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HOW DO YOU TREAT AN ANOREXIC TORTOISE? SLOWLY!
Bringing a reluctant tortoise out of his shell is just one of the heartwarming tales in this last extract from Yorkshire Vet Julian Norton’s new book...
Julian Norton’s adventures treating all creatures great and small at the practice where James Herriot author Alf Wight worked have been a hit in C5’s The Yorkshire Vet. In last week’s first extract from his new book, we revealed how an alpaca once gave This Morning host Phillip Schofield a nasty shock – now meet the tortoise who lost his appetite in today’s final extract...
There’s a line in one of the James Herriot stories that says, ‘If you decide to become a veterinary surgeon you will never grow rich, but you will have a life of endless interest and variety.’ And it is that endless interest and variety in the world of veterinary medicine that captivates not just those of us who work in it, but also those who love to read about it, or watch it on TV.
Not a day goes by without a new challenge – a complicated condition, an exotic animal, an owner with an unusual request. The interaction of a human with an animal is fascinating, and exposes a person’s true nature more than anything else. The veterinary surgeon is inextricably involved with these entwined emotions.
A veterinary life is so full of fascinating stories – both human and animal – it seems a shame not to write them down before they’re swallowed up by the passing of time. The characters in my books are ferrets and foals, cats and cows. But they’re every bit as magical as wizards, dragons and elves. And rural Yorkshire is a match for any enchanted landscape...
THERE’S A NOVELTY – A TORTOISE ON A FAST!
Because of their longevity, it always feels as if there is extra pressure and added responsibility when treating a tortoise. This was particularly so with Toby, a septuagenarian who had been bequeathed to his new owner Pam in a will. When I met her for the first time before Toby’s first hibernation with her, she was worried. ‘Julian, I do feel very responsible all of a sudden,’ she confessed. ‘I don’t really know much about tortoises and Toby is older than I am. Not by much, mind.’
So I checked Toby over – as much as his impenetrable shell would allow. I weighed him and measured him and gave a couple of vitamin injections to keep his levels topped up over the cold winter months. I reassured Pam that packing Toby away in a box in the fridge was a good thing to do. It allowed perfect temperature control at exactly the correct level to slow Toby’s metabolism. If a tortoise hibernates in a cardboard box in a shed, shifts in temperature can be confusing and ultimately catastrophic.
The next time I met Pam was in the spring. Toby had duly emerged from his slumbers, but he was sluggish and stubbornly refusing to eat. This is called ‘post-hibernation anorexia’ and can be a challenge to treat. Frequent warm baths can help, but Pam had tried this and it didn’t help. I checked him over to make sure there were no signs of ill-health, like a mouth infection, or a foot injury sustained by being nibbled by mice during the big sleep (this was unlikely since Toby had been in the fridge, although it can happen in a shed). He seemed very healthy, but he turned his nose up at the smorgasbord of offerings Pam had lined up in front of his wrinkled face.
There was nothing for it but force-feeding. This is not a very nice procedure. First, you have to grasp each side of the tortoise’s head very firmly behind its jaws and hold on tightly as the patient tries to pull his head in. Tortoises have very strong muscles and can powerfully resist a human’s finger
and thumb, so there is usually a battle of wills and it feels as if you are going to pull its head off! Then you slide the plastic stomach tube down the oesophagus, which must feel awful for the tortoise. The nutrient mixture didn’t whet Toby’s appetite; it must have tasted as horrible as it looked. I managed to instil about an eggcup full, but was left with a big mess and a tortoise in a sulk, steadfastly refusing to stick out head, tail or limbs from under his shell.
Two days later, Toby and Pam were back. He hadn’t eaten at all and was now refusing to drink. ‘Leave him with me, Pam,’ I said. I decided to pay a visit to the local greengrocer’s to seek out a picnic fit for a king tortoise – beansprouts, blueberries,
coriander, pears and parsnips were all on my list. But would it work?
Back at the practice, I arranged everything on a plate and offered each titbit to Toby. He pulled his head into his shell in disgust at everything. Eventually I sliced a blueberry in half, exposing the succulent insides. Success! Toby’s jaws opened and he gulped it down. Then he ate the second half. I was dancing with delight.
I knew he was on the mend. For pudding, he ate half a beansprout.
A few weeks later I arranged to call on Toby and Pam in their garden. By now, spring had well and truly arrived and the lawn was bursting with dandelions, well known to be the favourite food of tortoises. I lay down on the sunny grass with Toby and hand-fed him freshly plucked dandelions, which he devoured with
gusto. Both Pam and I felt the weight of responsibility lift from our shoulders. Toby was thriving.
All Creatures: Heart-warming Tales From A Yorkshire Vet by Julian Norton is published by Coronet, £16.99. © Julian Norton 2021. Adapted by Mary Greene. To order a copy for £14.95 go to mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3308 9193. Free UK delivery on orders over £20. Offer valid until 20/03/2021.