Eau de Force

I've written about some of the joys of rural living, peaceful morning walks on less traveled roads and abundant wildlife among them.There is, however, a downside to the country lifestyle . And that would be the abundant wildlife that decides to take up residence.

The barn swallows swooping around at dusk are aeronautic wonders. Nonetheless they can be a bit messy and the little ones sometimes fledge a day or two early and need rescuing from the ostensibly prescription-food-only resident barn cats. And the spring peepers and crickets are often so loud it's difficult to sleep with the windows open.

Racoons in the barn are a feng shui disaster. Anything loose will be strewn about. Anything  not loose will be similarly strewn about but only after a thorough pawing and gnawing.

(Courtesy of sterlingwildlife.com)

Oppossums are singularly unattractive in an abundantly-fanged, prehistoric sort of way. I've managed to avoid close contact with a live specimen but the fact that barn cats back away, even from days-old wiggly youngsters, suggests a significant personal hygiene issue even if they haven't been flat on the road for three days.



However, the critter least appreciated in the immediate vicinity is the skunk. This has been a breaking news event at my house for about three weeks, which is how long we've been gingerly approaching our mailbox across the street. They were kinda cute the first time we saw them, mom with three black and white bundles of fluff toddling after her. That was when we thought they were just passing through. Our assessment of cute changed as it became apparent they intended to be permanent residents. Our lack of enthusiasm for the odiferous occupants dwindled even further when they began regular visits into the yard. Now they're circumnavigating the entire house and we are seriously not pleased.

So, 'What to do? What to do?' we wondered.
Repelling them with scent came to mind but given the odor of magnitude with which they live that seemed unlikely to succeed and potentially disasterous for other resident mammals, like us. Did I really want to endure the odor of something so bad that skunks fled?

A client offered the information that skunks don't like moth balls. This would have been a viable option but for the illegality and moral dilemma of spreading toxic chemicals around the yard.

We are a dedicated gun-free zone so that left trapping and relocation or direct intimidation as options. In the interests of barn peace and horse health, we've trapped and "re-homed" an assortment of critters to the other side of the river. However, the logistics of trapping and transporting four skunks seemed daunting, and there may be a small but significant DNR-type legal issue there too.

Direct intimidation it was to be.

Here I should note that my dismay at resident skunks and somewhat academic interest in encouraging their departure is vastly superceded by my husband's distress and dedication to establishing an extensive skunk free zone.

The not-so-little-anymore skunks had taken to investigating the lawn for grub snacks at all hours of the day and night. Somewhat fortified by the belief that immature skunks are not fully armed in the scent department he approached and shouted something in English, his native language I should note, while waving his arms in a firmly suggestive shooing motion. This resulted in the skunk lifting his nose and tail from the ground and peering up at him. Neither of them apparently perceived a significant threat because the skunk went back to nosing the ground and my husband, obviously emboldened by the immediate lack of spraying, closed in a bit.

Raising his hands over his head like a Hollywood zombie and frantically hopping from side to side he began a high-volume, decidedly non-English, somewhat crazed growl no doubt meant to scare the skunk but simultaneously sending my daughter and me into paroxyms of laughter. (Ever equipped with her trusty smart phone and needing virtually no encouragement from me to hurry before he stopped, she has the scene on video for posterity and future bargaining power. I may see a car in her future...) We were further amused from the safety of the house when, in true contrary adolescent fashion, the juvenile skunk once again looked up at the peculiarly berzerk human, near-sightedly squinted, and ambled closer for a better look.

Skunk two, human zero.

We did offer unofficial points for entertainment value but clearly the minimal degree of difficulty was costing the home team.


Feeling a bit sorry for his lack of success and apparent dejection and really relieved that he hadn't returned to the house smelling of skunk I offered the thought that I'd considered spraying them with the garden hose. He was a man rejuvenated, which is why he spent several days and nights this week armed with about 150 feet of hose chasing the skunk family around the yard and back across the street. I'm not sure our version of homeland security is any match for a skunk's version of biological warfare but fortunately they don't seem inclined to spray at intermittant but doggedly horizontal "rain."

