HOSPITAL AT A ZOO

Shannon News, 29 October 1926, Page 1

HOSPITAL AT A ZOO

SOME STRANGE PATIENTS Those who visit the Auckland Zoo probably never give a thought to the fact that birds, beasts, reptiles, and even fishes now and again feel out or sorts and need medical attention. But the clever people who run Zoos know this very well. That is why, within the London Zoo, there is a hospital for patients who cannot talk about their symptoms when they fUII ill, says a writer in an English paper. When the gr.eat, yellow-maned lion goes off his raw, red meat and limps, with a furrowed face, up and down his cage, his keeper knows that something is wrong. He is not really a very sick lion; but he needs a manicure. In the Zoo hospital manicuring a lion is child's play. The sick and grump lion is inveigled into a small cage with the lure of some special delicacy. Once there, he is pushed into a corner by means of an advancing door, and his head ,and' feet are caught in a noose. The Zoo manicurist then attends to the ingrowing claws, and the lion smiles again. When Mr. Bear goes on the sick list—usUally either with indigestion or eye trouble—he is a pitiable sight, In dealing %ith him, stategy again comes into play., He is lured to a safe place, chloroformed, and operated upon just like a human patient. The hippopotamus is not a good patient; he is apt to be peppery. So. when he gets a headache, or feels that things are not going well inside his armour-plated hide, he is rather an awkward customer to tackle. But the staff of the Zoo hospital pit human brains against brute strength. "Hippos" are very fond of oranges, so the sick fellow is given a special treat. .He takes them, one by one, I smacks his chops, and feels better. I Little does he know that in one of those succulent fruits is a very powerful dose of medicine prescribed for him by Professor Wooldridge, the consulting surgeon to the Zoological Society. When the wild boar neglects himself to such an extent that his tusk grows into the roof of his big mouth, it is'time to take him to hospital Once there, he, is soon tied up and gagged, ready for the chisel, and mallet with which his superfluous ivory is chipped off. Beavers Going to the Dentist ' People who have watched the busy 1 beaver at work probably wonder how that industrious little ' fellow manages to do all his gnawing with only one set of teeth. In his native Canadian woods his incessant building of dams keeps his teeth a reasonable length. But in the Zoo, where he is idle, his ' teeth grow to an inconvenient length, so he, too, pays a periodical visit to the 'dental department. The casualty department of the hospital is kept busv by the monkeys. Monkeys, like men, cannot keep from fighting. Teeth and.nails send fur flying ,and often the vanquished. have to be removed for first aid. Parrots are regarded by most people as hardy, long-lived birds. So they are; but they have their trouble! Asthma is one of them. Polly, with Asthma, is popped into hospital, Her complaint makes her r Irritable and vicious; but she must, get her medicine. She usually takes it without knowing it—camouflaged in a dainty morsel. Even the big aviaries of the Zoo provide occasional patients for the Zoo doctors. For instance, one bird broke a wing in flight. It was not destroyed, but the wing was cunningly set and the bird recovered. No Gratitude from Patients Most doctors will say that one of the compensations for their busy lives is the gratitude of their patients. This solace is denied ■• the doctor who makes the sick giraffe well, and operates upon the ailing lion. For, though many big animals have a strange memory for the faces of the men who attended them when ill, they are by no means - grateful. They harbour a grudge, for they remember the pain forgetting the benefits that flowed from it. Big or little, funny or pathetic, it is all the same to the doctors of the Zoo's population. Getting pills down the giraffe's throat, trimming the hoofs of the wild ass, or lancing the abscessed gums of a boa-constrictor—■ it is all in a day's work.