Sticks and stones and mud and leaves
All look like turtles to me
Searching underwater in a pond
For painted turtles of which I am fond
Could have been a turtle shellJust another rock, oh well
Poke up their head, then swim awayThis is the story of each day
For a week without a capture
Feels like the opposite of rapture
Basking on a log in the sun
I approach, turtles run
They wait until I'm chest deep
Sliding down a bank too steep
Swim away when I come towardA wet t-shirt my only reward.
That sums up the week that I have had in the field. It was pretty much one long low light of a week with regard to my turtle study.
Highlights: We had another "kids camp" this week for High School kids interested in Veterinary Medicine. I was asked to help with the darting lab which was awesome. I got to fire all the different types of dart guns used here at the wilds. With the scoped rifle I put a nice tight pattern on the target which included a bullseye.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
Day 31: When It Rains
Dreary drizzle awaited me as I left my cabin this morning. A quick check of the weather channel app on my phone let me know to expect more of the same for the rest of the day. If only I were going to play baseball, the game would have been called, kaput, rained out. Instead, I was going to do pond surveys. In this game, the only thing that cancels work is lighting. No storms of that nature were predicted until after lunch.
Our team marched out to the first site of the day. It was a shallow looking pond, with no signs of turtles at all. After deciding that a turtle search would be fruitless at this pond, we hiked to the second site of the day. This was a nearby pond which was added to our survey so our main objective was simply to locate the pond.
Leaving a trail of broken branches and upset spiders in our wake, we came to the shoreline of our new pond. After a brief pause for observations, I set about entering the water to survey this huge lake. Four short steps along the shoreline and I found myself chest deep in the water and sinking slowly.
Looking out across the lake, I saw a clear path on the far shore. Four wheel drive tire treads running parallel up a green carpeted hillside. We decided that finding that path would allow for a better survey. I exited the water and we were on our way to the next site.
The sky doubled its rain production shortly after a green frog found her way into Chelsea's net at our third site. By the time she finished writing all the stats on the page, it was soaked through. We released the frog and raced back to the truck.
Highlight: I guess the highlight of today would be learning that I will be helping out with the new kid's camp this week. It is a "Vet Camp". I can't hardly wait to return to the animal hospital even if the price of admission is dealing with preteens.
Lowlight: Rainy days are terrible for finding turtles. From this point forward, I will only be working on a Major League Baseball type schedule. Might as well roll tarps over the ponds while we wait out the storm from the comfort of a plush locker room.
Our team marched out to the first site of the day. It was a shallow looking pond, with no signs of turtles at all. After deciding that a turtle search would be fruitless at this pond, we hiked to the second site of the day. This was a nearby pond which was added to our survey so our main objective was simply to locate the pond.
Leaving a trail of broken branches and upset spiders in our wake, we came to the shoreline of our new pond. After a brief pause for observations, I set about entering the water to survey this huge lake. Four short steps along the shoreline and I found myself chest deep in the water and sinking slowly.
Looking out across the lake, I saw a clear path on the far shore. Four wheel drive tire treads running parallel up a green carpeted hillside. We decided that finding that path would allow for a better survey. I exited the water and we were on our way to the next site.
The sky doubled its rain production shortly after a green frog found her way into Chelsea's net at our third site. By the time she finished writing all the stats on the page, it was soaked through. We released the frog and raced back to the truck.
Highlight: I guess the highlight of today would be learning that I will be helping out with the new kid's camp this week. It is a "Vet Camp". I can't hardly wait to return to the animal hospital even if the price of admission is dealing with preteens.
Lowlight: Rainy days are terrible for finding turtles. From this point forward, I will only be working on a Major League Baseball type schedule. Might as well roll tarps over the ponds while we wait out the storm from the comfort of a plush locker room.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Days 26-30: Kid's Week
Our education camp, "Wildecamp", was host to a group of twelve year old children. As part of our internship, we were asked to take out a group of ten kids to a survey site each day this week. During that time, we would take them into a lake to demonstrate what we do each day.
Our group of turtle researchers selected a site which had previously yielded four turtle captures and numerous sitings. It was a short hike to the lake. The water was shallow and clear. The perfect set up for the kids to have the best chance finding turtles in the wild.
Turns out the site was too good to be true. Not only did we not see any turtles with any of the groups, we did not see any of the wildlife for which we survey. Maybe it was the fact the twelve year old kids think anything short of yelling at each other is "being quite". Maybe it was the heat driving the turtles deeper into the water. Your guess is as good as mine.
When we survey the lake sites, our whole team shows up with appropriate gear. Long pants with boots or Chest Waders are our daily uniform. The children arrived in shorts and water shoes. It was so hot that I did not think that it made much of a difference.
My assumption was wrong. Chest waders preclude me from all the things that bare skin might attract in a lake. Within 15 minutes of our first lake survey one of the boys had a leaf on his leg. When I looked down, I knew immediately that was no leaf. A simple touch confirmed that one of the youngsters who was under my care was now the host to a leech. We find them on turtles all the time but I never considered that a human would be just as attractive.
I calmly reached down with my bare hands to remove the leech. No luck. The leech had already began to draw blood and slipped between my moistened fingers. Thankfully I had restocked my latex glove supply before heading out that morning. The gloved fingers were able to remove the leech with a firm tug. After removal, that boy decided to stay on the shore with another camper and a councilor who did not venture out into the water. My remaining campers all soldiered on to complete the survey.
When arriving back to the parking area, one camper had a much more engorged leech attached just above his ankle. As we were preparing to remove the leech, he looked at me through his thin rimmed prescription glasses...
"Is this going to hurt?"
"I don't know, I have never pulled a leech off myself."
"Is it alright if I swear when you pull it off?"
"Sure thing boss, just don't start crying on me."
