Rarely a week goes by in the
summer months when I am not chatting to someone, a visitor or office bound
colleague, who remarks on how much I must love my job and how lucky I am to
work outside at this time of year. To
which of course I reply, with a suntanned grin, that yes, spring and summer are
the bee knees of working outdoors and I wouldn’t swap it for anything (needless
to say, they do not make this comment in the depths of winter when they see me
trudging into the office soaking wet and frozen to the bone).
However, I feel it is only right
to share with you the aspects of the job that come with this luxury of days spent
working in the sunshine and fresh air, for with the peak growing and living
season it is not only the nice plants and animals that emerge and thrive…
Our Wiltshire Horn sheep flock
are a hardy breed that has the excellent quality of shearing themselves, by
shedding their fleeces off in warmer weather.
This and the combined attribute of having a very short fleece means that
they are generally not very prone to getting hits of Blowfly strike. Blowfly strike is a hideous scenario that
comes in in the warmer, wetter months of late Spring though to Autumn. Sheep are very prone to it as are long haired
pet rabbits (I’ve heard). Flies will
hover round areas of a sheep that are mucky and moist, such as very dirty back
ends where the fleece is soiled with faeces or afterbirth and they will land
and lay eggs on this soiled fleece. The
eggs hatch, and the maggots eat their way through the soiled fleece…and keep
eating. Eat, eat, eat they burrow their
way down through the flesh, with more eggs being laid and hatched
continuously. If the problem is not
caught quickly, it can lead to a horrible toxic death within only a few
days. With this cheerful thought in
mind, I have been paranoid about fly strike this year and have trained the sheep
lookers in the early signs to look for, which includes dark stains on the
fleece, scratching, stamping and the sheep generally acting off colour.
We have treated the flock with a
flystrike preventative since March this year and I had my fingers crossed we
would get away with it…but a few weeks ago Mike, my Thursday looker rang me to
say he was concerned about one sheep he had spotted with dark staining on her
neck. I went up to the Down and it didn’t
take me long to find the ewe in question and even from a few metres away I could
see, without a doubt that she had been hit with blowfly strike. I coaxed her to me with a bucket of nuts, got
the halter on her and commenced a 30 minute battle to get her to the holding
pen – she may have had maggots in her neck but they obviously hadn’t weakened
her yet as she kicked, jumped, bucked her way to the pen, sometimes lying flat
on the floor and refusing to budge – and I defy anyone to try and drag a 70kg
sheep by a nose halter if she doesn’t want to move. However eventually with a mixture of nuts and
tough love I got her in the pen, tied her halter to the fence and commenced the
clean-up job. And eeeuuuuurrrrrgh! What a joyful hour I spent! On closer inspection I found the poor thing
had two holes in her neck both heaving with maggots. Cracks radiated out from the holes showing
where the smaller maggots were starting to spread outwards in fleshy highways
and there was a lot of bloody fluid leaking out. Bearing in mind that the lookers check the
sheep daily, this must have been the result of only a day’s worth of hatched
maggots which, in the high humidity and very hot weather had accelerated their devastating
munching march. As I scooped out maggots
with my finger, reaching as far down into the neck wound as I could reach, I tried
not to throw up at the stench that wafted up and around us. Rotting flesh flavoured my nostrils and the
incessant buzzing of more flies around my face had me muttering, swearing and
retching at the maggots in equal turn even as I decimated them with the Finger
of Death.
After an hour’s worth of baby
wiping, trimming away the blood stained, crusty fleece and ejecting maggots I quickly
called Ryan to ask him to come up with suitable sheep transport so that we
could take her to our Vet Field at Mottisfont for her recovery. I poured in some Crovect fluid which did the
very satisfying job of burning out all the remaining maggots that were lurking
further down under the neck skin and which I couldn’t reach with my
finger. Out they came, wriggling in
agony and shrieking their maggoty cries as they abandoned their fleshy ship and
threw their grotesque plump bodies over the edge. I watched with cold eyes and helped them on
their way with more scooping actions.
Finally the poor girl was clear of maggots. I applied various treatments to the holes in
her neck including antibacterial and antiseptic spray and, when Ryan and the
volunteers arrived we loaded her and one other lucky ewe (to keep her company)
into the truck and took them back to Mottisfont.