His efforts so far, while mildly reminiscent of Caddyshack, haven't yet reached single-minded-anihilation intensity. I'm hoping they decide to relocate on their own, particularly in view of the fact that a recent check revealed baby skunk scent glands mature at about four weeks of age and they have an approximate range of 15 feet, which is more than the distance from driveway to front door...

Jackie Be Nimble--A Jack Russell Terrier Story

An old adage talks about cats having nine lives, and many of them do indeed survive and heal from amazing wounds and mishaps. And then there's Jackie.

Jackie was actually a Jack Russell Terrorist of some renown. Though small of stature, like most members of the breed she fancied herself considerably larger and fiercer than her 14 pounds would seem to  prudently indicate. As a group, JRTs are high energy, perpetual motion and almost too smart. If veterinary medicine had an attention deficit/hyperactivity diagnosis the Jack Russell would be the poster dog.

Many a dog-savvy owner has been slow to realize until too late that the adorable 12 week old bundle of terrier scruff is now a dictator of Stalinist proportions entirely in charge and running the household routine.

Unfortunately, Jackie's owners were all that and also a poor match for her Houdini tactics. Additionally, she had a nose for trouble which often led her far afield.


One of her initial visits to see me occurred when she returned home after a two day absence. She'd been found in her yard with assorted minor lacerations and muzzle swelling and completely caked with dirt. Her eyes were so full of gritty sand that initially the eye itself wasn't even visible. Her ears and nostrils were similarly packed and she was dehydrated.

(Courtesy of cafepress.com)

A correct diagnosis almost always depends on a good history and veterinary patients are notoriously non-verbal so as I started to clean and treat her I asked questions about where she'd been found, the house, and the neighborhood. I was well into double digit flushings of her eyes with saline when I asked about remodeling and said she looked like she'd been buried alive.

Her owners suddenly remembered a delivery of construction sand and gravel to a building site across the street...two days ago. It seemed Jackie had embarked on another excursion and been caught under a dump truck load of sand and it had likely taken the poor thing the entire two days to dig her way out!


But wait, there's more!

Jackie came in again a couple of years later, (we tended to only see her for 'real' problems), with multiple bite wounds on her face. And again a few weeks later for the same thing. And again a couple of months after that when she returned home after a 7 day absence with multiple rear limb injuries and pelvic weakness. It was that last set of injuries, perhaps due to another go 'round with a much bigger dog or possibly a several ton vehicle that finally slowed her down. With careful nursing and patience, she did regain use of her rear legs but remained a little impaired and presumably was slow enough for her owners to catch as she attempted to dart out the door. Her remaining visits were few, she was spayed a bit late at the age of 8 and after that we saw her for an occasional vaccine.

Despite her intermittant visits and true to form for most JRTs, Jackie made an impression. (Even if it was sand art...)

Barn Lions

There are many benefits to living in rural areas. Green spaces aren't just 1 or 2 acre parks encircled by concrete and traffic but entire fields of cultivated crops edged by wildflowers, or deer and bunny trails through miles of woods to the river. A rolling field of sheep on my road is thoroughly guarded by a stern looking llama who seems to take their oversight very seriously. The sheep graze, seemingly oblivious, (a not uncommon state of mind for sheep), and undisturbed by passers-by. Not so their pasture mate who carefully inspects each person or vehicle for possible ill-intent. Grazing cattle and horses dot the hills near their barns. Which brings me to...barn cats.

(Courtesy of mybarncats.com)

Barn cats, or as Joy DeLisle calls them, Barn Lions, are a special if not entirely separate breed of feline. They are those who inhabit barns and outbuildings the world over, perhaps feral and fending entirely for themselves or as tame and pampered as any lap-occupying Persian and counting on a person for their daily ration. What they have in common of course are their barns and outdoor lifestyle.

Please note I'm an advocate of all cats being housed indoors. I think it's safer all around and a better way for cats to be had but it's simply not the reality of rural life. Barns acquire cats the way toddlers acquire sticky and middle schoolers acquire drama, which is to say it's inevitable.

What does remain in doubt is the level of care barn cats receive, and that's where Joy DeLisle and similar advocates of cat health step in to fill a barn-sized need. Joy owns horses and thus had a barn which had its share of cats. Over time, she won their trust and began photographing them in various poses and seasons. Eventually, she was able to handle them and have them neutered to help control the burgeoning population.