...For the record, I'm told that it does not hurt. I let him keep the leech as a souvenir.
Word spread quickly about the pond being filled with leeches and the next group of boys were quite polarized. Some stayed on the shore with a councilor. The majority decided that having a leech on them was a preteen badge of honor. Giving instructions on how to avoid leeches was more like giving them instructions on how to FIND the leeches. When they emerged from the lake, each one of them had bloody circles dotting their calfs and ankles. The lucky few boasted engorged leeches on their legs.
One boy was so attached to his new external parasites that he named them. The first leech he found was dubbed "Steve", the second was known as "Ozzy Osbourn". He refused removal and boarded the bus with leeches still attached. I was later told by another councilor that he put up quite a fight before Steve and Ozzy were finally deposited into alcohol for disposal.
Highlight: Three out of the Four groups told us that our survey was the best. Even though we didn't find any turtles, the kids still enjoyed seeing the tadpoles, beetles, dragonflies, damselflies and of course the leeches. I let a brave group of girls wade out into the water to check one of our empty turtle traps. They ended up shoulder deep in the water, sinking into mud holes and were thrilled about every step.
Lowlight: As previously stated, the groups were split between boys and girls. Several of the boys were not willing to get into the water with us for the survey. EVERY SINGLE GIRL GOT INTO THE WATER! Even after knowing that there were leeches in the pond! When the final group, all girls, finished the survey, I informed them that the girls were the only ones with 100% participation in our survey. They all replied, "Girls Rule, Boys Drool!" After this week, I was forced to agree...
Our group of turtle researchers selected a site which had previously yielded four turtle captures and numerous sitings. It was a short hike to the lake. The water was shallow and clear. The perfect set up for the kids to have the best chance finding turtles in the wild.
Turns out the site was too good to be true. Not only did we not see any turtles with any of the groups, we did not see any of the wildlife for which we survey. Maybe it was the fact the twelve year old kids think anything short of yelling at each other is "being quite". Maybe it was the heat driving the turtles deeper into the water. Your guess is as good as mine.
When we survey the lake sites, our whole team shows up with appropriate gear. Long pants with boots or Chest Waders are our daily uniform. The children arrived in shorts and water shoes. It was so hot that I did not think that it made much of a difference.
My assumption was wrong. Chest waders preclude me from all the things that bare skin might attract in a lake. Within 15 minutes of our first lake survey one of the boys had a leaf on his leg. When I looked down, I knew immediately that was no leaf. A simple touch confirmed that one of the youngsters who was under my care was now the host to a leech. We find them on turtles all the time but I never considered that a human would be just as attractive.
I calmly reached down with my bare hands to remove the leech. No luck. The leech had already began to draw blood and slipped between my moistened fingers. Thankfully I had restocked my latex glove supply before heading out that morning. The gloved fingers were able to remove the leech with a firm tug. After removal, that boy decided to stay on the shore with another camper and a councilor who did not venture out into the water. My remaining campers all soldiered on to complete the survey.
When arriving back to the parking area, one camper had a much more engorged leech attached just above his ankle. As we were preparing to remove the leech, he looked at me through his thin rimmed prescription glasses...
"Is this going to hurt?"
"I don't know, I have never pulled a leech off myself."
"Is it alright if I swear when you pull it off?"
"Sure thing boss, just don't start crying on me."
...For the record, I'm told that it does not hurt. I let him keep the leech as a souvenir.
Word spread quickly about the pond being filled with leeches and the next group of boys were quite polarized. Some stayed on the shore with a councilor. The majority decided that having a leech on them was a preteen badge of honor. Giving instructions on how to avoid leeches was more like giving them instructions on how to FIND the leeches. When they emerged from the lake, each one of them had bloody circles dotting their calfs and ankles. The lucky few boasted engorged leeches on their legs.
One boy was so attached to his new external parasites that he named them. The first leech he found was dubbed "Steve", the second was known as "Ozzy Osbourn". He refused removal and boarded the bus with leeches still attached. I was later told by another councilor that he put up quite a fight before Steve and Ozzy were finally deposited into alcohol for disposal.
Highlight: Three out of the Four groups told us that our survey was the best. Even though we didn't find any turtles, the kids still enjoyed seeing the tadpoles, beetles, dragonflies, damselflies and of course the leeches. I let a brave group of girls wade out into the water to check one of our empty turtle traps. They ended up shoulder deep in the water, sinking into mud holes and were thrilled about every step.
Lowlight: As previously stated, the groups were split between boys and girls. Several of the boys were not willing to get into the water with us for the survey. EVERY SINGLE GIRL GOT INTO THE WATER! Even after knowing that there were leeches in the pond! When the final group, all girls, finished the survey, I informed them that the girls were the only ones with 100% participation in our survey. They all replied, "Girls Rule, Boys Drool!" After this week, I was forced to agree...
Day 25: Borex the Broken
In a previous post I detailed the P. Horse, named Borex, who had broken his leg dancing with a fence. This morning, Borex was scheduled for surgery. Thankfully I was going to get witness this procedure. A specialist from tOSU was driving in from Columbus for the procedure.
Shortly after my arrival, the specialist parked outside of the clinic. She entered the glass doors of the clinic with her team in tow. Each member of her three person team carrying a blue tub brimming with medical supplies. Bandages, wraps and surgery packs peaked over the edges.
The Specialist reminded me of a composite of several female authority figures I have known in my life. Her hair and voice reminded me of my Sunday School Principal. She said things to her staff like "Whatevski" and "Val, let's get going here. Preppy preppy preppy" to indicate she was in a hurry to get the procedure started. The physical presence was that of my elementary school gym teacher, demanding the respect of her young charges.
