Vet Among the Pigeons by Gillian Hick Read Free Book Online Page A

can’t beat it,’ I would plead with them. ‘Do it now and it will save all the hassle and expense later on. You won’t believe how much they will thrive,’ I would plead. ‘You won’t set them back at all in the autumn time.’
    Farmers that I would meet in passing at the local mart or in the co-op would equally be awarded one of my lectures . I was convinced I had gone too far, however, when after a tough caesarean at three o’clock one morning, I earnestly delivered my speech to the bewildered farmer, who was obviously too polite to point out that the calf was a polled breed and never would grown horns anyway!
    My final solution was to avoid the issue at all costs. It was amazing the excuses you could come up with if you tried hard enough. It was incredible how often the blades in the crange had broken that very morning or I had just used up my last bit of embryotomy wire on a difficult calving.
    ‘Sure, not to worry,’ the farmer would say good-naturedly , ‘you can do them when you come back in three days’ time to read the test.’
    When a call was booked specifically to dehorn, I would bargain with whichever other vet I was working with at the time.
    ‘Okay so, you dehorn the two bullocks and I’ll do your evening clinic for you tonight,’ I would offer, knowing that an hour and a half-long clinic would be easier. I got very ingenious, but I couldn’t get away with it forever.
    * * *
    I was right at the top of the Sally Gap one fateful day when I got the dreaded message – three to be dehorned in Laragh. As I was the only vet on call that day, it had to be me and I had been through every excuse in the book.
    ‘Listen, James,’ I said to the farmer on the phone, having introduced myself, ‘about those bullocks you have for dehorning today, it’s no problem at all to do them, but it’s just that I’m on my own today and I have a lot of calls in and it’s very busy, so is there any chance we could leave them till next week?’ I ended lamely before I started to gabble too much.
    ‘Sorry, Gillian, and I know I left it late, but we had a bit of trouble at home here – one of the chaps was sick in hospital . Those bullocks are due to go to the mart next week so I really need to get them done today.’
    There was nothing for it; it would have to be done. As I pulled up to the yard, I noticed that it was actually a car-repair garage with a small bit of land attached. They were obviously part-time farmers, which did nothing for myimpending sense of doom as I knew it meant that the handling facilities were less likely to be adequate.
    Having prepared my syringes of local anaesthetic and the antibiotic powder, I pulled on the well-worn, well-washed overalls that I reserved specifically for skulling cattle.
    It’ll be fine, I assured myself calmly as I made my way up to the garage. Just three small weanlings. I’ll be done in no time. I tried to remind myself of all the successful dehornings I had done in the past. That didn’t take long.
    I called out around the yard, but could find no-one. The shed was empty, apart from three enormous well-horned beasts, penned in the corner.
    Ah no, I thought to myself, it couldn’t be them.
    It was. I couldn’t believe that these three cattle, with mature horns as thick as miniature tree trunks, were to be my patients for the morning.
    As I shouted into the garage, a young lad came out looking none too pleased to be disturbed.
    ‘Is James around at all?’ I asked, courteously.
    ‘No, he had to go off,’ he replied curtly, before turning away to resume his work.
    ‘Well, I’m here to dehorn the cattle,’ I replied, trailing lamely after him.
    ‘They’re in the pen for you,’ he told me, without raising his head. ‘Work away.’
    My patience was beginning to fade. ‘Well, I’ll need help with it. If not, it’ll just have to be done another day.’
    ‘He said he needs them done today but he had to go out,’ he answered, without enthusiasm, dashing all