There is Gold in Them Hills

D. E. Larsen, DVM

It was 11:10, and Bob should be coming through the door any minute. He was sort of the highlight of our morning in the office. Bob had been our Postman ever since the office opened. He was older, probably getting close to retirement, but he was a joy to talk with.

I think he must have us as a scheduled break on his route. He always seemed to have several minutes to talk. Bob was a Sweet Home native or as close as one could be to a native. He knew everyone in town. If we wanted to know about someone, Bob could give a pretty good synopsis. 

Bob could talk gold. He knew where to look in every stream, and he shares that information only to a trusted few. I liked to think I was one of those entrusted few. Bob had lost a son who was my age, a Lieutenant in the Army. In those years of the Vietnam War, Bob was probably preparing himself for his son serving in the war. Instead, he was driving home from the East Coast, and died in an auto accident.

The reality of the thing was he knew I was too busy to chase any of his stories.

We bumped into Bob one afternoon when he was panning gold with a friend. Bob took the time to give the kids and me a lesson on how to work the pan. We came up with a lot of black sand but no color. Bob truly enjoyed teaching his hobby to the kids, including myself. Hobby was probably the wrong word. I think gold was Bob’s true vocation. His postal job and any other work in his life only allowed him to pursue his real life’s work.

Bob told me a story one day about one of his trips to the California goldfields. He and a group of friends would make an annual trip to the areas out of Sacramento, California to pan for gold. This was a working trip for this group of guys. They would rework some of the same streams that were the site of the 1849 gold rush.  

Bob said that on one of these trips, they had a new guy along. He was always underfoot and trying to learn every little thing he could from these old guys. Bob finally tired of putting up with this guy. Bob pointed to a distant sandbar up the creek.

“Why don’t you go up there and work that sandbar,” Bob said.

The guy took his shovel and pan and headed up to the sandbar that Bob had pointed out. Bob and the rest of the crew continued to work with the dredge where they had been all morning.

“That was the biggest damn mistake that I ever made,” Bob said to me. “Just before quitting time that afternoon, this guy comes down the creek with a gold nugget the size of the end of your finger. I was so mad at myself after that, I almost couldn’t eat dinner.”

One August afternoon, we had a new client, Rob, came in with his dog, Yoda, a pit bull cross. Yoda had a pretty severe laceration on his large pad on his right front foot. Yoda was camping with his owner way up the Calapoolia River at the mouth of State Creek.

“Yoda spends most of the day in the river with me,” Rob said. “If he is not in the river, he is chasing a squirrel somewhere up the creek. I don’t know when this happened, I noticed him licking his foot last night, and then this morning he was limping on that foot quite a bit.”

Yoda was an excellent dog, and he didn’t flinch while I examined his foot. This was a deep laceration that extended halfway across the carpal pad, front to back. It was deep also. This was going to be challenging to get healed. Especially in a dog who was used to spending a lot of the day in the river.

“Pad lacerations are difficult to manage, in the best of circumstances,” I said to Rob. “In a dog who is spending a lot of his time in the river, it might be impossible.”

“I can keep him out of the water for a couple of weeks,” Rob said. “I am not on any schedule, I am just spending the summer up there panning for gold.”

“I suture most of these,” I said. “By suturing them and keeping them wrapped for a couple of weeks, most of them will heal. If we can’t keep a dry wrap on the foot, there is little chance that the sutures will hold.”

“When can you do this?” Rob asked. “Keep in mind, I am a long way from camp.”

“I can probably do it shortly,” I said. “But it is going to take a little time from Yoda to wake up.”

“This dog is the toughest dog I have ever owned,” Rob said. “You could probably sew this up with giving him anything. Is there any chance you could do it with local anesthesia?”

“We can try,” I said. “Yoda will let us know if that is an option or not.”

We moved Yoda into the surgery room. Laid him down on his side. He did not react as we started scrubbing the wound. Rob stood on the opposite side of the table from me and scratched Yoda’s ears. 

