad muzzle, and oh, it was lovely to feel the head and neck and the whole calf moving away from me with no sign of resistance. There was room then to pass a noose inside and snare a foot and then another till I had two cloven hooves showing at the vulva. I grasped one in each hand and as I leaned back, the calf’s muzzle reappeared and to my great relief I saw a twitching of the nostrils.
    I laughed. “This calf’s alive, Ted.”
    “Oh, thank God for that,” Ted said, blowing out his cheeks. “We can get on wi’ the job now, can’t we?”
    “Yes, but there’s just one snag. Because she’s unable to strain she can’t help us. We’ll have to do everything ourselves.”
    It was still a very tight squeeze and we had half an hour of careful pulling on the legs and head and frequent application of lubricating jelly. We soon began to sweat but Clover was totally unconcerned and