Once the anesthesia took hold and the x-rays had been exposed, The Specialist devised the plan. Her Resident, whom she named 'The Pride of Bali', began by gathering a bone graft from the hip bone opposite the bad leg. The process reminded me of gathering the hard to reach ice cream from the corners of the carton. Perhaps because the tool used was similar to a mini ice cream scoop.
After a sufficient amount of bone material was obtained, it was time to move to the broken leg. At this point, The Specialist was ready to enter the surgery. She skillfully directed her team while her experienced fingers probed Borex's wound. In a few minutes, she had removed the proximal sesamoid bone.
Placement of the bone graft by The Specialist was followed by packing antibiotic beads into all the nooks and crannies around the wound. The whole thing was wrapped up tight and phase two of the treatment plan began. It was time for the insertion of the pins.
I have never seen pins being drilled into a bone before today. I was surprised when The Pride of Bali pulled out a sterilized DeWalt drill. The battery could not be sterilized so it was wrapped in latex gloves with a towel on the outside. In short order two long pins were inserted into the radial bone of Borex.
Highlight: During the casting of Borex's leg, one of the Zoo Keepers inquired about the difference in casting wrap size in each of the three layers. The Specialist's Vet Tech quickly answered, "We do it that way because that is how Big Momma likes it". When the laughter died down, The Specialist enlightened us to the real reason. When casting a limb, a smaller width wrap is used closer to the skin to allow smooth coverage of the contours. With each layer further outward, the width of the wrap is increased to provide better support for the limb.
Lowlight: What Lowlight? I got to spend the day in the clinic!
Shortly after my arrival, the specialist parked outside of the clinic. She entered the glass doors of the clinic with her team in tow. Each member of her three person team carrying a blue tub brimming with medical supplies. Bandages, wraps and surgery packs peaked over the edges.
The Specialist reminded me of a composite of several female authority figures I have known in my life. Her hair and voice reminded me of my Sunday School Principal. She said things to her staff like "Whatevski" and "Val, let's get going here. Preppy preppy preppy" to indicate she was in a hurry to get the procedure started. The physical presence was that of my elementary school gym teacher, demanding the respect of her young charges.
Once the anesthesia took hold and the x-rays had been exposed, The Specialist devised the plan. Her Resident, whom she named 'The Pride of Bali', began by gathering a bone graft from the hip bone opposite the bad leg. The process reminded me of gathering the hard to reach ice cream from the corners of the carton. Perhaps because the tool used was similar to a mini ice cream scoop.
After a sufficient amount of bone material was obtained, it was time to move to the broken leg. At this point, The Specialist was ready to enter the surgery. She skillfully directed her team while her experienced fingers probed Borex's wound. In a few minutes, she had removed the proximal sesamoid bone.
Placement of the bone graft by The Specialist was followed by packing antibiotic beads into all the nooks and crannies around the wound. The whole thing was wrapped up tight and phase two of the treatment plan began. It was time for the insertion of the pins.
I have never seen pins being drilled into a bone before today. I was surprised when The Pride of Bali pulled out a sterilized DeWalt drill. The battery could not be sterilized so it was wrapped in latex gloves with a towel on the outside. In short order two long pins were inserted into the radial bone of Borex.
Highlight: During the casting of Borex's leg, one of the Zoo Keepers inquired about the difference in casting wrap size in each of the three layers. The Specialist's Vet Tech quickly answered, "We do it that way because that is how Big Momma likes it". When the laughter died down, The Specialist enlightened us to the real reason. When casting a limb, a smaller width wrap is used closer to the skin to allow smooth coverage of the contours. With each layer further outward, the width of the wrap is increased to provide better support for the limb.
Lowlight: What Lowlight? I got to spend the day in the clinic!
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Day 24: The Neighbors
I have decided not to regale you with the tales of another day hiking the north. Rather, I am going to tell you about one of the things I will miss the most when this internship has run it's course. My neighbors here are what make this experience an 'A+'.
One of the first neighbors that I met here is a fat groundhog. I have named him 'Whistle Pig'. He hangs around with the Bunnies next door. The lot of them can regularly be found munching on the vegetation surrounding our cabin. I regularly have breakfast with Whistle Pig and the Bunnies.
Further down the shore line, a family of beavers built themselves a nice dam house. The beavers usually swim by but they never stop to chat. Always too busy for small talk. I guess a beaver's work is never done.
The Great Blue Herons live across the pond. Most of the time, we see them just hanging around on the shore line. Watching them take flight is quite impressive, especially when they launch from the water. From time to time, their friends the Geese will show up for dinner. They usually end up leaving with a squak.
Lately when I have been going on my evening run, I am coming across eight to ten turkey vultures. I usually see them late in my run when I am huffing and puffing my way along the last mile. The vultures make a weak attempt to move out of my way when I approach. I tell them, "Not today guys!" as I run past.
One of the first neighbors that I met here is a fat groundhog. I have named him 'Whistle Pig'. He hangs around with the Bunnies next door. The lot of them can regularly be found munching on the vegetation surrounding our cabin. I regularly have breakfast with Whistle Pig and the Bunnies.
Further down the shore line, a family of beavers built themselves a nice dam house. The beavers usually swim by but they never stop to chat. Always too busy for small talk. I guess a beaver's work is never done.
The Great Blue Herons live across the pond. Most of the time, we see them just hanging around on the shore line. Watching them take flight is quite impressive, especially when they launch from the water. From time to time, their friends the Geese will show up for dinner. They usually end up leaving with a squak.
Lately when I have been going on my evening run, I am coming across eight to ten turkey vultures. I usually see them late in my run when I am huffing and puffing my way along the last mile. The vultures make a weak attempt to move out of my way when I approach. I tell them, "Not today guys!" as I run past.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Day 23: Night Time is the Right Time
After another fruitless survey at a northern lake, I sat down to work on my research paper in the Conservation Science Training Center. The chairs are the most comfortable around and it is the perfect place to get down to the business of writing up some science.