But she didn't stop there. Combining her creativity, photography skills and compassion for her furry barn mates she started offering note cards and prints for sale. Proceeds as well as donations go into a special Barn Lions account which is used to neuter and place feral cats and kittens in the community.

Working with other local groups and volunteers, (Kat Snips and Cascades' Forgotten Feline Program), Joy was able to gather, neuter, and place 26 assorted cats and kittens in the last year.


"Do What You Can, With What You Have, Where You Are. "– Teddy Roosevelt


For additional examples of Barn Lions note cards, please visit
 http://www.etsy.com/shop/joysbarnlions or to sign up for her newsletter or any inquiries please contact Joy DeLisle at  barnlions@hughes.net or 517-937-8208.

Help prevent littering, send a Barn Lion instead of a Hallmark.

Take Your Dog To Work Day 2012

 The 14th annual Pet Sitters International Take Your Dog To Work Day is Friday, June 22nd.

(Courtesy of pawmetto.com)

Started in 1999 as a fun way to promote the bond between dogs and their humans and encourage dog adoption from shelters and rescue groups, the event website, http://www.takeyourdog.com/index.php,  had over 100,000 visitors during last year's promotion.

The annual event, scheduled for the first Friday after Father's Day, is designed to encourage employers to open their doors to the joys of pets in the work place.

 (Courtesy of celiasue.com)

Actually, there's a handy downloadable action pack to make planning a successful day at work with your dog a walk in the park. It's important that your dog have office manners and an indoor voice before going to work.

Don't confuse dogs at work with working dogs...
(Courtesy of telegraph.co.uk)

Additionally, the hope is that employees without pets will notice their co-workers' bond with their dogs and decide to adopt an orphaned pet of their own.

Local Pet Adoption Resources

http://www.sheltertohome.com/
266 Oak St. Wyandotte, MI
734-556-3135

http://www.adoptapet.com/adoption_rescue/74407.html
Southgate Animal Shelter 14719 Schafer Ct. Southgate, MI
 734-246-1328

http://www.waganimalrescue.com/
P.O. Box 222 Wyandotte, MI

http://www.oakgov.com/petadoption/about/
Oakland Pet Adoption Center
1700 Brown Road Auburn Hills, MI

http://www.petfinder.com/index.html

Please Don't Cook Your Dog

Summer brings plenty of opportunities for fun but a dog, (or child!), in a car on a hot day is a recipe for disaster. 

(Courtesy of metafilter)

Consider the chart below which illustrates how quickly the interior of a car can heat up.

Even on a relatively mild 70 degree day, the temperature inside a car reaches 89 degrees in just ten minutes.

Tissue and organ injury begin at an internal body temperature of only 104 degrees. In the 85 degree temperatures we've had this month, that's the temperature inside the car 10 minutes after you've locked it and run into the store for a quick errand. Why take a chance you choose the "wrong" check out lane with the new cashier and a customer in front of you with unpriced items and 28 coupons?

And if you think cracking the windows makes a difference, think again. Related tests with single and multiple windows left open to varying degrees revealed little difference in the speed of the temperature rise or the ultimate temperature reached.

If you love them, leave them home or take them in with you.



Estimated Vehicle Interior Air Temperature v. Elapsed Time

Elapsed time	Outside Air Temperature (F)
	70	75	80	85	90	95
0 minutes	70	75	80	85	90	95
10 minutes	89	94	99	104	109	114
20 minutes	99	104	109	114	119	124
30 minutes	104	109	114	119	124	129
40 minutes	108	113	118	123	128	133
50 minutes	111	116	121	126	131	136
60 minutes	113	118	123	128	133	138
> 1 hour	115	120	125	130	135	140

Courtesy Jan Null, CCM; Department of Geosciences, San Francisco State University

Adopt A Shelter Cat Month

June is National Adopt-A-Shelter-Cat Month.

Options abound:

For your pet-owning convenience, the Michigan Humane Society offers Certified Pre-Owned Cats with competitive pricing and multiple financing options. (The site is worth visiting just for the humor.)

A recent search on Petfinder, which many Downriver community animal shelters use to list animals available for adoption, listed 4,439 cats available within 100 miles. Chances are there's a cat or two for you, all within easy walking distance.

