Bovine Piercing

 D. E. Larsen, DVM

Otto was sitting on a stool by the barn door when I pulled up the drive.

“Doc, I am a little surprised. You are right on time,” Otto said as I extended my hand to shake. “I thought I would have time for a little nap.”

“You know how it is, Otto,” I said. “I make every effort to stay on time. It’s just that there are always things that get in the way.”

“My bull will appreciate it,” Otto said. “He is not too happy being locked up in the old stanchion.”

“Let’s get a look at him,” I said. “The girls at the office said you wanted me to put a ring in his nose.”

“Yes, if you could put a ring in his nose, and I would like you to cut his horns off, also,” Otto said. “Nils told me you use a little wire instead of those big whackers that the old man uses.”

“See, that is one of those things that get me behind schedule,” I said with a smile. 

This was an old dairy barn with a long row of stanchions. Otto had his bull, Romeo, locked in one of these stanchions. I was expecting a young bull, but this was an older red bull. 

“This is one big bull, Otto,” I said. “Are you sure this stanchion is going to hold him?”

“He is pretty gentle,” Otto said. “And Nils said that when you did his heifers, they didn’t know anything happened to them.”

I scratched the bull on his back as I looked him over. He was trying to eat a little of the grain Otto had in front of him, but his neck was so thick, he couldn’t reach the bottom of the feed rack with the stanchion closed.

“Are you going to have enough room to work?” Otto asked.

“If you help me carry things around in front of him, I think I will be fine,” I said. “He is big enough that I won’t need to get into the feed rack. If I can get a halter onto his head, I will be okay.”

Otto had a leather halter the fit just right. It was a little tight for everyday wear, but it was going to work well for this procedure. With a lead rope attached to the halter, I tied Romeo’s head to the left. I clipped the hair around the base of the horn and applied Betadine to the area. With a syringe filled with lidocaine, I did nerve blocks around the base of his right horn. That meant I injected lidocaine at the three, six, nine, and twelve spots around the horn, like the numbers on a clock. Then I turned the head to the right and clipped and similarly blocked the left horn.

Romeo was starting to wonder what was going on when I turned his head back to the left and stretched it as tight as I could before I tied the rope. I placed a length of OB wire around the base of the right horn and glanced at Otto before I started to saw on the horn. Otto was watching every move I made with deep concentration but without saying a word so far.

“That little wire is going saw that horn off?” Otto asked.

“Yes, I think you will be impressed,” I said. “These bull horns are thick and takes a lot of work for the saw. The good thing about that is the wire gets so hot that the blood vessels are cauterized, and we probably won’t lose a drop of blood.”

I leaned back as I started with long strokes with the wire saw. It only took a moment before smoke rose from the base of the horn.

“My gosh,” Otto said. “That smells just like the old-time dentist drill.

“My thoughts, exactly,” I said as I quickened the speed of my strokes. “The good old smell of burnt bone.”

I took a deep breath when the horn finally popped off. The now tightly coiled length of OB wire was white-hot, and it sizzled when I dropped it in the bucket of water. 

“Notice, there is no blood,” I said to Otto as I motioned to the opening into the frontal sinus. 

“What do you do with that hole?” Otto asked. 

“I am going to pull these blood vessels out first, and then I will put a piece of filter paper over the hole. The paper will just be a temporary covering for a few days. This wound will heal, and the bone will cover that hole. when he is healed, Romeo will look like he was a polled bull.”

“There is no bleeding,” Otto said. “Why are you going to pull the blood vessels?”

“By pulling the vessels out, they stretch and break off deep in the tissues. That allows a secure clot to form. If I didn’t pull these, and Romeo goes out and rubs his head on a stump, he will open the vessels, and they will bleed like the devil.”

With a forceps, I grabbed the largest vessel at the six o’clock position. I pulled it until it broke off, with the vessels snapping back into the tissues, leaving about an inch of an artery in the grasp of my forceps. 

“Look at the size of this blood vessel,” I said. “This would bleed for three days if it wasn’t pulled out. When I was a kid, maybe six or seven, the decision was made to dehorn all the milk cows in the herd. They used the same guillotine type dehorner that is still in use today by some people. There was no anesthesia. The cows bellowed, some even when to their knees. They swabbed the wounds with pine tar and turned them out. Blood spurting out of both sides of their heads as they went out of the barn. Those cows bled for three days. I have no idea how much milk production was lost with that procedure. But I learned, way back then, that I would never use those dehorners.”

After pulling all the vessels on the right horn, I turned Romeo’s head back to the right and repeated the procedure. When I released his head for a moment to rest, he had a completely different appearance.

“He is going to look pretty fancy now,” Otto said. “And I didn’t notice him acting like he felt a thing.”

“Now, for the nose ring,” I said. “They told me you had your own ring.”

“Yes, I bought this ring, and the guy at the feed store said you just shove the sharp end through his nose,” Otto said. “After I talked to Nils, we decided I should get you out to do the shoving and to dehorn him at the same time.”

“Nils probably saved your life,” I said. “You try shoving the sharp end of this nose ring through Romeo’s nasal septum without any anesthesia, and you probably would have one pissed-off bull. And he is no little guy.”