I drew up a syringe of Lidocaine and looked at Rob.

“We are going to find out right now, this stuff stings a little, I hate it myself,” I said.

Avoiding the laceration, I slid the needle through the skin at the front edge of the pad. Injecting a little at a time as I advanced the needle under the pad. I injected half the syringe here and then repeated the process from the back edge of the pad.

After a few minutes, I parted the edges of the laceration. There was no response from Yoda. Spreading the wound wide, I scraped the deep crevice of the wound. I applied some Neosporin to the in the wound and wiped it out with a sterile sponge. Then I draped the wound.

Taking a deep breath, I stabbed the pad with a suture needle. There was no response from Yoda. I glanced and Rob and smiled as I continued to close the wound. In this type of deep pad lacerations, I would use a deep vertical mattress suture using stints, made from IV tubing, on each side to spread the tension across the wound edges so the stitches would not tear the tissues.

Closure only took a few minutes. And then I applied a wrap that extended halfway up the leg. 

“The key to healing this wound is the wrap,” I said. “If it gets wet, it needs to be changed. Otherwise, we will change it every 3rd day. Is that a schedule that will work for you?”

“I can work with that schedule,” Rob said as he let Yoda stand up on the table.

“I will put him on some antibiotics just to make sure we keep the infection down as much as possible,” I said.

With that, Rob and Yoda headed back to camp. We started on their schedule of regular visits. Rob did a great job of keeping the wrap dry, and the wound looked better with each wrap change. After two weeks, we had a decision to make.

“We could go without the wrap starting now,” I said. “This wound looks good, but I really would like to go one more week.”

“The squirrels are going to love you, Doc,” Rob said.

The following week we removed the wrap and the sutures. This wound healed as well as any pad laceration that I had managed. I patted Yoda on the head when I set him down on the floor. 

“It has been fun working with Yoda,” I said as I shook hands with Rob. “It has been good working for you too. How long are you going to be around these parts?”

“I will probably break camp in a couple of weeks,” Rob said. “You never know about a guy like me, I might back next year, or I might be in Colorado.”

As the days passed, Rob and Yoda sort of slipped to the back of my mind. I was a little surprised when Rob was in the reception room one afternoon. He motioned to me, indicating he had something to show me. I invited him back into the exam area, and he looked at an empty exam room and stepped into it.

“I have to show this, Doc,” Rob said. “I saw this under a large boulder, and it took me three days to get to it.”

Rob had something wrapped in a square of rawhide in his left hand. He held his hand out as he peeled back the folds of rawhide. There, in the palm of his left hand, was the largest gold nugget that I had ever seen. I didn’t have words.

“Wow!” I said.

“This is what keeps us guys with gold fever going,” Rob said.

It was a few days later when I had time to meet Bob when he came through the door with the mail.

“Bob, I have a story to tell you,” I said.

“Will now, that is a switch,” Bob said, “you telling a story.”

“Bob, I just spent a few weeks working on a dog for a guy who was camped up the Calapoolia River at the mouth of State Creek,” I started.

“I know the area,” Bob said.

“He came into the clinic the other day with a nugget wrapped in a piece of rawhide,” I said. “This nugget covered the palm of his hand and was over an inch thick.” 

I motioned on my hand the size of the nugget. Bob grabbed my forearm, his eyes wide open, and his pupils expanded as wide as possible. 

“No!” Bob said, “I have been all over that river and that area. There is gold there, quite a bit of the stuff. But it is all small, tiny stuff really. I have never seen a nugget come out of the Calapoolia.”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said. “That was the biggest nugget I have ever seen.”

“That is a $20,000 nugget, maybe $30,000,” Bob said. “But, I can’t believe it came out of the Calapoolia.”

“I guess, when I think about it, he never specifically said it came out of the Calapoolia, I just assumed it,” I said. “He has been camped up there most of the summer.”

“Now you have done it,” Bob said. “I am not going to be able to sleep until I can get up there and start looking through the place myself.”