As I am getting underway, a fellow vet student comes in a politely pleads with Brian and myself to join her for a night time frog survey. Being the gentlemen that we are, only a moderate amount of bribery was required to enlist our help. It is difficult to resist helping when beer and cookies are the reward.
I borrow a head lamp from one of my cabin mates and load up my chest waders. The night survey of the wetlands is about to begin. I have been told that the night time is the best chance to catch a frog. When the spotlight goes into their eyes you can just pick them right up. I started out the survey hoping this was the truth.
When we reached the parking lot, there was a orgy of frog activity surrounding a nearby puddle. I could not resist the chance despite the frog calls indicating that it was not a species we were in search of currently. Down to my knees, I spotted a frog. I slowly approached on all fours. A quick dive with both hands leading the way and he was all mine.
Highlight: I rose with a tree frog firmly grasped between my palms. He was small compared to the green frogs, but a frog is a frog. Perhaps tree frogs are less evil than other types.
After releasing him, we began our actual survey. The wetlands area that was selected for the night had reeds which grew tall enough to obscure my view. Moonlight obscured the beam sent from my tiny headlamp. I was crouched low with every step scanning the ankle deep waters at the base of the reeds for flashing eyes or green skin.
Lowlight: Being so focused on the reeds directly in front of me, I lost sight of the big picture. This lead me to lose my balance and fall into a channel which was chest deep on me. The sloshing of the water as I regained my balance soaked by shirt but did not fill up my chest waders.
The channel's water level put me in a prospective which would be perfect for the frog search so I decided to stay. While wading slowly upstream, something large moved under my foot. Shortly after something slammed into my leg. Not hard enough to knock me off balance but hard enough to freak me out.
At this point I began writing a mental list of things a person wading chest deep in turbid waters at eleven o'clock at night should not think about...
As I am getting underway, a fellow vet student comes in a politely pleads with Brian and myself to join her for a night time frog survey. Being the gentlemen that we are, only a moderate amount of bribery was required to enlist our help. It is difficult to resist helping when beer and cookies are the reward.
I borrow a head lamp from one of my cabin mates and load up my chest waders. The night survey of the wetlands is about to begin. I have been told that the night time is the best chance to catch a frog. When the spotlight goes into their eyes you can just pick them right up. I started out the survey hoping this was the truth.
When we reached the parking lot, there was a orgy of frog activity surrounding a nearby puddle. I could not resist the chance despite the frog calls indicating that it was not a species we were in search of currently. Down to my knees, I spotted a frog. I slowly approached on all fours. A quick dive with both hands leading the way and he was all mine.
Highlight: I rose with a tree frog firmly grasped between my palms. He was small compared to the green frogs, but a frog is a frog. Perhaps tree frogs are less evil than other types.
After releasing him, we began our actual survey. The wetlands area that was selected for the night had reeds which grew tall enough to obscure my view. Moonlight obscured the beam sent from my tiny headlamp. I was crouched low with every step scanning the ankle deep waters at the base of the reeds for flashing eyes or green skin.
Lowlight: Being so focused on the reeds directly in front of me, I lost sight of the big picture. This lead me to lose my balance and fall into a channel which was chest deep on me. The sloshing of the water as I regained my balance soaked by shirt but did not fill up my chest waders.
The channel's water level put me in a prospective which would be perfect for the frog search so I decided to stay. While wading slowly upstream, something large moved under my foot. Shortly after something slammed into my leg. Not hard enough to knock me off balance but hard enough to freak me out.
At this point I began writing a mental list of things a person wading chest deep in turbid waters at eleven o'clock at night should not think about...
- Alligators like wetlands. Maybe someone released a pet alligator here.
- I saw a snapping turtle bite through a stick. I'm pretty sure that my waders are not as strong as a stick
- Northern Water snakes are "very aggressive" snakes. Do you think they hunt at night?
- Every episode of 'River Monsters' ever made features stories about people doing questionable things in the middle of the night. This seems fairly questionable.
Day 22: Round and Round
Today there was no escaping from the northern survey. I don't recall if I have mentioned this previously but The Wilds is located on reclaimed strip mines. The famous "Big Muskie" bucket would tear through the ground for coal. When there was no more coal to be had, the mobile strip mining factory would simply move to a new part of the property.
When the land was reclaimed in what is now the north property of The Wilds, the laws were different than they are today regarding who the land can be left. Today the land must be returned to its original contours. The north is a landscape of dense deciduous forest coating drastic elevation changes.
The trip to our survey site was some of the most challenging hiking I have ever done. If we found a clear path to walk, it was not clear for very long. We climbed over downed trees, ducked under autumn olive bushes and broke through about a million spiderwebs to finally reach our lake.
After all the travel to reach our hidden lake, it turned out to be quite a let down. I observed a large school of blue gill fish as well as a gigantic large mouth bass. Both turtles and frogs eluded my gaze all morning.
Finishing the survey we began the march back to our truck. The details get a little foggy from this point. Someone tells someone else they are always right. Someone makes a left turn when they should have made a right. Perhaps our GPS unit went on strike at some point.
The only sure thing is that Lake Team spent the next 3 hours hopelessly lost in THICK cover. Climb up one hill, slide down the steep grade on the other side. Thorn bushes mixed seamlessly with chest high grasses to cover the lowlands. No radio service, no easy way out.
Lowlight: Bloody, sweaty, and exhausted, we crept up to a lake. Strangely enough, it looked identical to the lake we had surveyed in the morning. Oh, wait, it WAS the lake that we surveyed in the morning. We had managed to spend three hours traveling in a complete circle.
Highlight: The only highlight of a day like today is when the sun sets, you are able to crawl in to bed and the entire experience becomes a distant memory. Thankfully we only have a few sites left to survey in the dreaded north.