Not convinced you need a cat even if a cat needs you?
Consider the following:

It's summer and maybe you're tired of the the same old routine entertainment options. Even the good, (and I use the term loosely), television shows are in reruns. By the time you add in $8 hot dogs and $12 pop corn, movie, concert and sporting event ticket prices make a weekly outing pretty pricey. And you could be stuck with obnoxious co-watchers tweeting, spilling and kicking the back of your seat for just a few fleeting hours of  distraction. Compare that to years of lasting entertainment value from a kitten or two! (Just type "funny cats" into a YouTube search for a preview.)

Actual health benefits experienced by pet owners include lower blood pressure, triglyceride and cholesterol levels and improved cardiovascular health.  Pets provide emotional support and actually increase social interactions with other people. In general, pet owners have higher self esteem, are more physically fit and are less likely to feel lonely than non-pet-owners.

Cat owners in particular have the optional pleasure of sharing their beds with furry, warm, vibrating objects, which is especially nice in the winter months.

Cats are excellent at telling time. Put them on a breakfast and dinner feeding schedule and you'll never be late for work or school again, at least not because you've overslept.

Joking aside, there are some practical considerations before cat adoption.

1. If you're thinking about adopting a cat, consider taking home two.
2. Choose a cat whose personality compliments yours.
3. Choose a veterinarian ahead of the adoption and schedule a visit within the first few days for a complete exam.
4. Prepare as a family to have a cat, this may mean some cat-proofing as well as including the new cat in the family emergency plan.
5. Stock up on supplies, (food, litter & litter pan, new memory card on the camera.)
6. Budget for the short- and long-term costs of owning and caring for your feline.
7. If you're considering giving the cat is a gift, be sure the recipient is ready and willing.

That last point is crucial. Gift pets probably shouldn't be surprises. I know of a case in which someone gave a friend a surprise pot-bellied piglet for her birthday. Fortunately the fact that the piglet grew into a 100 pound pig named Penelope Rose with an expected life span of 15-20 years who has become accustomed to occupying the spare bedroom year round hasn't damaged the friendship. How that's the case remains a mystery but may have something to do with Penelope's winning personality if not her considerable space occupying ability.

Hold Your Fire

Like Most Veterinary Students,
Doreen Breezes Through Chapter Nine.
(Courtesy of The Far Side)

Conventional wisdom holds that horses with broken legs don’t survive. However, veterinary medicine has advanced enough in the last 30 years that many equine fractures are in fact reparable. That’s the good news. The bad news is "reparable" doesn’t mean the horse will be able to return to full function and in many cases a decision to euthanize is made based on utility or for humane considerations. Unlike dogs, cats, and even people, horses really do need all their legs just for support. Even if a fracture can be stabilized, the remaining legs must bear additional weight during the healing process which puts the horse at risk for developing laminitis. Laminitis is the excruciatingly painful hoof condition that led to the loss of 2006 Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro after the Preakness.


Looking at Bea’s x-rays, (see previous post), my boss and I simultaneously gasped  and  winced. The pastern bone was unrecognizable, two joints were affected and there was no way she’d ever race again. I knew from the stricken look on his face he was already preparing himself to put her down and that my own expression confirmed the wisdom of that course of action.

Then I noticed something on the x-rays. Though shattered and displaced, the bone fragments were all relatively close together and none seemed to extend beyond the skin margins. I hadn’t seen her myself yet and asked if the fracture was compound, meaning skin was open and bone exposed. Given the degree of trauma needed to cause such a fracture, followed by a trailer ride, it should have been open, severely contaminated and on the way to a fatal sepsis.

He looked at me incredulously, probably wondering why it even mattered, and said he didn’t know. In my inexperienced opinion, it mattered. Bea was young and strong, lean but well-muscled in racing form, and perhaps most importantly, she was sensible. (Even an uncomplicated fracture would take 8-12 weeks to heal, that’s a long time for anything, much less a young horse to spend in a 12 x 12 box without going bonkers. In veterinary medicine temperament can be a matter of life or death.)  What if the fracture were closed and we could stabilize it? Her breeding was good, and she had heart. Even if she didn’t have a racing career, perhaps she’d make a good broodmare?