Photo by Csaba Nagy from Pixabay

The Pointed Quill

D. E. Larsen, DVM

“Doc, my old Tank dog, just came home tonight with a few porcupine quills in his mouth,” Ed said into the phone.

I wonder why they either call at dinner time or 3:00 in the morning, I thought to myself as I listened to Ed, hoping I could get back to the table before everyone was done eating.

“I hear that I should be able to pull them out myself,” Ed continues, “what do you think of that idea.”

“Some guys do it,” I said. “I don’t know how they get it done. Most of the time the dog is going to get real tired of the process pretty quick. I just put them under an anesthetic before I start. It’s a lot easier that way, and you don’t end up with a lot of broken and buried quills.”

“He is not too bad,” Ed said, “I might try to pull a few tonight and see how he does. If I have any problems, I will just bring him into the office in the morning.”

“That will be okay,” I said. “Try to get Tank there early, right at 8:00, and I will have some time to take care of him. I have a farm call scheduled for 10:00, and it is going to take me a few hours.”

“If I’m coming, I will be waiting for you at 8:00,” Ed said as he hung up the phone.

Ed was waiting at the door with Tank when I pulled up to the clinic. I could see from the truck Ed’s assessment of quill numbers was a bit off. He said a few quills, old Tank’s mouth, and face was a mass of quills. Probably 200 quills. Just like with eyes, you could never trust a client to evaluate the number and severity of porcupine quills.

“I would say that Tank has a few more quills than a few,” I said to Ed as I was unlocking the front door to the clinic. “I am going to have to get started on him right away, or I will be behind schedule all day.”

“I pulled a couple of quills out last night, and Tank said that was enough, in no uncertain terms,” Ed said as Dixie took Tank and headed for the treatment table.

“We will get him taken care of right away,” I said. “It will take him some time to wake up, and I will want to check him when I get back from the farm call. We will have him ready to go home anytime after 3:00.”

With that, we had Tank on the table, and I gave him a dose of IV Pentathol. Placing an endotracheal tube in a dog with a mouth full of quills can be a painful experience. My usual procedure was to hold the mouth open with a mouth gag, pull the tongue forward with my left hand and hold the epiglottis down with my index finger of the left hand. I could then guide the tube in place, with the whole procedure taking only a few seconds. With a mouth full of quills, there was no way I could stick a hand in that mouth. I would have to use a laryngoscope, it would work okay, just a little more cumbersome.

Tank was under anesthesia, and we started pulling quills. The porcupine quill is sort of barbed. Under the microscope, the tip of the quill sort looks like a shingled roof. When they are pulled, it takes slow, steady pressure, or you will break the tip off. I always hear from clients that it is easier if you cut the backend of the quill off, allowing the air inside the quill to escape, and pulling them is easier. I have never found that to make any noticeable difference.

I pulled the quills with a forceps, holding the skin in place with a finger so as not to bury any small quills in the area. Pull a quill, place it in a pan of water to facilitate getting it off the forceps and easier cleanup. With this many quills, the whole process takes an hour. I have to hurry to keep on schedule.

I would see most porcupine quills in the fall. I think this was because the porcupines were forced to come down out of the trees for water since we were at the end of the dry period. 

Most of the time, one episode was enough to teach the dog that he didn’t want to mess the critters. One time in Enumclaw, I saw 3 dogs, daily for 3 days. Each day there was a different dog with the majority of the quills, and the other two would only have a couple of quills. On the third day, the owner confessed that he was going to have to go porcupine hunting.

Jack was the one exception to the rule.  Jack was a Cocker Spaniel. Like all Cockers, his activity level often exceeded his judgment. I pulled porcupine quills out of Jack at least 5 times, maybe 6.

I have seen a couple of cows with quills in their nose. I have never seen a horse with quills. One cat came in with quills completely through his front legs. It looked like he must have jumped on the porcupine.

Sandy and I were just starting to get ready for bed one Friday evening when the phone rang. It was Cathy, one of their pups had porcupine quills.

