Surely there had to be an alternative solution, though? I remembered a discussion at vet school on the use of remote injection pole sticks as a safe way to inject an animal through a cage or at a distance to avoid being kicked. We didn’t have one, but surely I could improvise something? My mind ticked over. How to inject something at a distance? Simply speaking, all that would be needed was a needle connected to one end of a long pipe, with a syringe at the other end. Problem one: how to reinforce the pipe and needle so that I could control where I injected it? Problem two: I needed a pipe to which I could securely connect a needle and a syringe to either end. Problem three: how to control the amount of drug I injected at a distance?
The solution to all three problems came in a flash of inspiration. The practice had an attic space, and it suddenly struck me that the long metal stick used to open the hatch would make a perfect pole. A drip-line extension tube had the right connections for a needle at one end and a syringe at the other, so if I taped the tubing to the pole, with the needle just protruding from the end, it should give me good enough control to safely inject the wolf. I would also be able to draw up the drug through the needle into the pipe and then into the syringe that way. If I calculated how much fluid the tubing could contain, I would be able to compare this to the required drug dose and top any excess space in the tubing with saline. Confident it would work, and feeling rather proud of myself, I rapidly set about constructing my crude injection pole.
Trialling it with some saline, it worked exactly as I had hoped: we now had a method of remotely injecting the wolf. Of course, we would still need to be able to get within a metre of him, but armed with this tool, we would stand a better chance of injecting him through the cage. Even so, I still needed to contact the person in Somerset to see if they could help in case we required it, but with a renewed confidence I set about loading my car with the equipment: the portable anaesthetic machine, surgical kits, fluid bags, drapes, suture material, drugs, and my patient injection pole. I found the telephone number for the capture specialist Eric Jefferies and set off, deciding to call him on the way.
‘Mr Jefferies? My name is Jonathan Cranston, I’m a veterinary surgeon from North Devon. We have a situation with a wolf that we may need assistance darting. It’s not confirmed yet, but I just wanted to check on your availability to help us with it today.’
‘Hmm, sounds an interesting one. I could certainly do it. North Devon, you say?’ He paused for a moment, presumably looking at his watch. ‘It’s ten now, I’m going to be tied up till twelve, so it would have to be between half past one and two before I could get to you, I’m afraid.’
Just as I feared, if we couldn’t anaesthetize the wolf any other way, then we would have no choice, but if we had to wait four hours before we even started, it would turn into an all-day job. And besides, could the wolf wait that long?
‘OK, thanks so much, that’s really good to know. Could you provisionally pencil that in? I’m just on my way to the zoo now, so once I’ve assessed the situation, I’ll have a better idea and will update you then. Is that OK?’
‘Sure, no problem either way. I’m here if you need me, Jonathan. And please call me Eric.’
‘Really appreciate it, Eric. I’ll be in touch soon. Many thanks.’
Twenty minutes later I arrived at the zoo. A very concerned senior keeper greeted me. I had met James a few times before, but he was far from his usual relaxed and jovial self.
‘Thanks for coming at such short notice, Jon. He had a similar problem a while ago – Simon saw him – but he was still able to urinate then, his bladder wasn’t completely blocked. This seems much worse. Chris doesn’t think he’s passed anything for twenty-four hours and he’s clearly uncomfortable.’
Chris was the keeper responsible for the wolves.
‘If that’s the case we may need to operate,’ I said. ‘Dave should be here in about half an hour, but we wanted to get out as soon as we could to assess the situation and come up with a plan of action. You know we don’t have our dart gun anymore?’
‘Yeah, Simon had mentioned it, and suggested we got our own. We’re looking into it, but haven’t got one yet. And I’m afraid Marty is the most aggressive of our three maned wolves. What are you thinking?’
‘The timing couldn’t be any worse,’ I said, ‘but it is what it is. Anyway, I’ve teed up a chap in Somerset who has a dart gun – he’s the closest, but he wouldn’t be able to get here till two, so if there’s another way of anaesthetizing him, it’d be preferable. Look, I’ve made a crude injection pole so if we could get him close enough to the fence line then we could maybe inject him through it – or would we have access to him through the enclosure? Worst-case scenario, we could put something in his food, but that’s a bit hit-and-miss and takes longer.’
‘Yeah … frustrating about the dart gun. Have a look at Marty for yourself, but I’d personally be worried waiting four hours. I reckon you should be able to inject him from inside the house. Let’s go and have a look. It’ll give you a better idea of the set-up.’
I followed James through the staff entrance into the zoo, down a gravel path, past the back of the black panther enclosure, before arriving at the door of a red brick building. This was the wolves’ indoor housing, a set of three 8-foot by 8-foot enclosures with a narrow alleyway running behind them. We skirted round the house to get to their large outdoor pen, and it was there I got my first sight of a maned wolf. Dave’s description closely matched the three animals before me. Their head and ears were those of a fox, and their coat shared that same rustic red colour. But their frame was much, much bigger. As I remarked to James, it almost looked as if a fox were standing on a set of black stilts, so disproportionate were their legs and body to the size of their head, though they were still possessed of an extraordinary elegance and grace.
‘Yeah, they’re beautiful, all right, and very popular with the public,’ he replied. ‘Probably because not many people have heard of them. Marty is that one over there.’
He need scarcely have pointed him out, since it was obvious that the animal we were watching was clearly in distress, restlessly pacing up and down the far fence line, stopping occasionally in a vain attempt to void his bladder.
‘Yeah, he’s definitely struggling. Even if we don’t need to operate, we certainly need to have a good look at him and see if we can catheterize him,’ I confirmed.
‘OK. I think the best option is to get him into his house. If you dart him outside and he goes down, we’d need to separate him from the others, so best to get them all inside first.’
‘Agreed. Is that easy to do?’
‘Yeah, they’re trained to go into their housing quarters. We’ll open up all three doors and see which ones they go into. If Marty goes in first, then great, we can close the door directly behind him. Otherwise we’ll shut them all in and separate them off once they’re shut inside. All three cages are connected.’
He pulled out the two-way radio clipped to his belt.
‘Chris? The vet’s here. Can you get over to Marty’s enclosure?’
‘Be right with you,’ a voice crackled back.