“That’s just about what Nils said,” Otto said.

“Let me tie his head again, and I will show you an easy way to do this,” I said. 

I tied Romeo’s head to a center post in the barn, stretching his head straight out. Then I wiped some Betadine in his nose. I palpated the fleshy septal area and injected it with lidocaine.

“If you ever do one of these in a young bull, there is a bone in that septum if you go too far into the nose,” I said as I let Otto feel the fleshy septum in front of the bone.

“I see, now they never said a thing about that at the feed store,” Otto said.

I took my rumen trocar with a sleeve on it and shoved it through the nasal septum with only a little force. Then, removing the trocar, the hollow sleeve remained through the nasal septum.

“Let’s look at that nose ring,” I said to Otto.

These ring were made with two half circles of brass. Hooked together at one side with a hinge joint, and then the sharp piece dovetailed into the groove on the other end, and a screw secured this joint. 

I removed the screw, stuck the sharp end into the hollow trocar, and pulled it through the tissue. I closed the ring and placed the screw back into the joint. 

“How you’re all set, and Romeo thanks you for making sure everything was done with some anesthesia.”

I started to scratch Romeo’s head, and then I heard the voice of both my father and grandfather. “Never play with the head of a bull. It doesn’t matter how old he is, even a calf. You don’t play with their head.”

I cut some filter paper to cover the frontal sinus holes. I sprinkled a little antibiotic powder into the sinuses and then covered them with the filter paper, held in place with a bit of backtag cement.

We turned Romeo out and watched him as he headed back to the pasture. Acting like nothing had happened.

Photo by Павел Хлыстунов from Pixels

From the Archives, one year ago

Wicked Witch of the West, click the link:

https://docsmemoirs.com/2020/09/25/the-wicked-witch-of-the-west/

Einstein’s Stove

D. E. Larsen, DVM

“Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. “Einstein’s quote came to mind every fall in Sweet Home. The story was always the same.

   “Sally, what do we have going on with Ralph today?” I asked. 

   Ralph was a large tabby cat about 6 years old. He was a neutered male, and he had the run of the house. Plus, he had a cat door that allowed him to come and as he pleased.

   Ralph was sort of a favorite patient of mine. He had the same name and a similar appearance to our first cat, which we lost to feline leukemia.

  “I have no idea, Doc,” Sally said. “All of a sudden, he is just lying around. It is not like Ralph to hardly get up for his dinner. He has only eaten a couple of bites in the last three days. When he does get up, it looks like he is walking on marbles or something.”

   “Well, let’s get a look at him,” I said as I rubbed Ralph on his head. Ralph raised his head and pushed back against my hand. He still showed some interest in the little things he enjoyed.

   Ralph’s temperature was slightly elevated, but his vital signs and clinical exam were normal. Normal, that is until I rolled him over onto his back. Virtually all of Ralph’s digital pads were blistered, including his large carpal pads of both front feet.

   “Sally, do you have a wood stove?” I asked.

   “Oh, yes,” Sally said. “And Ralph loves it. This summer, I kept his favorite plant on it all summer long. It became Ralph’s favorite spot for his afternoon nap. He would curl up around his plant and sleep. It was so cute. I took a few pictures of him.”

  “And when it turned cold last weekend, I would guess George built you a roaring fire in it,” I said.

  “Oh, yes,” Sally said. “There is nothing like a big fire to warm the house on a cold morning. George was up early on Saturday morning and built a large fire. We sat in front of it with our morning coffee, and the kids huddled around us when they finally got up. I love it!”

   “And later in the morning, I would guess that Ralph jumped up there for his nap,” I said.

  Sally looked at me with an expression of surprise that quickly changed to concern.

   “Oh, no!” Sally said. “Do you think that is what is wrong with Ralph?”

   “If we look at Ralph’s footpads, they are almost all blistered,” I said. “On the top of a hot stove, it only takes a second to cause such a burn. I would guess that Ralph landed on the stovetop and jumped off as fast as he could. It was just not fast enough to avoid some serious burns on his feet.”

   “Is there anything we can do to help him now?” Sally asked.

   “We can clean these up and wrap them for a few days,” I said. “Depending on how they come along, we might have to change the wraps a time or two. That, and antibiotics and some tincture of time and Ralph will return to his old self.”

***

    Ralph healed quickly, and after a couple of wrap changes at three-day intervals, he was pretty much good to go.

    “I think we can do without his wraps now,” I said. “But I think you should keep his cat door locked for another week or so. And make sure you shoo him away from the stove.”

    “Ralph feels so much better,” Sally said. “He thanks you, and I thank you. But Ralph so wants to go outside. He stands in front of his cat door and meows while looking at me. That door has never been locked before. I feel so guilty for all of this. I just can believe that I set him up for such an injury.

“Don’t punish yourself too much, Sally,” I said. “This is an injury I often see this time of the year. I see cats in the fall, almost always from a wood stove. And I see dogs in the summer from the hot pavement.”

“I won’t happen again in our house,” Sally said.

Photo by Dominika Roseclay from Pexels.