When the land was reclaimed in what is now the north property of The Wilds, the laws were different than they are today regarding who the land can be left. Today the land must be returned to its original contours. The north is a landscape of dense deciduous forest coating drastic elevation changes.
The trip to our survey site was some of the most challenging hiking I have ever done. If we found a clear path to walk, it was not clear for very long. We climbed over downed trees, ducked under autumn olive bushes and broke through about a million spiderwebs to finally reach our lake.
After all the travel to reach our hidden lake, it turned out to be quite a let down. I observed a large school of blue gill fish as well as a gigantic large mouth bass. Both turtles and frogs eluded my gaze all morning.
Finishing the survey we began the march back to our truck. The details get a little foggy from this point. Someone tells someone else they are always right. Someone makes a left turn when they should have made a right. Perhaps our GPS unit went on strike at some point.
The only sure thing is that Lake Team spent the next 3 hours hopelessly lost in THICK cover. Climb up one hill, slide down the steep grade on the other side. Thorn bushes mixed seamlessly with chest high grasses to cover the lowlands. No radio service, no easy way out.
Lowlight: Bloody, sweaty, and exhausted, we crept up to a lake. Strangely enough, it looked identical to the lake we had surveyed in the morning. Oh, wait, it WAS the lake that we surveyed in the morning. We had managed to spend three hours traveling in a complete circle.
Highlight: The only highlight of a day like today is when the sun sets, you are able to crawl in to bed and the entire experience becomes a distant memory. Thankfully we only have a few sites left to survey in the dreaded north.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Day 21: Flo-Jo-A-Go-Go
After a long weekend spent enjoying the freedom of America, primarily with the good people of Weasel Boy Brewing, today was back to work. This morning marked the second foray into the rough terrain of the northern reclamation lands. A place with trails named "High Wall" and "Bumpy Valley" did not sound like the easy hike that a first day back demanded. After hauling our team to the parking area, I received quite a nice compliment.
"Ron, the head vet just radioed. She would like you to come assist with another cheetah procedure this morning. Do you want to go?"
"Oh, I guess if they need me I'll go help." was my humble response.
When I turned to a colleague, she simply rolled her eyes at me while taking my field pack. Lake team spent the rest of day with a challenging two hour hike to a survey site. During that time, I am told they discussed which of them had 'dibs' on future vet observations on the various species which may enter the clinic. I suspect that I was cursed a few times as well.
When I arrived at the clinic I got a quick update on Flo-Jo, the three year old sister of Bolt. Flo-Jo had decided to become anorexic over the holiday weekend. When a top predator being fed a premium carnivore diet stops eating, this is a major cause of concern. After several days of 'hands off' treatments, it was time to give her a full exam.
As per my usual job in these situation, I was responsible for counting heart rate, respiration rate, and taking her temperature. She had regularly irregular heart beat. One beat, pause, and then three quick beats. This is called sinus arrhythmia and not of any real medical concern. Flo-Jo's breathing rate was much stronger than her brothers under anesthesia.
The temperature part of my job occurs at the exit of the gastrointestinal tract. Flo-Jo had left me quite a bit of butterscotch pudding feces to clean up before I was able to take her temperature. Whenever I am faced with fecal matter in the course of my day, the same voice goes through my head. My father often says, "After all the shit you have given me over the years, this is how your are getting repaid!" Then we laugh about it together. I hope I never stop hearing that voice.
While taking Flo-Jo's temperature during the later stages of the exam, I was holding her tail up over my head as I leaned forward from the end of the exam table to read the thermometer. While waiting for the digital read out I heard the head vet say, "She's waking up..."
In my mind I saw flashes of the future: Flo-Jo the cheetah waking up angry to find me not only holding her by the tail, but with a thermometer shoved up her tailpipe. Two quick kicks from her powerful back legs knock me off my feet. She turns to pounce, her freshly cleaned fangs shining in the medical lights
Thankfully the head vet went on to finish the sentence with "..turn her up a little bit." Quite a relief. As Flo-Jo's exam finished up, I was tasked with putting Frontline on her to protect against fleas and ticks. The catch was that I would have to put the Frontline on the back of her neck, while she was in her transportation crate, after the anesthesia was removed.
I gingerly reached into the crate and maneuvered the tube of preventative into place. I looked down into Flo-Jo's eyes. I began to squeeze the tube. She blinked at me. SHE BLINKED! I squeezed harder and quickly removed my hand. "Did you get it all?" asked the head vet. "Oh yes." I confidently responded showing her the tube which I had managed to completely flatten in the process.
Highlight: The Wilds recently received three new Cheetahs for the breeding program. After finishing Flo-Jo's exam, the head vet asked the head cheetah keeper where to find the new arrivals. His response had all the flavor of a high-school lunch table gossip session. "Jabari is TOTALLY CRUSHING on Amber. Wherever you see her, he's going to be right there."
Lowlight: During the procedure, she had a small patch of fur shaved off of her neck to allow for placement of a catheter. Allowing myself to be a tourist for a brief moment, I leaned down and picked up a piece of the fur. I held in my hand an actual cheetah spot. The patch of fur was as soft and fluffy as it was beautiful. I REALLY wanted to keep it as a souvenir but decided that it would just break up in my pocket on the way back to the cabins. After careful contemplation, I placed it into the trash can. Looking back now, I probably should have risked it.
"Ron, the head vet just radioed. She would like you to come assist with another cheetah procedure this morning. Do you want to go?"
"Oh, I guess if they need me I'll go help." was my humble response.
When I turned to a colleague, she simply rolled her eyes at me while taking my field pack. Lake team spent the rest of day with a challenging two hour hike to a survey site. During that time, I am told they discussed which of them had 'dibs' on future vet observations on the various species which may enter the clinic. I suspect that I was cursed a few times as well.
