by Keith Schopp
Thanks to a close encounter with a Minnesota porcupine, our grouse hunt quickly turned into a hot mess. We heard a bark and a yip and watched the canine return with a face full of quills.
For the next 30 minutes or so, my partner and I took turns restraining a wide-eyed German shorthaired pointer (GSP) while attempting to pull quills from her mouth, nose and neck. Soon, all three of us were hot and sweaty, drenched in dog saliva mixed with a little blood and dirt from the forest floor.
“Finally,” I exclaimed. “The last quill!” With a sure tug of the Leatherman tool, I extracted the remaining barb from the roof of the dogs’ mouth.
“I’m glad that’s over,” Steve said.
“Me too,” I replied and took a big swig of water.
The dog, however, had other ideas. As soon as we let go, she was off in a flash. About 10 seconds later we heard some barking and another yip.
“You don’t think …”
Yes. She did. We’ll never know if the GSP had revenge on her mind or thought she’d win round two. Either way, she found the porky and we soon found ourselves assuming our respective quill-pulling positions. Our only consolation: this time there were only a few quills to pull instead of 100.
Clearly, the dog didn’t learn her lesson. But I did.
Porcupine lesson learned (part one): Always have a Leatherman tool on your belt. When you’re done removing quills, slap a lead on the dog and vacate the area.
I never stop learning the hard way, especially when it comes to sporting dogs and keeping them safe and healthy.
I learn from the best. My longtime friend and fellow Purina retiree, Bob West, used to chide me because my dogs live mostly in the house and tend to eat things they shouldn’t. Clothes. Firewood. Plants. Flea collars.
“If you keep your dogs in a kennel, they won’t eat things they shouldn’t,” Bob reminded me time after time.
Oh yes, they will.
I kept my GSP Willa in the kennel one day while I hunted my other dogs. When it came time for Willa’s turn to hunt, imagine my surprise when I returned to the kennel and found Willa ate most of her heavy nylon dog bed-platform. This was not a cushy comfy dog bed. It was a resting platform that I thought impervious to consumption. Apparently, Willa was so ticked off because she didn’t get to hunt, she decided to trash the resting platform and eat most of it.
Instead of a late afternoon hunt, Willa and I headed for a local vet clinic. A quick X-ray confirmed her stomach was full of foreign material. The veterinarian induced vomiting and marveled at the volume of green fabric Willa had swallowed. “Here comes some more,” he said as a crowd of technicians gathered to watch. “And she’s not done yet!”
Lesson learned – don’t leave anything for aggressive chewers to ingest – especially if you’re not around to supervise. Even in a kennel!
I never was a Boy Scout, but I like the “Be Prepared” motto – especially on road trips with my dogs.
Last year, at the RGS & AWS National Hunt, things were going smoothly. All the dogs were happy and healthy when I put them in the truck for the night. When I aired the dogs at 6 a.m., Willa came out lame with slight swelling in her front left leg. I examined her paw, pads, flexed her knee and couldn’t find the source of the problem.
She had hunted hard for three days in a row. Maybe she’s just sore.
Maybe not.
Two hours later when we arrived at our hunting spot, Willa’s foot was swollen to twice its normal size.
Time to call the veterinarian, make an appointment and get some meds.
After calls to three local vet clinics, it was clear Willa wasn’t going to see a vet that day. No openings!
“You could drive to Fargo,” one of the receptionists suggested. “Otherwise, our next appointment is next Wednesday.”
Fargo was three hours away. And next Wednesday would probably work if we needed an amputation.
“Would it be possible to get some antibiotics?” I asked.
“No, we’d need a veterinarian to see the dog,” replied the receptionist. “You could drive to Fargo.”
Forget Fargo. I decided to take photos of Willa’s foot and text them to two veterinarian friends. They both said the same thing: “Probably a small puncture you can’t see that quickly became infected.”
Both vets suggested soaking the foot in Epsom salts and treating the dog with antibiotics.
Except, I didn’t have any antibiotics. And I didn’t want to go to Fargo.
Luckily, a friend had some “spare” antibiotics. I checked with my veterinarian, confirmed the dosage and administered the pill. Meanwhile, my veterinarian called in a script to the local pharmacy.
Willa’s foot was back to normal within 24 hours!
Lesson learned? Make every effort to get into a local clinic. If you can’t, it pays to have a great long-distance relationship with a trusted veterinarian. Do no harm, but doing nothing is not an option. Plan ahead! Take some spare meds just in case of diarrhea, infection, pain or inflammation. Consult with your veterinarian before doing anything. And as a last resort, go to Fargo.
Since our lessons for this article began with a porcupine story, we might as well end with one.
This time, it was me and my friend, Bob, on the ground pulling quills from the mouth of his English pointer, Macie. Poor Macie was loaded with quills and the Leatherman worked well – to a point. Several quills had broken off inside Macie’s mouth, some even lodged in the gums between her teeth. Try as we might, we could not get a grip on those short quills.
“Do you have a forceps?” Bob asked. “Or a hemostat?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “By the way, what’s the difference between a forceps and a hemostat? I thought they were the same thing?”
“I don’t know,” Bob said. “Forceps. Hemostat. Forstat. Hemoceps. Whatever! That’s what we need to get a grip on these short quills.”
We found our forceps, or maybe it was a hemostat, in my big first aid kit back at the farm.
It worked!
Lesson learned: Carry a forceps or a hemostat. Or both. And if you think there’s a chance or a sign you missed a quill – take your dog to the vet. Fargo isn’t that far.
Keith Schopp is a freelance journalist and retired communications executive with a passion for sporting dogs and conservation. Based in Southern Illinois and North Dakota, Schopp enjoys following his Labrador retrievers and German shorthaired pointers wherever gamebirds can be found.
