Chisomo means Grace in Chichewa. Finally I had a nice name that I could pronounce! It was perfect for the dog whose leg I amputated last week. Saying goodbye was sad but it’s stories like hers that get me in the zone and ready for the next adventure. We did some GV’s in town – I was car security whilst Adam hopped and Marc and Bruce walked into the throng of people going about their Saturday morning business and filmed.  A few takes for the final scene but finally got it in the bag.

Time to go home! Dinner tonight to say goodbye – real privilege to work with Lee, Richard and their team. Donna and RSPCA International have done great things in getting this going and I’m really sold on the ethics and ethos of what the Wildlife Centre and the LSPCA are going to achieve out here. I’m certain WVS can help and I’ll start recruiting teams for them right away. It’s been brilliant but can’t wait to get back – home tomorrow – be amazing to see how Noah has grown!! Intense first shoot but really worthwhile.

Luke – Nathan – Marc – Adam 24 may 2010

The most momentous thing in the last two weeks has been the building of Noah’s sandpit. I was determined to get this cracked before the next trip. It was a Father’s quest for his son; and having just read a book about Viking’s and feeling like I could suddenly carve a longboat out of the only tree in our garden, there was no stopping me digging a sandpit in the rabbit pen. It was destined to be a great sandpit and then I ordered 3 tonnes of sand to fill it and things started to get complicated.

There is a good reason I’m a vet and not a builder and this is a prime example why I’d never make it in the trade. In all honesty I very much doubt I could carve a longboat either, and if I did, there would always be the nagging worry it might not float. Thinking sand would compress so I would need more than whatever I worked out was necessary, I went online and found a website calculation that would work out what I needed. Cords quietly pointed out to me that this particular website calculation might have been encouraging me to buy more sand off the company sponsoring it, a very valid point, and as it turned out, a correct one; but it was too late, and so the five times washed, best quality in the world sand, was ordered in a heartbeat and well on its way before I realised I could have been a touch hasty.

Three tonnes of sand on the road outside your house is a lot of sand. I know that now. The lorry couldn’t get up the drive (too big) the pallet trolley wouldn’t run on gravel, it was also the Thursday before Good Friday and there was no way the delivery driver was going to spend more than 7.5 seconds doing his last delivery of the day at 2.30pm to give it much effort. This meant when I got home about 7.30pm I had to somehow shift three tonnes of sand off the road (fairly lethal threat to the unassuming motorist weaving their way along the unmarked lane through the village) before it got dark at 7.45pm. Pretty much as soon as my truck pitched up at the house, half the neighbours descended on our house to discuss the merits of my sand delivery with Cords, whilst I got a wheelbarrow and an oversized trowel out the shed.

Like every man, I secretly wanted to own the biggest shovel in the village and I was feeling a touch inadequate, but being a wonderful village, the sort of place where everyone knows everyone, it was only about ten minutes before Nick from next door turned up with his wheelbarrow and (much larger) shovel and Malcolm came over with a couple of cold beers to re-energise us. Dave tried to help but it was getting crowded as Mark down the road offered to get his tractor and pallet forks and lift them onto the drive. What seemed to be a nightmare job turned into a brilliant Thursday night and the English village spirit was strong on our road that night. In fact the whole exercise got me in a great mood for the whole Easter break – admittedly the sandpit is more like a beach (deceptively deep one) but Noah loves it and it got me all set up for stepping back into the alternate reality of making this series.

So here I am, two weeks after Malawi, sitting on a plane, bouncing my way to Grenada. Still hate flying, not a fan of turbulence and the air steward can’t walk past me without crashing into my knee which simply won’t fit into the space in front of my seat. Maybe he’s trying to reassure me with a bit of human touch as we bounce up and down fifty feet but neither that, nor the dazzling smile he keeps giving me, are doing much to put me at ease. I think it’s time for a drink if I can manage it without spilling it everywhere.

Adam (boss / cameraman / Sly Stallone the ‘fiery Italian‘), Nathan (soundman / ‘Bruce Lee‘), Marc (series producer / ‘Big Chuck‘) are in the usual spots all telling Clive (vet, buddy, Noah’s Godfather, tough South African) to say lefty loosey, righty tighty to me all the time in reference to my inability to under a broken windscreen wiper whilst we were in Kenya last year. Great to have Clive on the trip, the support will be awesome and will make doing the work, whilst working with the camera, much easier. Be a winner just to have another vet to bounce ideas off as well as someone else to share this surreal experience with. Been on loads of trips with Clive so only fitting we nail a few of these tv ones together.