When I arrived at the clinic I got a quick update on Flo-Jo, the three year old sister of Bolt. Flo-Jo had decided to become anorexic over the holiday weekend. When a top predator being fed a premium carnivore diet stops eating, this is a major cause of concern. After several days of 'hands off' treatments, it was time to give her a full exam.
As per my usual job in these situation, I was responsible for counting heart rate, respiration rate, and taking her temperature. She had regularly irregular heart beat. One beat, pause, and then three quick beats. This is called sinus arrhythmia and not of any real medical concern. Flo-Jo's breathing rate was much stronger than her brothers under anesthesia.
The temperature part of my job occurs at the exit of the gastrointestinal tract. Flo-Jo had left me quite a bit of butterscotch pudding feces to clean up before I was able to take her temperature. Whenever I am faced with fecal matter in the course of my day, the same voice goes through my head. My father often says, "After all the shit you have given me over the years, this is how your are getting repaid!" Then we laugh about it together. I hope I never stop hearing that voice.
While taking Flo-Jo's temperature during the later stages of the exam, I was holding her tail up over my head as I leaned forward from the end of the exam table to read the thermometer. While waiting for the digital read out I heard the head vet say, "She's waking up..."
In my mind I saw flashes of the future: Flo-Jo the cheetah waking up angry to find me not only holding her by the tail, but with a thermometer shoved up her tailpipe. Two quick kicks from her powerful back legs knock me off my feet. She turns to pounce, her freshly cleaned fangs shining in the medical lights
Thankfully the head vet went on to finish the sentence with "..turn her up a little bit." Quite a relief. As Flo-Jo's exam finished up, I was tasked with putting Frontline on her to protect against fleas and ticks. The catch was that I would have to put the Frontline on the back of her neck, while she was in her transportation crate, after the anesthesia was removed.
I gingerly reached into the crate and maneuvered the tube of preventative into place. I looked down into Flo-Jo's eyes. I began to squeeze the tube. She blinked at me. SHE BLINKED! I squeezed harder and quickly removed my hand. "Did you get it all?" asked the head vet. "Oh yes." I confidently responded showing her the tube which I had managed to completely flatten in the process.
Highlight: The Wilds recently received three new Cheetahs for the breeding program. After finishing Flo-Jo's exam, the head vet asked the head cheetah keeper where to find the new arrivals. His response had all the flavor of a high-school lunch table gossip session. "Jabari is TOTALLY CRUSHING on Amber. Wherever you see her, he's going to be right there."
Lowlight: During the procedure, she had a small patch of fur shaved off of her neck to allow for placement of a catheter. Allowing myself to be a tourist for a brief moment, I leaned down and picked up a piece of the fur. I held in my hand an actual cheetah spot. The patch of fur was as soft and fluffy as it was beautiful. I REALLY wanted to keep it as a souvenir but decided that it would just break up in my pocket on the way back to the cabins. After careful contemplation, I placed it into the trash can. Looking back now, I probably should have risked it.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Day 18: Przewalski's horse
My routine here is anything but routine. Today I started another survey with Lake Team only to leave early for assistance with a veterinary procedure. Today's patient was a Przewalski's horse, an endangered wild horse whose name sounds nothing like the way it is spelled. We will call him 'P Horse' for the sake of brevity.
When tranquilizing a wild horse who is not happy to see you, you do not skimp on the chemical restraint. The name of the drug used today escapes me but the caution used was not lost. "I'm wearing gloves and goggles because if any of this gets into my system, it will kill me." Katie went on to explain that this drug is like morphine times one thousand. When she went to deliver the dose to the restrained horse, I took a step back and held my breath. One can never be too careful when death is on the line.
The P Horse took it all like a champ. When released from his physical restraint, he walked into the padded room and quietly went to sleep. Once the slumber was confirmed, all hands were on deck to move the great beast into the hospital room where today's exam would take place.
This P Horse had decided to tango with a wire fence a few weeks back. His dance landed him in the hospital due to lacerations and swelling on his lower right leg, When the cast was removed, I got a good look his injuries. I'm not going to paint a vivid picture of what I saw, but trust me when I say this guy regretted kicking that fence.
Lowlight: When taking the heart rate of the P horse, I came up with a ludicrous number for a horse. After it came out of my mouth, I knew the number was way off but I didn't realize what I had done wrong. I made the rookie mistake of double counting the heartbeat. In a large animal hospital setting, I am very much a rookie.
After the treatment wrapped up, it was time to wake up sleepy P horse. This is always the exciting part of any procedure here. It is a delicate balance between delivering the reversal for anethesia and escaping before the animal has a chance to hurt anyone. During the sterilization and recasting of P Horse's leg, he was resting on a large foam pad with a vinyl cover similar to a large couch cushion.
When it was time to wake up, one of the animal care workers was overzealous in grabbing the pad from under the horse. The quick snatch coupled with the weight of the rolling P Horse resulted in the cover ripping and only to foam pad being removed. The vinyl cover ended up draped over the back of a now aggravated and confused P horse. Watching through a peep hole in the recovery room door, I had a front row seat to the unfolding drama.
A brave zookeeper stepped into the "danger zone" behind the horse. A kick from this well muscled stallion would easily shatter bone. The rest of his team stood outside the door with bated breath. He snatched the blue vinyl cover from the P Horses back as the horse turned to take a look at what was going on. While shouting "I'm OK", the zoo keeper made an exit that would have made Snagglepuss proud.
When the zookeeper walked past the windows of the vet hospital surrounded by his smiling pack of peers, we had a moment. My thumbs up said, "Good Job!". His confident nod said, "I know, just another day at the office".
Highlight: I managed to stick around for everyone's favorite endangered neonate's afternoon treatment. Caring for Amy Ray is where I prove my worth. I am happy to do whatever is needed to aid in her recovery.