Another incredulous look, a glimmer of hope and we were on our way to the farm loaded with enough casting supplies and anesthetic for, well, a horse.  It was in fact a closed fracture, but there was still the problem of protecting the injury as well as the other legs. A simple cast wasn’t going to be enough, we had to get the weight completely off her lower leg. I had an idea and it just so happened that her trainer had welding skills and my boss’s brother-in-law worked with concrete. Using hastily “borrowed” rebar I had her trainer fashion a modified U-shaped support. I placed the cast on her lower leg, immobilizing the joints above and below the fracture as required. Then I continued the fiberglass cast up her leg, incorporating the rebar and effectively transferring the weight bearing higher up the leg which allowed her to stand on the rebar with the injured lower leg suspended above it.

It wasn’t easy. Bea needed to be under general anesthesia to place the cast, and then safely recovered. We did this three times for cast changes.  She lost weight, she fretted about the confinement, she had some rub sores under the cast. But she was the filly that lived.

(Courtesy of icanhascheezburger)

She was bred the following spring and a year later gave birth to a race horse. And another after that, and another after that. All told, Bea was an excellent mom to 10 foals, each of whom went on to a racing career.  (One had almost $200,000 in winnings.) That leg was never “pretty” but she seemed sound enough to enjoy trotting around her pasture in between accepting treats over the fence. And I’m still a fan of improvising with whatever’s at hand.  

And They're Off!

This weekend the third and longest leg of Thoroughbred racing's triple crown, the Belmont Stakes, will run. Most spectators will watch with interest, excitement and maybe a little awe at the powerful, fluid beauty of a colt in full gallop. But some, those who've seen the accidents and tended to the injuries of a race horse, will hold their breaths with a little fear and hope rather than pure anticipation of a spectacular finish. We're hoping they all do in fact finish.

According to statistics from the Equine Injury Database for U.S and Canadian tracks which included information for 90% of flat racing days in North America, fatalinjury rates for Thoroughbred race starts between 2008 and 2010 declined to 2 deaths per 1000 starts. In actual numbers for those 2 years, 1510 horses suffered an injury so severe during a race that they were euthanized. Those numbers don't include horses injured in training.



(Courtesy of isiutm.org)

And they don't yet include statistics on Standardbreds, the trotting and pacing harness race horses with whom I am more familiar. Standardbreds are a physically sturdier breed than their flat racing cousins and often race into their teens. Although they have their share of injuries, often complicated by the equipment they wear and the "race bikes" they pull, my impression is that fatal injuries are a bit less common than in the Thoroughbred world.


However, accidents do happen and I know of at least one Standardbred filly who survived a career but not life-ending injury because I was too newly minted as a vet to accept general wisdom and her owner, who happened to be my boss, was willing to take a big chance on saving her.

Michigan has a Sire Stakes program, a collection of high-purse races especially for young horses sired by Michigan stallions and designed to support the state's equine industry. Purse money for the Stakes and Futurity races comes from the Agriculture Equine Fund, which is mainly derived from a charge on live and simulcast wagers. In many respects, it's an example of an industry supporting and nurturing itself, as wagers on older race horses support purse money for the youngest and those who bred and raised them.

Unfortunately the program has been repeatedly gutted by political maneuvering. For example, legislators began a recent Agriculture and Equine Industry Fund Rules, (MCL 432.320, section 20), with the statement,

"(1) It is the policy of this state to encourage the breeding of horses of all breeds in this state and the ownership of such horses...to promote the positive growth and development of high quality horse racing and other equine competitions in this state as a business and entertainment activity...to establish and preserve the substantial agricultural and commercial benefits of the horse racing and breeding industry to the state of Michigan. It is the intent of the legislature to...adequately fund the agriculture and equine industry programs established by this section."

Sounds good, the details followed, then the conclusion:

"(17) Two million dollars shall be transferred from the Michigan agriculture equine industry development fund to the general fund in the fiscal year ending September 30, 2006."

Two million dollars from the equine fund, poof, gone! No explanation or accounting offered.Small wonder the Michigan harness racing industry, which employs an estimated 12,000 people, is currently struggling for survival. With "encouragement" from Lansing like that and what many consider unfair tactics by casino interests, who needs a tough economy? However, Michigan harness racing once enjoyed greater support and better days and such was the case when Verona Bea Thor began her racing career.

