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CLOSE CONNECTIONS

Pediatricians who work with infants and vets who work with wild animals share a major challenge: their patients can't speak. Each must rely on someone else to tell them what's wrong. The physician asks the child's parent several all-important questions: When did this start? What are the symptoms? Is the patient better or worse today? Domestic animal vets ask the same questions of the pet owner or farmer. But zoo vets must seek out this information from a variety of keepers, animal caretakers, curators, managers, and scientists, and it may often be sketchy or incomplete.

After gathering bits and pieces of history, our next step is to observe the animal. Unfortunately, most of our patients either run away or threaten resistance when they see the vet coming. Hooved animals, birds, and reptiles will flee if they can; tigers, bears, Komodo dragons, and other predators may show aggression. We can easily pick up tiny animals like frogs and jellyfish, but handling them has been shown to cause them stress. So our first exam is a visual one, performed from a safe distance, often with a good set of binoculars.

It's at this point that we develop an initial bond with the patient. The wild animal begins to tolerate our presence. In cases where the injury or illness is mild, that may be the extent of our interaction. But if we need more information, the relationship intensifies. In order to treat untamed animals, zoo vets must find ways to connect with their patients—without being bitten, scratched, kicked, or poisoned.

Some wild animals can be conditioned to the presence, and even the touch, of a doctor. In exchange for a food treat, zoo rhinos will stand quietly in a stall for ultrasound examination. Free-living mountain gorillas will allow vets to approach within a few feet to observe a wound. But with most wild animal patients, the only way to gather the necessary health data is to capture and anesthetize them for a complete exam.

Now our connection to the animal becomes much more tangible. A hands-on exam offers an invaluable opportunity to examine an individual thoroughly. It may even serve as our first introduction to a species. In the backs of our minds, we're curious about, even in awe of, our patients. So we work in teams of vets and technicians in order to learn as much as possible in a short amount of time. While we focus on the health problem at hand, we also document the normal anatomy and take samples to establish baseline physiological data.

If the animal is chronically ill, requiring repeat exams, the relationship between doctor and patient becomes more dynamic. Tolerance develops into familiarity, mutual respect, even companionship. This is particularly true with highly intelligent and long-lived species like great apes, elephants, dolphins, whales, tortoises, parrots, and raptors. And always there is the bond of responsibility: each veterinarian takes a professional oath to help animals in need.

Emotions can also fuel and shape these bonds. We feel anxiety about the best course of treatment, relief when the patient recovers, sadness if it dies. For difficult and unusual cases, we rack our brains, pore through textbooks and journals, and call our colleagues for advice. After four hours of surgery on a polar bear or a nightlong vigil with a kangaroo in intensive care, we worry about the outcome. We put all of our veterinary skills on the line.

If the patient recovers, we're happy for the animal, professionally satisfied, and personally relieved. More often than not, however, the animal feels the exact opposite about us. Every zoo vet has a story about a former patient that thanks its doctor by hissing or spitting, throwing excrement, or roaring and charging.

Inevitably, there are cases where we fail. The diagnosis may elude us, the injury may be too severe, or advanced medical therapy may not be practical or possible for a wild animal. In such situations, our job is to alleviate suffering, which sometimes includes euthanasia. Our relationship with the animal helps us make such decisions with compassion, empathy, and concern for the animal's quality of life.

In the stories that follow, doctor and patient form especially close connections. Each bond is unique, and some are closer and more emotional than others. The patients include an eel, a chimpanzee, a fawn, a bear cub, and a whale calf.

Lucy H. Spelman, DVM