Grenada is the self proclaimed ‘Isle of Spice’. It comprises of three islands, each one a little gem of paradise in the southern tip of the Caribbean. Famed for secluded coves, sandy beaches, blue skies, inland mountain trails not to mention stunning corals, sunken shipwrecks and amazing dive sites off the coast; sadly little time to enjoy the islands delights as we’re going there to help the GSPCA and their uphill battle to make a stand against animal cruelty which is apparently a huge problem in the country. Time to find out…

Hectic first day. Dazzling sunshine outside – apparently. We were in the clinic today working with Emma, the new graduate Grenadian vet and the team at the GSPCA. Peggy is a dynamo and has done so much to set up this fantastic clinic after the hurricane devastated it in 2004. Great feel to the place, really nice team to work with and a good start. Clive battled to spay a pituitary-challenged weimeranaer with ehlrichiosis whilst I worked with Emma to do a few ops and go over a couple of new techniques. She is very competent and I don’t think I added much to her surgical prowess but it was fun to sort out an aural haematoma using the button technique (where you stitch lots of buttons to the dogs ear after draining the blood out of it – the buttons evenly distribute pressure and stop the blood reforming)and it‘s always good to see how we are all trained in slightly different techniques. Met a dog owner who is the ultimate hardcore adventurer – he and his family (wife, little girl and dog) have spent the last five years on the high seas. His little girl was on the boat from six weeks old. Sailed from Thailand, across the Indian Ocean, across the Med and Atlantic Ocean and is now harbouring here for a little while. Really nice guy with the ultimate can-do attitude.  It’s always inspiring to meet people like that.

Tomorrow we are heading out to the communities, but the biggest challenge will be sleeping through the night. We’re all staying in rooms above the clinic and there is a sweet little dog in with a retro bulbar abscess behind it’s eye that howls constantly. Adam and Marc are tearing their hair out as they can’t sleep a wink with any animal related noises and although we’ve made the dog as comfortable as possible for the night, I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s simply not used to sleeping indoors and is going to start howling again at 3am. Time will tell but if we all look a bit bleary eyed tomorrow (with the exception of ‘Bruce’ who is apparently immune to night-time external stimuli) – I promise it isn’t the rum…

Big community day – heading to the poorest communities of Grenada. Large mix of fairly scary looking pit bull terriers and other rangy street dogs. Lot of skin problems, one dog had been bitten by a mongoose, another had a foreign body between it’s toes (which we sedated and flushed), couple of TVT’s (transmissible venereal tumours) – course of vincristine and arranged to be neutered, and the standard array of bite wounds and flea, tick and worm infestations. One chap we met runs a rum shop/bar out of a shack, big fella with dreads and a large gold tooth – came out first with a huge pit bull terrier proudly telling me it had killed ten other dogs that had come onto his territory – he then returned moments later with a little cavalier king charles spaniel which he sheepishly brought me for treatment (had KCS – dry eye). Big tough guy with his tough dog for show and then his little lap dog he clearly dotes on. Really sweet little dog. I have my suspicions that his big pit bull isn’t quite as fierce as he made out as well, it wagged its tail like mad when I was examining it and it seemed almost as soft as the little CKC! He was a very friendly guy as well so I think the bravado was a bit for show for the crowd as much as anything else.

People are really friendly and seemed very happy for us to pitch up and do the treatments. Didn’t see any real signs of cruelty or abuse, more neglect and ignorance as is normally the case. Amazing to dip just over the hill, not a mile from the luxurious coast and white sandy beaches to find just impoverished wooden shacks that no tourist would ever realise were there. All the kids were flying home made kites which made dazzling displays above us as we worked.

Rest of the team are on form. Clive is deep in the zone wearily rolling his eyes every time I try to mix two drugs in the same syringe whilst trying to carefully steer me on the right track as I fire out drugs and treatments to any animal that comes in range. It’s great to have his help on the clinics, despite me corrupting his perfectionist approach to each case, he’s a huge asset with the tricky ones and it’s brilliant having someone to bounce ideas off. Adam seems pretty chilled which is great, Nathan is carrying stuff a lot and I think Marc’s a bit worried about gripping stories so fingers crossed we find something really hardcore to get stuck into on Carriacou where we are heading by boat tomorrow.