Optimistically nominated by entry payments to the Sires Stakes program as a foal, Bea, her barn name, was a slender trotting filly of uncommon good sense. She spent a couple of summers growing up on pasture and learning her ground manners and entered training as a yearling. In part because of all the equipment they wear, harness horses are taught to be a great deal calmer than racing Thoroughbreds. No jumping and dancing and rearing allowed when they take to the starting gate. Though a little nervous at the newness of it all, Bea nonetheless loaded well and trailered to various race locations around the state, which is why she was several hours from home when the call came from her trainer.


Bea had gone down on the track and it looked bad. It wasn’t clear if veterinary care simply wasn’t available or if no one wanted to chance doing something wrong andmaking it worse. In the end, Bea’s injured leg was wrapped as well as possible and she toughed out a very long ride home before x-rays could be taken. Our worst fears were confirmed when the films were developed and revealed a shattered pastern bone. Comminuted is the medical term, in this case it meant the bone just below her fetlock, (the long pastern), was in over a dozen pieces.

A Coffin Bone
B Navicular Bone
C Short Pastern Bone
D Long Pastern Bone
E Sesamoid Bone
F Cannon Bone

(To be continued.)

Oh Deer!

It's spring in Michigan which means little critters are being born all over. And every so often, for a variety of reasons, they're orphaned. And that's how my family and I found ourselves bottle-feeding a fawn at 11:00 one night last week.

As a general rule I believe wildlife ought to be left in the wild. In particular, fawns that appear abandoned often aren't. White-tailed does in Michigan usually give birth sometime in May to copper-colored white-spotted fawns. Twins are common, especially with the abundant food and mild winters of late.

Very young fawns instinctively bed down after nursing and, unlike toddlers in shopping malls, stay where they're put. If you happen to find a fawn quiet and motionless on a walk in the woods, chances are he's fine and his mom is nearby. Most rehabilitators will tell you to take all the pictures you like, quickly, and then leave the fawn undisturbed. If conscience and curiosity insist, it's o.k. to check later.

If you do check later and the fawn is up wandering aimlessly and crying before you've touched him then you may have an orphan and contacting a licensed wildlife rehabilitator may be in order.

The fawn that sojourned at my house last week was crying and staggering weakly along a country road alone at night. I was on the way home from an equine emergency call as my husband and daughters were returning from a late track meet. I read the text about the rescue minutes before they pulled in the driveway with the little guy.

My initial reaction was mixed. It was late, I was tired and I had a Charlie Brown moment of, "Good Grief," one more thing to manage. However, this was soon followed by the grateful realization that we had raised compassionate daughters who recognized a fellow creature in need and acted as best they could. My youngest daughter said, "Mom, you know how people say, 'My heart melted?' Now I know what they're talking about." I thought, 'Me too.'

We decided to call the little guy Arthur because he seemed to be on a quest of his own. He was chilled and weak, with no suckle reflex. Healthy young mammals will almost always "nurse" on a finger tip gently placed in their mouths. The absence of that reflex suggests weakness and possibly hypoglycemia, (low blood sugar.) Fortunately I had some dextrose on hand and the means to give him a dose intravenously. Thanks to a friend and local rehabilitator, I also had access to powdered milk replacer, (regular cow's milk is not appropriate), and a bottle. It was a little work, but he did end up with a full belly before bed and was beginning to catch on to the bottle idea the next day before his transfer to Wildside Rehabilitation and Education Center in Eaton Rapids.

An offer of friendship from Minerva Jayne to Arthur
(Or did she just want her bed back?)

This morning, as I walked along my country road, I found the discarded primary feather of a red-tailed hawk. Unmarred by our recent rain or passing traffic, it seemed perfect. Twice I held it aloft in the strong breeze to see if it would catch the wind and sail across the adjacent field. Twice it quickly plunged to the pavement. It was a beautiful morning and I couldn't help waxing a bit philosophical. Good wind or no, that feather needed its mates to fly. A hand raised in thanks to a passing motorist or an unmet neighbor, a smile and a word of encouragement or truth along the way, we all need a little help in our quests to get where we're going.