“Hello, this is Cathy, the pups have been gone since dinner time, and they just came home,” she says. “Kirk has porcupine quills. Could you take care of him tonight. I would hate for him to have to suffer until morning.”

“I could probably meet you at the clinic,” I said. “Did you check Spock? Many times if one has a lot of quills, the other one will at least have a few.”

“Sam checked them both over pretty well,” Cathy said. “Kirk is the only one with quills. It will take us half an hour to get to the clinic.”

“I will meet you there,” I said.

Looking at Sandy, I said, “I hope this isn’t an all-night affair. People are just not able to make a good judgment call on porcupine quills.”

Both Sam and Cathy were waiting when I pulled up the front of the clinic. They came up behind me when I started to unlock the front door. Kirk was standing with his head sticking between them. He looked at me with his mouth open, tongue hanging out, and panting. Kirk was probably still excited about the hunt and the ride to town. He had 2 quills stuck in the end of his nose.

I hooked a finger behind his canine tooth and raised his nose so I could get a good look to make sure there weren’t any quills in his mouth.

“Is that all he has?” I asked Sam.

“That is all I could find,” Sam said.

I put my door key in my pocket and, with one quick motion, grabbed both quills and plucked them out of Kirk’s nose. I brushed the blood droplets that sprang from the holes with the heel of my hand. Kirk stood there with his tail wagging.

“Let’s go home. Do you want these?” I said, holding the two quills out to Sam. “They are sort of interesting if you can get them under a microscope.”

Sam took the quills, looking a little confused at how fast the problem was handled.

“Do we owe you anything?” Cathy asked. 

“I didn’t have to open the door, I think we are square,” I said.

Photo by Free Nature Stock from Pexels.

The Elk Hunt

D. E. Larsen, DVM

We worked to stay concealed in the sparse cover as the 4 elk cows came down to the flat in front of us. We could see the bull hanging back, very cautious, and unsure if the apples were worth the risk. He is a large bull, a 5 point, with beautiful antlers. Finally, he slowly came down the hill and moved out onto the flat.

Frank stepped out and took the shot. Pop! It was a good shot with the dart buried into his hip. The bull jumped but returned his attention to the apples quickly. 

“It won’t be long,” I said. “This new drug should have him under control in a few minutes.”

Capture guns were just becoming available in the 1970’s. These guns used Nicotine Sulfate as an immobilizing agent. Nicotine Sulfate was a drug with a very narrow margin of safety and no antidote. It was, in fact, dangerous to both the target animal and the people doing the shooting.

One of our favorite drug salesman, Fred, told a story involving his experience with a capture gun using Nicotine Sulfate. Fred had stopped at a clinic on his routine rounds. The veterinarian was just getting ready to go on a farm call when Fred arrived. The veterinarian was going to castrate a 600-pound hog. He had just purchased a capture gun, and this was going to be the first time he used the capture gun. And he was using Nicotine Sulfate. He invited Fred to go along with him on the call.

They got to the farm, and the people had the hog in a small shed. The veterinarian loaded the gun with a 600-pound dose of Nicotine Sulfate. This shed had a couple of doors and a window. The veterinarian was at one door, and he sent Fred around to the other door to move the hog into a better position. The veterinarian aimed and fired the dart. The dart glanced off the hog and hit Fred in his lower leg. Luckily, Fred was wearing a pair of cowboy boots. The dart stuck in his boot near the top, discharged and shot the dose into his boot.

Had that dose been injected into Fred, who was probably 150 pounds if he was soaking wet, it would have undoubtedly killed him. Rapid emergency care probably would have been to no avail. On the trip back to the clinic, they stopped at a dumpster behind a restaurant.  The veterinarian dumps the capture gun into the dumpster, and nothing more is said.