When approached with a rake by the Head Vet, I replied that I am not above mucking stalls for her. To be truthful, I would do just about anything to come back to the Wilds on a Vet Externship during my fourth year of school. Perhaps even as a Resident Veterinarian in a quest for a Conservation Medicine specialization.
Each day, Amy Ray's treatment schedule gets a little bit shorter. The goal now is to support her until she is eatting on her own. I was tasked with observations after treatment was completed to see if she would eat from the feed buckets when her mother returned to the stall.
Amy Ray does not quite have the hang of this solid food thing yet. She follows her mother in a funny game of 'monkey see, monkey do'. Mom takes a step, Baby takes a step. Mom lowers her head, Baby lowers her head. Mom eats from the food buckets, Baby chews on Mom's ears. So close...
When tranquilizing a wild horse who is not happy to see you, you do not skimp on the chemical restraint. The name of the drug used today escapes me but the caution used was not lost. "I'm wearing gloves and goggles because if any of this gets into my system, it will kill me." Katie went on to explain that this drug is like morphine times one thousand. When she went to deliver the dose to the restrained horse, I took a step back and held my breath. One can never be too careful when death is on the line.
The P Horse took it all like a champ. When released from his physical restraint, he walked into the padded room and quietly went to sleep. Once the slumber was confirmed, all hands were on deck to move the great beast into the hospital room where today's exam would take place.
This P Horse had decided to tango with a wire fence a few weeks back. His dance landed him in the hospital due to lacerations and swelling on his lower right leg, When the cast was removed, I got a good look his injuries. I'm not going to paint a vivid picture of what I saw, but trust me when I say this guy regretted kicking that fence.
Lowlight: When taking the heart rate of the P horse, I came up with a ludicrous number for a horse. After it came out of my mouth, I knew the number was way off but I didn't realize what I had done wrong. I made the rookie mistake of double counting the heartbeat. In a large animal hospital setting, I am very much a rookie.
After the treatment wrapped up, it was time to wake up sleepy P horse. This is always the exciting part of any procedure here. It is a delicate balance between delivering the reversal for anethesia and escaping before the animal has a chance to hurt anyone. During the sterilization and recasting of P Horse's leg, he was resting on a large foam pad with a vinyl cover similar to a large couch cushion.
When it was time to wake up, one of the animal care workers was overzealous in grabbing the pad from under the horse. The quick snatch coupled with the weight of the rolling P Horse resulted in the cover ripping and only to foam pad being removed. The vinyl cover ended up draped over the back of a now aggravated and confused P horse. Watching through a peep hole in the recovery room door, I had a front row seat to the unfolding drama.
A brave zookeeper stepped into the "danger zone" behind the horse. A kick from this well muscled stallion would easily shatter bone. The rest of his team stood outside the door with bated breath. He snatched the blue vinyl cover from the P Horses back as the horse turned to take a look at what was going on. While shouting "I'm OK", the zoo keeper made an exit that would have made Snagglepuss proud.
When the zookeeper walked past the windows of the vet hospital surrounded by his smiling pack of peers, we had a moment. My thumbs up said, "Good Job!". His confident nod said, "I know, just another day at the office".
Highlight: I managed to stick around for everyone's favorite endangered neonate's afternoon treatment. Caring for Amy Ray is where I prove my worth. I am happy to do whatever is needed to aid in her recovery.
When approached with a rake by the Head Vet, I replied that I am not above mucking stalls for her. To be truthful, I would do just about anything to come back to the Wilds on a Vet Externship during my fourth year of school. Perhaps even as a Resident Veterinarian in a quest for a Conservation Medicine specialization.
Each day, Amy Ray's treatment schedule gets a little bit shorter. The goal now is to support her until she is eatting on her own. I was tasked with observations after treatment was completed to see if she would eat from the feed buckets when her mother returned to the stall.
Amy Ray does not quite have the hang of this solid food thing yet. She follows her mother in a funny game of 'monkey see, monkey do'. Mom takes a step, Baby takes a step. Mom lowers her head, Baby lowers her head. Mom eats from the food buckets, Baby chews on Mom's ears. So close...
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Day 17: "In West Virginia, It's a goral"
Today my time was split between the two worlds I live in here, field research and vet hospital. Lake team's morning was spent surveying my favorite lake yet. It is known as "Waterfall" by the staff here although I saw nothing which resembled Niagra Falls. .
Hiking into the survey site was one of the best hikes yet. It was pretty much a well defined path the entire trip. The trail began in a coniferous forest and ended in a deciduous forest. There was no sign of the lake until we crested the hill to find ourselves right on it's shoreline.
My survey time this morning was quite brief. I spent roughly a half hour on the water until my watch read 9:45. I waded back to the shore and picked up the radio to call the head veterinarian. After saying her call number, I was ready to ask the question I had been looking forward to since I woke.
Lowlight: Me: "Is the gORAL knockdown still a go for this morning?"
Head Vet: "Yes Ron, The Go-RAL procedure is still scheduled for Ten o'clock."
Apparently when I radioed her to check, she was in a meeting with all of the big shots at The Wilds. They had a good laugh at my mispronunciation of the name of the Chinese Goral. Thankfully, I don't mind embarrassing myself. It's worked out pretty well for me thus far.
The Goral was being brought in due to lameness on his right front leg. X-Rays revealed that the poor guy had an entirely fused carpal joint. On the bright side, it was on his front leg. Gorals rely heavily on their back legs for their trademark jumping and climbing abilities.
Highlight: During the Goral procedure, I trimmed my first hoof. It went better than I expected. When the Goral woke up from anesthesia, he had a full mani-pedi courtesy of the Hoofstock Salon.
