Allen M. Schoen - Kindred Spirits: How the Remarkable Bond Between Humans and Animals Can Change the Way we Live

Contents

PART I
Kindred Hearts:
What Animals Can Do for Humans

PART II
Kindred Minds:
What Humans Can Do for Animals

PART III
Kindred Souls:
The Wonders of Co-Species Connections

PART IV
Becoming Kindred Spirits

Introduction

W inter 1979. A cold, raw, blustery New England night, the winding country roads invisible beneath the white snow. Megan and I manage to arrive at Joe and Martha Starrs barn at the stroke of midnight, me all bundled up in thermal underwear, veterinary coveralls, a down vest, insulated boots, a wool fishermans cap; Megan in her fluffy golden coat. Im the veterinarian. Megan is my attending assistant, nurse, and helpmate.

The Starrs eyes light up when they see me and my five-year-old golden retriever walk into the light from the dark cobweb-strewn corridor at the barns entrance. Theyre both thoroughly exhausted from trying to help Jesse deliver her third calf.

Jesse is a doe-eyed brown Jersey cow, a favorite not only because shes a superior milk producer but also because shes exceptionally sweet and friendly. Jesse seems to enjoy the company of humans more than the other cows, perhaps because her mother died just after her birth and the Starrs bottle-fed her until she could manage on her own.

Also in the barn is Amy, the Starrs eight-year-old daughter. Amy has always adored Jesse more than any other animal on the farm, and tonight, when she woke up to the sounds of her parents rushing to the barn, she begged to come along, too, in case she could help. Joe and Martha have let her stay. Amys face is wet from tears and wrinkled with anxiety, and Megan runs over to her and starts licking her cheeks.

Jesse is clearly in trouble. Lying almost inert on the ground, her eyes are dull, her body exhausted.

She seems to be giving up, Martha says. Shes not trying to push her calf out anymore. Weve put more straw and shavings underneath her, but shes just lying there.

Let me take a look, I say. After observing her from a distance, I take Jesses temperature, do a comprehensive physical exam, and decide that she has mild milk fever, a calcium deficiency that can paralyze cows and prevent them from calving. I quickly insert a needle into the jugular vein on the side of her neck to give her fluids and calcium.

Moments later, Jesses eyes brighten, and, emitting a mildly enthusiastic moo, she starts to push again. I tie her tail to her side and wash up her rear end. Next I put on my gloves, roll up my sleeves, and lie in the straw on the icy cold barn floor. Then I gently push my way up into Jesses uterus to see how Jesses calf is positioned. Im two inches too short, so I must strip down more; I take off my vest, flannel shirt, and coveralls and try to extend my reach through the warm amniotic fluid.

Meanwhile, Megan is ambling back and forth from Amy to her parents. She seems to understand her surroundings from having assisted me on so many late-night and early morning calving calls, and she knows that her job is to calm the nervous people by being present and loving, wagging her tail, licking everyone at the most appropriate times.

When she sees Jesse starting to strain once again, she approaches carefully, as though to make sure that the cow, who has met her many times before, recognizes her and accepts her presence. Once Megan feels she has a clear signal, she starts licking Jesses face. The contact seems to have both a calming and a revitalizing effect on the struggling animal.

Martha Starr, who has not seen the two animals together before, is startled, but she is sure that Jesse appreciates Megans presence. Rather than push her away, as she does to Marthas cocker spaniel, Jesse accepts Megans comfort and licks, even pushing her head toward her mouth for more.

As I watch, I wonder what is going on in Megans mind: Is this some form of interspecies maternal empathy? Are the two animals commiserating with each other? Does Megan, whos probably had a litter of pups, understand what Jesse is going through? Can she sense the cows anxiety? From a scientists point of view, I cant explain what was happening, outside of instinctual maternal behavior.

Meanwhile, with the help of Jesses contractions, which are now regular, Im finally able to place my hands around the calfs head and help ease it through the birth canal. Slowly the baby emerges into the wondrous world of a cold, dark New Hampshire night redolent with the warm smell of fresh hay and manure.

But our relief quickly turns to concern when we see that the calf, whos been stuck in Jesses birth canal for so many hours, has stopped breathing and is turning cyanoticor blue. I immediately direct Joe to hold the calf up by her hind legs as a way to clean mucous from her airway and begin performing cardiac massage, pumping on her chest and ribs. The baby does not respond.

I then give her an injection of epinephrine and begin my CPR once more; I also tell Joe to breathe into the calfs nose and mouth as if she were a drowning victim, to keep oxygen flowing. Still the calf remains lifeless.

Then I remember a trick my old mentor, Doc Tenney, had taught me. Whenever he had to treat an animal with severe respiratory problems, he would place his fingernail on a certain point of the nose and press down hard. He could never explain why this instantly stimulated breathing, but his experience taught him that it succeeded more often than not.

Remembering his placement, I dig my fingernail into the calfs nose. Seconds later, she screams wildly as a huge plug of mucus shoots out from her nostrils. She then turns to make her first moo to her mother. Jesse slowly lifts herself off the ground and begins to lick away the placenta that covers the babys stomach and abdomen, massaging more life into her chest through the powerful licks of her large tongue.

I didnt know it at the time, but this was one of my first experiences with animal acupuncture. It turns out that Doc Tenneys little trick, which he picked up without knowing its ancient origins, succeeded because it put pressure on one of the most important acupuncture points, Governing Vessel 26, which stimulates the heart and respiratory rate.

As the newly named Dora gazes adoringly at her mother, she calmly allows Megan to help Jesse lick off the rest of the placenta. Perhaps, in her newborn innocence, Dora assumes that these golden animals assist at every calfs birth.

Megans arrival in my life had been inauspicious. Diseased and abandoned, she was first spotted by a friend who felt sorry for the ragged creature struggling to survive by begging for food at a rural New Hampshire parking lot. After devouring anything offered, she would hack, cough, and collapse on the ground, writhing in pain, piteously staring up at her benefactors, pleading for help.

Once I heard my friend describe the symptoms, I immediately guessed that the dogs problem was heartworm disease, a potentially life-threatening disorder caused by microfilaria, tiny worms transmitted from dog to dog through mosquitoes. At that time in New Hampshire, it was almost impossible for dogs to avoid the disease unless they took a daily heartworm preventative. But I agreed to do what I could, and I told my friend to bring her over.

I fell in love with Megan the moment she bounded into my small cabin. Despite her grave illness, the look of love in her eyes and the deep reservoir of soul lurking behind them were enough to make me not just want to save her but also to adopt her. Still, her gums were pale, and harsh, rasping sounds came from her lungsboth signs of serious infection. With my stethoscope I could detect a heart murmur as well.