That's DOCTOR girl to you!

Speaking of firsts, it was in this same clinic that I did my first solo equine castration. Now I'd done a few with another vet present, and we'd always seem to have some or other drama - rogue runaway tiny testicles, poor anaesthesia, the horse we had to anaesthetise IN A CATTLE RACE and drag out before he fell over because even with three-times the recommended dose of sedation we still couldn't get near him...

So I was understandably nervous about going out on my own where there wouldn't be someone with me to top up the anaesthesia when things inevitably went wrong.
"Don't worry," said the senior vet as he grappled with an angry cat that was intent on clawing his face off, "it's in town so if you need a hand just give us a call."
Bearing in mind that by the time I would "need a hand" it would probably be too late as the horse would most likely be galloping off with or without his testicles by the time help arrived, I was not particularly comforted by his assurances.

Now the ideal paddock for a field surgery is flat without any trees or bushes or ditches for the horse to stagger into as it recovers from anaesthesia, and is preferably covered in nice, clean, short grass. The patient will be well handled and haltered and able to be approached and injected in the vein in its neck.

I arrived to a scene from "Once Were Warriors" with the addition of a horse. Two heavily tattooed and moko'd (tribal facial tattoos) large Maori guys were hanging off the end of a rope, the other end of which was attached to a prancing, rearing colt in a paddock that would have made a good site for downhill go-cart racing had it not been for the knee-high grass, barbed wire and gorse scrub covering the ground. Funnily enough, I was not surprised.

I greeted them and got the sedative shot ready. Luckily the horse settled down quickly and wasn't too bad to inject. While the colt got sleepy I drew up the anaesthetic. The guys looked on in interest.
"You got a lot of drugs there eh."
"Aw yeah," I replied, trying to hide the label of the ketamine bottle from view, "but it's all pretty heavy stuff - could knock an elephant out if I had to!"
The laughed.
"You done a few of these, girl?" one guy asked as I approached the now very wobbly colt.
"Oh yeah, heaps," I said confidently, though what I thought was, 'That's DOCTOR girl to you!'
I injected the anaesthetic and guided the horse's head as he collapsed on the flattest part of the hill I could find. I then tramped out an area in the grass on which to place my surgery kit and proceeded with the surgery.
As I sliced open the scrotum and pulled the first testicle out I realised that it had become very quiet. All the blokey joking had stopped and both guys were looking decidedly white under their tattoos as they watched the testicle drop from the cutting end of the clamps. I decided to get my own back for the poor conditions (and lack of respect) and, picking up the testicle, tossed it at the nearest guy.
"Fancy a feed of Rocky Mountain Oysters bro?"
It broke the tension and I even got a couple of weak grins out of the boys. Not so tough now eh!

By the time I'd finished the surgery and was packing up the guys had regained their old bravado, and the one in charge approached me.
"So how much is it girl?" he asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a roll of bills.
I told him and he counted out the fee in $20 notes, before handing it to me with a "Chur bro" (for all non-Kiwi readers that means, "Thank you for your excellent services and have a nice day.")

That's the first time I've ever been paid in cash on a farm...it was very tempting to stop by at the pub on the way back to the clinic too - goodness knows I deserved a drink after that one!