Transplants

The area I was covering at this time consisted of lush farm land, rolling hills and corn fields. Up until the 1960's, my county had consisted mostly of farms and farmland. However it's close proximity to Washington DC and Dulles Airport made for a popular place for government workers to settle with their families. In the 1960s the eastern portion of the county, the farms of old, began disappearing and were replaced by sprawling planned communities. The western portion of the county, however, has seen slower growth over the years than that area closest to DC. The western area is still more sparsely populated, and continues to have the feel of a farm based community. It's therefore not unusual for the officers assigned to "The West" to get calls about livestock and wildlife.  Even so, there is a lot of new construction going on within these few remaining farming communities, as suburbia tries to close the gab between urban and rural. New upscale subdivisions, “McMansions” as we Natives call them, spring up in a matter of weeks. One day horses and cattle graze in pastures, and the next the land is surveyed, subdivided, and under construction; farm animals are replaced by heavy equipment ready to move the earth. A sort of sadness overtakes the land when what was once farmland is no more. The area is changing faster than I can keep up.

When the newly transplanted Mcmansion owners, (people who are usually from the "city"), move into the new country homes, they are, without exception, unprepared to coexist with the wildlife who still live in and call  "home", the front yard of the proud, yet unsuspecting, new homeowner. Eager to start their new lives on their 1-5 acre lots the new residents are filled with excitement to be living in the country. How quickly reality does set in!  You watch as they militarize their homes against invading wildlife. Six foot deer fencing is erected. Strategically placed circles of moth balls are deployed to ward off snakes. Bat houses line the back yard, flood lights capable of guiding an incoming 747 are installed, with a surveillance camera added for good measure, to oversee the entire operation.

Even with all their hard work they are still worried about the local wildlife. The calls pour into dispatch: "I have kids and they are most certainly going to be attacked by the wildlife. Come quickly and remove everything! Johnny could be eaten by a rabid raccoon and little Fluffy will certainly be carried away by a rouge hawk."

Often time the newer and less knowledgeable people will call about livestock. It can go from one extreme to the other.  The most frequent of questions comes in the spring time. The complainant is perplexed because someone has gone onto the neighbor’s horse farm and blind folded all of the horses. We kindly explain the practice of using fly masks and reassure them that no one is mistreating the horses, and to please climb back over the fence and kindly stop removing the “blindfolds” from the horses as they are a necessity this time of year.

 A call came in for an injured cow. The way the complaint came in is memorable. It was explained that the cow was standing but that something was very wrong.  She was deformed! According to the complaint, there was a lot of tissue near the rear of the animal and an extra set of feet. I immediately recognized that the cow was laboring and trying to deliver a calf. When I arrived on scene the birthing was finished. A large still-born bull calf had been delivered. The mother was down on the ground and in a bad way. Trailing behind her was her uterus. This is called a prolapse, and for all of you who don’t have a good imagination the cow uterus is enormous, so think about that for a minute. The cow had continued to strain in labor, even after the calf was born, until she expelled her uterus. A disturbing sight for the uninitiated newcomer, to say the least.

 Unable to locate the farm owner I called a local veterinarian who was on the road and able to come assist. This veterinarian is your typical old time cow veterinarian. Everything is taken very literally and without fuss. He jumps right in grabbing, tugging and pushing things to and fro. His bed side manner is that of an alligator that just swallowed razor blades but his technique and skills are the best I have ever seen.

The uterus is a large organ, and so you can imagine that once it’s been on the ground it’s, well a little bit dirty. The day was cold and so on top of dirty it was starting to freeze. The entire scene looked like it belonged in a cheaply made horror movie. What it must have looked like as he and I lugged around a giant uterus, all the time trying to keep the cow sternal. Picking off large pieces of debris and cleaning the  carunculas (cool word had to use it). Then it was time, to put it all back in.

The cow was hobbled to prevent her from leaving and gloves where donned. The procedure was comparable to stuffing a turkey, but on a larger scale. You weren't allowed to have any leftovers- it all had to go back in. The cow, however didn't want the large protuberance to be shoved back in. She had a much different idea, of pushing it all back out. Time after time the vet and I struggled, pushing on this fleshy monstrosity, trying to get the uterus back inside, past and over the anatomical cliff of the pelvis, and settle back into place. Each time we thought we'd succeeded, the cow would give a mighty push, and out would plop the uterus once again. Eventually we did managed to push it in one final time and have it stay. That was when the veterinarian said these words:  "Emergency, temporary and shoe lace"… So like any good assistant, I removed my shoe lace and watched in uncertainty and fascination, as he set forth sterilizing the lace and stitched it into the cows vulva. An image that cannot be removed from my mind. At the end of the procedure, following a large dose of antibiotics, the veterinarian packed up and without saying a word walked away. I sat with cow for a while, like she was a victim of some sort of personal violation. She appeared to be recovering from this traumatic event. I gently covered her baby with a blanket, the least I could do and I too walked away.