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From this... |
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..to this... |
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...to this! Finally looking much better, only a week after the last photo was taken - amazing really. |
It is now 3 weeks later and,
after a daily routine of cleaning out pus, cleaning the wound and surrounding
fleece (I tried several methods to get the blood stained fleece clean including
shaving, trimming and a natural nettle shampoo which worked best) she is
healing well. The vet had to come and
cut off two big chunks of over granulated gristle which had swelled up out the
hole and was preventing it from healing over (I know, more bleurgh) but now she
is looking like a much happier sheep again, with the surrounding flesh returned
to a healthy pink, and the holes almost fully healed together.
Even now though, as the hot spell
has let up slightly and some wetter weather has moved in, I keep my eyes
anxiously peeled for any more cases of flystrike…
And talking of eyes, I had an
interesting experience with another creepy crawly recently. During one of my daily clean up visits to
Maggot Face (as I fondly named my poor ewe) I was besieged by…well no one knows
what. I had just caught the sheep and
was in the process of tying her halter to the gate when I felt and saw
something land on the lower lashes of my right eye – and then the pain kicked
in as it went in my eye. Fumbling with
the halter I finished tying up the sheep and then climbed over the gate and ran
to the truck and looked in the wing mirror looking for the fly or whatever it
was that had flown into my eye. I looked
and looked but couldn’t find anything and, blinking hard, I decided I must have
blinked it away. Well throughout the
rest of that day, the pain returned off and on to my eye and each time I looked
in a mirror and saw nothing, finally concluding that I must have scratched the lens, or that a fly or a
hair must be stuck at the back somewhere and would work its own way out. I used an eye wash to try and flush it out
and carried on with my day.
However by evening, the pain was
still off and on and when it did return it was getting more intense and my eye
was more irritated. My housemate Laura
finally got tired of my yelping in pain and running from the kitchen to the
mirror that she had me pinned down and peered in my eye with a torch, looking
for the elusive hair or whatever it was.
After a few seconds she inhaled
and then putting down the torch she put her hand on my arm and calmly said a
sentence I never want to hear again in my life:
‘Now. I don’t want you to panic….but...there is
something crawling around in your eye.’
‘Oh very funny!’ I snapped, sure
she was joking.
‘Noooo, seriously, I’m not
kidding.’
Disbelievingly I looked in the
mirror myself, holding the torch to my eyeball and there…at that exact moment…SOMETHING
crawled across the black pupil of my eye and disappeared into the other side.
Cue Panic.
As I hopped up and down beating
the side of my head and gibbering about staying calm but oh its soooooo gross,
Laura grabbed her car keys and ushered me out the door (we realised later how
rubbish we would be in a real emergency, as we both ran out the house without
money, phones and barely even shoes).
As it was late evening and
everything was shut, Laura drove me to the Eye Unit at A and E and I had to
endure the disbelieving looks of the receptionists, nurses and eye doctors as I
retold my tale. However once the eye
doctor had me strapped in the chair and examined my eye….he almost gave up
looking when ‘aha!’ He extracted out the little wretched creepy thing, using
the most sophisticated of tools, a wooden stick (very painful on the
eye!). I sighed in relief – until he
picked up the stick again and went back into my eye…and again…and again! After the fourth one he switched to tweezers
as he assured me it would be less painful (gibber) and 7 alien beasties later,
he washed my eye out and gave me some eye drops to prevent infection whilst
assuring me that nothing in the UK lays eggs in eyes or can cause blindness….
Getting home to a ruined dinner
and feeling slightly depressed at the whole situation, I shuddered with horror
when I felt the familiar pain return…and consequently I plucked two more of the
tiny things from my eyeball before finally feeling like they were all
gone. Argh! If they ever get the results
back on what the things were, I will let you know – Dylan’s bet is on aliens,
other people thought it was something that jumped off the sheep, but based on
how they floated down into my eye and the way they wriggled more like some kind
of water larvae I am not convinced.
So the next time someone remarks
on how lucky I am to work in the great outdoors, I will smile and nod in
agreement, all the while remembering that after the nettles stings, bramble
scratches and insect bites, we still have flesh eating maggots and eye dwelling
beasties to contend with – but I will still be content, knowing these are only the
slightly less desirable perks of the job.