Free Vet Among the Pigeons by Gillian Hick Page A

and relief of both Seamus and Arthur), things began to get out of hand. I wasn’t overly worried when Sean, the local forester, arrived in one day.We knew him well, as he kept his own horse and had a few working spaniels. But, apart from his own animals, he also had a great interest in wildlife and, in particular, birds. He was the nicest type of client: terribly knowledgeable but always open to advice. In all honesty, I’d say that I learnt as much from him as he did from me in the time we knew each other.
    He was the type of person who was always in good form, but today his face was grim. The forest he managed had attracted a pair of nesting buzzards, which he watched with the care of a proud parent.
    ‘Wait till you see this,’ he said glumly as he hauled out a huge bird-bag, usually used for transporting swans. I was stunned to see not the graceful head of a swan, but that of a buzzard, flopping out of the bag.
    ‘Wow! It is a buzzard, isn’t it?’ I asked, unused to seeing one up close.
    ‘One of the pair nesting in the forest,’ he confirmed. ‘I heard the other one shrieking while I was down with the saplings and I thought maybe something was attacking the nest. I found this one collapsed below it.’
    Between us, we examined the bird. Initially, I was enthralled to have access to such a beautiful creature at such close quarters. The wing span, at full stretch, was wider than the length of our generously-sized consulting table. The mottled brown breast was well-rounded, indicating that the bird had been healthy until whatever catastrophe had struck.
    A detailed examination, with Sean keeping a firm hold of the powerful talons, didn’t reveal much, other than thatthe bird was severely weakened. I scanned through various forms of infectious diseases, poisonings, trauma, among other things, but I wasn’t convinced by any of my tentative diagnoses. Being the Friday evening of a bank holiday weekend, no other help was available.
    ‘All we can do,’ I said to Sean, ‘is treat the symptoms and see how he gets on.’
    Adjusting the little bit of knowledge I did have, I gave him fluids infused with a carefully measured amount of glucose, some antibiotic and a steroid to combat his shocked state. Sean took the bird home with him, but the next day, although the buzzard seemed to be a bit stronger, he was still unable to rise. By the Sunday morning , I was becoming more concerned as there was no further improvement and his weight was dropping despite force-feeding him select cuts of natural prey. ‘Why don’t we radiograph him?’ I suggested. ‘It might just give us some clues.’
    ‘Whatever you think,’ replied Sean. ‘Sure, it can do no harm anyway.’
    Although the buzzard was still very weak, the powerful beak and talons still worried me. Extrapolating from a sedation regime that I had used on other birds, I cautiously injected a lowered dose into the patient. Then I pulled out the largest cassette that we had in the practice, with the appropritate film. But the usual bags that we used to position the patient worried me due to their weight, which I felt might inhibit the bird’s delicate breathing. Ingeniously, I thought, I used some Sellotape to tape his neck in place as this plan had worked well with the few reptiles I’dpreviously needed to radiograph. Despite our efforts, the resultant radiograph, although spectacular, shed no further light on the mystery. Problems arose when the buzzard came around a bit quicker than expected, probably as a result of my overly-cautious anaesthetic dose. The Sellotape was by now firmly stuck to the bird’s feathers and in my haste to free him, the feathers came out with the tape, leaving a two-centimetre bald collar in the previously immaculate plumage.
    ‘He looks more like a bald eagle now,’ joked Sean.
    I had mixed feelings on the Tuesday morning when I rang the Department of Agriculture to report the bird, as it is illegal to keep any bird of prey without a