After the exam, I noticed that it was very close to Amy Ray's afternoon treatment so with permission I stuck around. Sometime over the weekend, she decided that she is now a rodeo bull instead of a baby camel. She kicked, twisted and bucked around the barn stall like the star of a PBR Rodeo before calming down to allow us to check her bandages.
Between treatments, she would circle around us and repeat her bull impression. It was simply adorable. So much so that our normally serious vet whipped out her iPhone to get some video of Amy Ray bounding around like a big scary camel.
Her white blood cell count still indicates that she is fighting an infection. You would never know it by looking at her. She continues to dabble in solid food. Her mentation is bright and responsive. Before the end of her afternoon treatment, Amy Ray had walked around to greet everyone in the room.
Part of the rules I abide by here state that I am not permitted to post any images of collection animals taken in "non-visitor areas". I can't hardly wait until she is released back into her home pasture. I promise that you will get to see every snapshot when that day arrives.
Hiking into the survey site was one of the best hikes yet. It was pretty much a well defined path the entire trip. The trail began in a coniferous forest and ended in a deciduous forest. There was no sign of the lake until we crested the hill to find ourselves right on it's shoreline.
My survey time this morning was quite brief. I spent roughly a half hour on the water until my watch read 9:45. I waded back to the shore and picked up the radio to call the head veterinarian. After saying her call number, I was ready to ask the question I had been looking forward to since I woke.
Lowlight: Me: "Is the gORAL knockdown still a go for this morning?"
Head Vet: "Yes Ron, The Go-RAL procedure is still scheduled for Ten o'clock."
Apparently when I radioed her to check, she was in a meeting with all of the big shots at The Wilds. They had a good laugh at my mispronunciation of the name of the Chinese Goral. Thankfully, I don't mind embarrassing myself. It's worked out pretty well for me thus far.
The Goral was being brought in due to lameness on his right front leg. X-Rays revealed that the poor guy had an entirely fused carpal joint. On the bright side, it was on his front leg. Gorals rely heavily on their back legs for their trademark jumping and climbing abilities.
Highlight: During the Goral procedure, I trimmed my first hoof. It went better than I expected. When the Goral woke up from anesthesia, he had a full mani-pedi courtesy of the Hoofstock Salon.
After the exam, I noticed that it was very close to Amy Ray's afternoon treatment so with permission I stuck around. Sometime over the weekend, she decided that she is now a rodeo bull instead of a baby camel. She kicked, twisted and bucked around the barn stall like the star of a PBR Rodeo before calming down to allow us to check her bandages.
Between treatments, she would circle around us and repeat her bull impression. It was simply adorable. So much so that our normally serious vet whipped out her iPhone to get some video of Amy Ray bounding around like a big scary camel.
Her white blood cell count still indicates that she is fighting an infection. You would never know it by looking at her. She continues to dabble in solid food. Her mentation is bright and responsive. Before the end of her afternoon treatment, Amy Ray had walked around to greet everyone in the room.
Part of the rules I abide by here state that I am not permitted to post any images of collection animals taken in "non-visitor areas". I can't hardly wait until she is released back into her home pasture. I promise that you will get to see every snapshot when that day arrives.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Day 16: The Switch-A-Roo
The fact that frogs are evil creatures who constantly conspire against me is something that has been well documented on this blog. Today was a new high mark for the "Frog vs. Ron" saga. I am fairly sure that frogs on Pond Seventy-Two practice witchcraft.
When I exited the truck to begin the survey, I heard a bullfrog calling from the corner of the pond. I carefully made my way toward the trill sound. I could hear my amphibian foe right next to me, but was unable to locate him.
Standing quietly, I intently scanned the base of the reeds for several minutes. When I finally located the source of the frog calls, I found him staring at me. The frog was hiding slightly more than an arm's length away.
At this point, I has two options. I could try to catch this little bugger with my bare hands or I could attempt to net him. Since this was the first time I had brought my fishing net from home into the field with me, I opted for the net.
When I swiped down I could see him trapped under my net. "Nowhere to run to now", I thought to myself with a grin. That's when it happened. As I raised my net, the frog was completely absent. In place of the frog was a large female banded sac spider speeding toward me. I have no doubt that some form of frog dark arts is responsible for this trick.
Highlight: Largely due to my new Chest Waders (Thanks Dad!!), I was able to reach places which I had not previously been able to survey. When I finally returned to the truck at the end of the day, my feet were dry for the first time since we began this journey three weeks ago.
Lowlight: I also returned to the truck completely empty handed. Another frog lured me into a treacherous area of the pond. Before today, I had never climbed a tree underwater before. I do not look forward to attempting that again.
When I exited the truck to begin the survey, I heard a bullfrog calling from the corner of the pond. I carefully made my way toward the trill sound. I could hear my amphibian foe right next to me, but was unable to locate him.
Standing quietly, I intently scanned the base of the reeds for several minutes. When I finally located the source of the frog calls, I found him staring at me. The frog was hiding slightly more than an arm's length away.
At this point, I has two options. I could try to catch this little bugger with my bare hands or I could attempt to net him. Since this was the first time I had brought my fishing net from home into the field with me, I opted for the net.
When I swiped down I could see him trapped under my net. "Nowhere to run to now", I thought to myself with a grin. That's when it happened. As I raised my net, the frog was completely absent. In place of the frog was a large female banded sac spider speeding toward me. I have no doubt that some form of frog dark arts is responsible for this trick.
Highlight: Largely due to my new Chest Waders (Thanks Dad!!), I was able to reach places which I had not previously been able to survey. When I finally returned to the truck at the end of the day, my feet were dry for the first time since we began this journey three weeks ago.
Lowlight: I also returned to the truck completely empty handed. Another frog lured me into a treacherous area of the pond. Before today, I had never climbed a tree underwater before. I do not look forward to attempting that again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)