Julian Norton - Adventures with a Yorkshire Vet: Lambing Time and Other Animal Tales

WHEN I WAS A SMALL BOY, on Sunday evenings at about six oclock, my family and I would sit down to watch All Creatures Great and Small on television. The programme was based on the books of James Herriot, a vet working in rural North Yorkshire in the 1930s. Like so many future vets of my generation, I was captivated. Becoming a vet became my dream.

Some years later, in pursuit of that dream, I arrived at a veterinary practice in the Yorkshire Dales, eager and ready to learn the ropes. I thrust out my hand towards the senior partner, hoping to make a good impression.

Youve got cold hands, the vet bellowed. He was right. Id just cycled ten miles on my bike without any gloves, through sleet and snow, to spend the first of five days with him and his colleagues.

Dont take your coat off, he called as he strode out of the office. We have some cows to see. Plenty of visits to make today, so wed better crack on. And bring your wellies with you.

Despite my freezing fingers, I felt a surge of excitement as I hurried after him. I was about to get my first taste of what it might be like to be a vet. I remember the various shades of brown farmyards and cowsheds, and the warm moisture rising from the backs of the housed cattle, all lined up side by side. I can still smell the farmyard too the breath of the cows, the fruity silage and the sweet hay. And I was mystified and fascinated by the vet as he examined every cow, proclaiming the exact details of the goings-on of each one. How does he know these things? I wondered.

But as much as I recall the veterinary skills and the animals ailments, I mostly remember the people. The farmers, whose weather-worn faces all had their own stories to tell. Of course, every farm animal has someone who cares for them and, some years later, once Id made it through vet school and out into the world as a veterinary surgeon, I realized that treating an animal was only half the job. It is great fun, endlessly challenging, satisfying and rewarding. But it is the people and their stories that really make the life of a vet extra special.

The ten stories in this book give you a glimpse into the world of both the people and their animals in the part of Yorkshire where Ive been lucky enough to have lived and worked. I hope you enjoy these tales and I hope they inspire the same love and understanding of animals that have captivated me since I was a child.

Julian

The little practice nestled under the gentle Yorkshire hills was the place where my veterinary career really began. As a student, Id dreamt of spending my days working with and helping animals. Now, having passed my exams and graduated from veterinary school, I could, at last, live that dream.

My first couple of weeks at the practice had been particularly busy and it was quickly becoming clear to me that I was going to have my hands full. Every time I stepped into the waiting room, there were new patients arriving and each one seemed to present a different challenge.

It was another hectic morning at the practice when Pigley the micro-pig arrived. The dogs, cats and rabbits felt quite at ease as they waited their turn to be seen, but Pigleys arrival caused some alarm, because most of the animals had never seen a pig before. They viewed Pigley with fascination and some suspicion.

Pigley quickly made himself at home in the packed waiting room, investigating and snuffling around, sniffing dogs and making small, contented grunting noises to himself. A cat in a basket hissed when he oinked at it, causing him to make a high-pitched squeal.

I chuckled. Looks like another normal day at the practice, I said to Emmy, my loyal Jack Russell terrier, who had resumed her new favourite spot in her cosy basket under the reception desk.

At one point, a pug approached Pigley, sniffed him and started barking frantically, his eyes bulging even more than usual. The pug was called Ffion. He was recovering from a broken leg, which Id repaired with a plate and some screws during my first week at the practice. The round little dog still had a cumbersome blue bandage on his leg, which we were planning to remove during his appointment my final job before I turned my attention to Pigley.

Usually, farm animals are treated on the farm. Its impossible to bring a cow to the vets and difficult to fetch a horse, although occasionally people ride their horse to the surgery and wait in the car park to be seen. But small farm animals such as baby micro-pigs, lambs or pygmy goats are portable enough to bring along, just like a dog. Once, I treated a miniature Mediterranean donkey at the practice. It arrived on the back seat of a car!

I headed back into my consulting room, watching Pigley and Ffion through the long, thin window in the door. After a hesitant start, the two sausage-shaped creatures seemed to have struck up an unlikely friendship. Ffion wiggled vigorously from side to side as he tried to wag his tail, but since it was curled in a tight corkscrew, it didnt really wag like a normal dogs tail. Instead, his whole body wagged. When he ventured close to Pigley, he barked and then jumped back, curious but cautious. He repeated the process over and over again, desperate to become friends, but unsure what Pigley was and whether he might attack. What is this curious creature? he must have been thinking.

Pigley sniffed at the big blue bandage on Ffions leg. This was the first pug the pig had ever seen and Pigley was fascinated by its blue leg. Every time Ffion barked, Pigley grunted, almost causing the astonished pugs eyes to pop out of his head with surprise! Pigs spend most of their time grunting, as they are interested in whats going on around them. They are silent only when they are asleep.

I called Ffion into my room and hoisted him onto the table. Despite everything he had been through at the surgery in recent weeks, he was always pleased to see me. I leant in to stroke his cheery face and he immediately stood on his hind legs, licking my face and ears, as if telling me all about the strange animal he had just encountered in the waiting room. I gently unravelled the bandage. Underneath, the leg looked excellent. The wound was clean and healed, the broken bone now firm and already strong. I smiled to myself. Not bad for a new vet, I thought.

Good news, Ffion, I said as I popped him back on the floor. Ill be able to leave this leg without a bandage on. Its healing very nicely. His owners looked delighted. You should come back for a check-up in two weeks, I continued. Take it easy and DONT jump off the sofa again. Remember, pugs cant fly!

Pigley looked as surprised as a pig could be when his new friend emerged from the consulting room with a different-coloured leg. The new one was thinner and no longer blue. Maybe that was why Pigley was anxious when I called for him and his owner, Joyce, to come in. But it wasnt his leg Id be looking at. Pigley had a poorly eye.