Unusual encounters make up more than routine farm calls

by Brent Kelley, D.V.M.

TODAY we continue with some interesting cases seen by my stepdaughter in her early days in practice. We will call her "Liz" once again, although she told me that everybody actually knows who "Liz" really is.

Merry Christmas

The kids are all home on Christmas, and that alone makes it a good day. On Christmas morning last year, we had gotten up, opened the stocking gifts, and were preparing to have breakfast when the phone rang. It was not an unusual occurrence because when I was in practice, the phone always rang on Christmas morning. The horses knew it was supposed to be a day off, and they could not stand it.

Being retired, I was a little surprised. But it was not for me; it was for Liz. The call was from some friends with horses who lived a few miles away. They were concerned about a horse on another farm.

It seems this horse appeared to be stuck; it had not moved for three days. It was standing and would pivot on one hind leg, but did not leave its spot.

Our friends had done a little investigating into the situation. The owner was gone, and no one knew where he was. A horse trader who dealt only in cash or goods, he had had disputes and differences with others, and rumor had it that he and several cement blocks had taken up residence in the bottom of a pond on the farm.

A neighbor on an adjacent farm had seen the horse's plight, and she was giving him hay and water. The owner's grown children moved in and threatened to shoot her if she continued. She fed him anyway.

Stuck in the mud

Liz and her mother (my wife) went to see the horse. She found a young Rocky Mountain colt, maybe three years old, stuck in the mud up to his ankle. The patella on the stuck leg appeared to be luxated. In the field was another colt, as well as several mares. It was assumed that the stuck colt's problem resulted from a disagreement between the two colts.

Also on the farm were maybe 30 horses in all, plus 20 or 30 dogs of various descriptions, a mule, and a cow.

Liz called the police, and the next day they came out, along with some people from animal control. The dogs were taken and placed in foster care.

The stuck horse was extricated and trailered to our friends' farm a little down the road, where Liz radiographed the patellar region. The patella was shattered, and he had to be euthanized.

The owner's kids had left, and a count of the horses was made. There were 27, three of which were in the barn with no feed or water. At least the ones outside had poor grazing and access to ponds and a stream. The county road crew was assigned the task of taking hay to all of them and being sure they had water.

The owner's children reappeared. Under the misguided belief that the horses were valuable, they did not want them to leave the farm, but an attorney had been contacted and the steps were taken for them to be removed and cared for.

Capture

On a cold, rainy Saturday morning a few weeks later, Liz was called upon to head up the capture of the animals. Animal control was there, as well as about two dozen local people needed to help catch them. I was among the locals, but most of us were essentially useless. One notable exception was Liz's husband, a young man who had nearly no experience with horses prior to their marriage. He proved invaluable.

These horses had not been overly handled. The ones in the field where the stuck horse had been were chased into the barn and put in stalls, but that left nearly 20 others in a very large field. They were not approachable, but we tried for about an hour. They ran a lot, and no one got within 100 feet of them.

Finally they were herded (chased) into a narrow fenced area along the small creek that ran across the farm where they eventually were caught one at a time by being trapped at one end of the area.

The mule was not catchable. My main contribution to the day was to pet him across the fence, but whenever someone entered his field, he took off. Eventually a funnel of people was made and he was chased down this funnel into the barn, then chased into a stall.

There was a happy ending for most of the animals. One aged Thoroughbred stallion was euthanized and an old mare with severe lymphangitis was, too, but all the others, including the mule, went to foster homes, where they are doing well. Our friends who began this with the call on Christmas morning took the cow, an interesting cross between a Jersey and a Brahma.

Abortion

In the last breeding season, Liz was called to a farm that was actually another veterinarian's client. She was directed by the farm veterinarian to treat a mare for placentitis, both systemically and intrauterinely.

The mare had come out of a November auction, and one morning she was found to have a bloody vaginal discharge and her suture line had been torn out, but the fetus and placenta could not be found.

Liz examined her and found that the cervix was slightly open. She noticed that the floor of the vagina was slightly elevated. She palpated her, and her hand was kicked. There was a fetus in there.

The mare was placed on antibiotics and taken to the clinic for a few days. She was due in six weeks, but four weeks later she foaled a normal, albeit small, chestnut filly.

She had told the farm personnel to keep the placenta for her to examine, but they forgot, so they had to drag it out of the trash bin. Upon examination, it was seen that the mare had had twins and one of them was dumped early.

This reminded me of a situation I encountered way back when I, too, was fresh out of school. A client called and said there was an abortion; the fetus was lying at the gate when the mares were fed that morning.

There were six mares in the field, and none of them showed any signs of having aborted--no discharge, no blood, no tearing. So I palpated all six. All were pregnant. And all eventually foaled normally, but one of them had had twins.

Pepper

Liz met Pepper while doing the veterinary work on a farm full of old horses. Pepper was one of the oldest, in his late 20s. He was a Thoroughbred-Appaloosa cross and must have been a beauty in his day. He was tall and well-built and correct, but now he had arthritis everywhere.

To prevent him from just standing around and allowing his arthritis to take over, he was ridden twice a week by a six-year-old girl. It goes without saying, he was gentle.

One hot day in the summer, Liz was called to the farm. A horse was down and would not, or could not, get up. When she got there, she found the horse surrounded by several small girls. It was Pepper. He was not struggling, and there were no marks on him; he was just down.

With the help of the farm crew, Liz tried to get the old boy to stand. She pushed, pulled, poked, slapped, and kicked--all to no avail. He just lay there.

While the farm manager went to call Pepper's owner, Liz asked one of the young girls to go to her car and get a container of fly spray. It was hot, and the flies were all over the old horse. At least he could be comfortable while his fate was being determined.

On the second squirt of the spray, Pepper rolled up on his chest and stood.

The old boy only lasted another six months, and they were rough months for him. He had an abscess in a hind foot and the other foot came up with laminitis. He hated stalls, so he had to be kept outside. He was in a paddock with a run-in shed, but he would never go in the shed. One morning he was found with a broken shoulder and that was the end.

Brent Kelley, D.V.M., is a retired veterinarian living in Paris, Kentucky.