‘What’s it like putting your arm up a cow’s bottom?’ Joe Brook asked.
‘Warm and squelchy.’ Binti, his mother, grinned.
‘You wouldn’t catch me doing it.’ Joe pulled a face.
He was standing on the bottom rung of some metal fencing inside a barn on Mike Downs’s farm. His mother was the other side of the fence, dressed in her green overalls and wellington boots, her breath coiling upwards like steam from a kettle as she leant against the cow’s rear. Joe watched as she pulled her arm out and removed the long plastic glove that covered most of it.
‘It’s not much fun for the cow, either,’ she said.
‘If I was going to be a vet, I’d only want to look after small animals like cats – or wild animals like elephants, because that would be cool.’
‘So you think some of what I do is cool then, Joe?’
Binti smiled as she opened the gate and left the cow’s enclosure. Most of her work was as an international wildlife vet, but when she was at home she sometimes helped out if called upon by other vets in the area.
‘You might have to put your arm up an elephant’s bottom too, you know,’ she said.
‘What for?’
‘To find out if a female is pregnant, or perhaps to check for digestive problems. Pretty much the same as for a cow.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind so much if it was an elephant, because they’re exciting and I’m half Tanzanian. Cows are boring.’
‘Not to a bull they’re not.’ Binti laughed as she scrubbed her hands. ‘Come on, it’s dinner time.’
‘I’m glad Dad does the cooking, knowing where your hands have just been.’ Joe smirked.
His mother cuffed him gently.
Joe shivered as they left the barn. It had become dark and very chilly. They headed back towards the farmhouse, where Mike Downs greeted them on the doorstep. Through a window Joe could see a fire burning brightly and wished he were sitting in front of it.
‘I can’t find anything abnormal, Mike,’ said Binti, ‘but I’ll send a stool sample off to the lab and see if they come up with anything. In the meantime, just keep an eye on her and give me a call if you’re at all worried.’
‘Thanks, Binti. I’ll try not to disturb your weekend any further.’
‘It’s all part of the job, Mike. We can’t expect animals to fall sick only on weekdays.’
‘Are you going to follow in your mum’s footsteps when you’re older, young man?’ The farmer winked at Joe.
‘My son doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, do you, Joe?’ Binti smiled. ‘Right, we ought to make a move. Bye, Mike.’
She linked her arm through Joe’s. They walked quickly over to their four-by-four and clambered in.
‘Turn the heating up, Mum,’ said Joe. ‘It’s got really cold.’
Binti switched on the engine and played with the dials. ‘You’ll have to get used to the cold where we’re going,’ she said, shooting him a glance to watch his reaction.
Joe looked puzzled. ‘We’re going home for dinner, aren’t we?’
‘But what about when you break up for half-term?’ Binti questioned.
Joe detected a whiff of excitement. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘We’re going to Antarctica!’
‘Not quite,’ said Binti. ‘But we are going to Russia.’
‘Russia?’ Joe wasn’t sure how to react. ‘Why are we going to Russia?’
‘I’m going to help train some of the young vets over there in how to anaesthetize tigers.’
‘But there aren’t any tigers in Russia, are there?’ said Joe. ‘I thought they were all in India and Sumatra.’
‘There are Amur tigers in Russia. They’re the biggest, and there are very few left.’
Russia had sounded like a boring place to spend half-term – until Binti mentioned tigers. Now Joe couldn’t think of anything better, even if it was going to be cold . . .