Today we are using Sernalyn, a new drug for us, with this capture gun. Sernalyn is a disassociative anesthetic, twenty times more potent than Ketamine, the commonly used drug in this class. Because it can be used in a small dose, it works well in a capture gun dart. It is a very useful immobilizing agent. It’s problem; because of its concentration, it has a very high street value and is on the chopping block to be discontinued.

Today we plan to cut the antlers off this bull. Last week when this guy started to rut, he killed one of the small Sika Deer bucks in his pasture. One swipe with the antlers, and he pierced the little buck’s chest, putting an antler tine through his heart.

The bull continues to eat a few apples after being darted. Then he staggers slightly and turns in a tight circle. As he stumbles around the flat area, he notices the 5-gallon steel bucket that had been used to carry the apples. Frank had set the bucket down in the pasture after spreading the apples around the area.

The bull approaches the bucket and turns his head as he tries to get a good look at the bucket. Then, with a flick of his head, he pierces the bucket with his antler and picks it up. Walking around now with a 5-gallon bucket on top of his right antler. He staggers toward the small group of cows.

The cows recognize that things are not right with the bull, and they quickly trot back up the hill. The bull stumbles and goes down to his knees, then he settles to the ground. He stays on his sternum briefly and then flops to his side.

I approached the bull with caution. Kicking him on his butt to make sure that he is completely immobile. I remove the dart and pluck some hair around the injection site. It looks fine, but I flush it with Betadine just to be sure there is no infection.

Moving to his head, I apply a hefty dose of ointment to both eyes. This class of drug suppresses the blink reflex, and the ointment is needed to protect the surface of the eye from drying. 

Then I do a clinical exam, check his teeth, heart and lungs, gut sounds, testicles, and penis. Everything is normal. Then I hold off the jugular vein with my left hand and draw blood with my right hand. There are few lab normals for most of Frank’s animals, and we routinely ran blood samples through the lab every time we captured one.

I cut a 4-foot length of OB wire to use to saw the antlers off. Antlers have no blood supply after the velvet is gone. This makes the procedure much easier than dehorning a cow. I cover the eyes, not because he is seeing anything but to protect them from dust from the saw.

I attach saw handles to the wire and seat the wire saw at the base of the antler. Starting with slow, long strokes, to ensure the proper placement of the cut, I begin the removal. Dust flies, and the typical odor of burnt bone rises from the base of the antler. I increase the speed of the saw as smoke rises from the cut. The base of these antlers are nearly 2 inches in diameter and are solid bone. It doesn’t take long, and both antlers are on the ground. The wire saw is white-hot and curled from the heat.

The antler is an interesting structure in nature. In elk, they start to grow, nourished by the velvet that covers them, shortly following the time they are shed. They grow rapidly, you would think that you could almost see them grow if you could corral a bull long enough. They are solid bone. Can you imagine the benefit to mankind if we could understand and harness the process of that much bone growth in that short of time? Applying that process to fracture healing would be a game-changer.

We position the bull elk on his sternum and put more ointment into his eyes. He is already starting to come around. 

Frank and I chat a bit as I put things away in the truck. His biggest concern is the potential loss of Sernalyn.

“It is probably not a potential loss, I hear it going to be discontinued,” I say. “Ketamine has become a popular street drug. There are multiple names for it on the street, Special K is probably the name you hear the most. Sernalyn is 20 times more powerful than Ketamine, it apparently has tremendous value on the street.”

“What are our options?” Frank asks.

“Rompun is always there,” I say. “It is not the best, but we will always have it. Using a combination of Rompun and Ketamine might work on these elk pretty good.”

“What about the drugs you see on the wildlife shows?” Frank asks.

“M-99 is what is used most of the time on those shows,” I say. “It is currently a Class I drug and not available for practitioners. It is costly. I don’t know what that means but expensive. And in reading, it is not as good as it looks on TV. Those shows have the advantage that they can edit the disasters out of the show.”

It doesn’t take long, and the bull is up. He is a little confused initially, but it only takes a few minutes for him to be back to normal. He heads up the hill to the cows, and I head back to the clinic.