I’m writing today’s entry sitting on the balcony of our apartment about fifty metres from the beach. The sun seems to be almost reluctant in its gradual sinking descent below the horizon, there is a cool Caribbean breeze gently coming in off the sea and it’s by far the most relaxing evening of the trip to date. Adam is getting to grips with the night camera whilst teaching us some handy Italian phrases that you would never repeat to your Mother, Nathan is composing a Spanish love letter to his current favourite senorita, Marc is shaving his beard and Clive is stressing about a misbehaving locum who is supposed to be manning his practice back home.

Carriacou is a world apart from Grenada, it’s almost like stepping back in time. Everyone is very relaxed, there are a lot less people and the vibe is very much Caribbean time. This isn’t quite as bad as Africa time, but it’s a close run thing.

The big thing that happened immediately after our arrival on the island (the largest of the Grenadines) – was that we rescued a critically endangered hawksbill turtle from a local fisherman under the direction of Dario who runs the KIDO foundation. I instinctively liked Dario, his enthusiasm and outspoken passion for conserving the turtles second to none and he rattled off about a million facts about hawksbill turtles before we had even got the poor creature into the boat. Sadly the fisherman had cracked its plastron but we think it should heal fine and to be very honest, the options for hospitalisation and treatment for a 45year old female hawksbill turtle are limited. Clive has seen innumerate tortoises recover from those sort of injuries without any additional treatment so fingers crossed she is okay.

It was an amazing experience to be involved in the whole process and one I won’t forget in a hurry. They are beautiful creatures that are often caught up in the fishing lines that lace the islands reefs and corals. Although illegal for non-locals to catch them (they are CITES listed with over 90% of their population having been wiped out in the last ten years) under Grenada Fisheries law it is actually LEGAL for locals to catch turtles, from September 1 to April 30 (the only ‘year round’ protected turtle is the Leatherback (also because there is little demand locally, few people actually enjoy its oily tough meat). So during the legal hunting season Kido purchases the live turtles, which would otherwise suffer abominably for three/four days on their back, dragged all about before being finally put out of their misery (to date they have rescued 261 mature turtles).

There is no other way he can get the turtles off the fishermen and it’s a society of chilled compromise where strong arm tactics would never work. I admire his tenacity and although a very controversial way to try to protect them, he is pragmatic about what he can do and what will work. Once we had the turtle three miles out to sea, to avoid any more fishing lines, we popped her back in the water and she swam off at incredible speed. An amazing experience.

Eggs and nesting turtles are illegal to tamper with at all times. Unfortunately enforcement is non existent and since the eggs are supposedly an aphrodisiac they are prime targets, Kido patrol the beaches between march and August and their presence on the nesting beaches, community vigilance and  training of local youths is proving to be effective. The grand plan is that we will join them one night this week so fingers crossed it all works out.

Sadly there was also a catastrophe today. It transpires that Bruce can’t buy beer. He has no concept of money and managed to pay over three times the asking price for a round of tiny bottled beers. In short, he can’t be trusted with such incredibly important tasks and has taken a verbal beating from all of us for a good couple of hours (and will continue to do so tomorrow probably).

Hot day, I kicked off with a quick cat castrate at the clinic and the crew did some GVs (general views) in town. We then got the stuff together and met up with Charlene who is one of the islands agricultural workers. Essentially she is one of the islands unofficial vets (there are two agricultural workers – Charlene and Princess who work under the direction of Mr Moses). They travel around the island treating sick animals as best they can. Under resourced but government funded, they treat what they can and make the best of the situations they’re presented with. Sadly, their lack of drugs leads to some welfare issues. A dog that was euthanased for attacking a sheep was killed with some Epsom salts I/V – a bad death, I’ve promised to leave Charlene with some lethobarb so at least they can make a clean job of things. it’s tricky because they aren’t a charity or non-profit organisation, they are a government funded programme that is poorly equipped and under staffed. I can’t change that and although not technically the right thing to do, I am going to give them some drugs because I simply can’t bear them euthanizing the animals like that. I’m working on trying to get them to stop operating and leave that to volunteer teams because none of them are vets and they are doing the job on virtually conscious animals with no pain relief. There are no laws to prohibit them doing this so it needs to be positive cooperative action and I think they‘ll actually be fairly relieved when the volunteer teams come to give them a hand with the huge workload they have on. I liked Charlene, although not having the drugs or the training, she clearly did care about the animals which is why she brought the issue up withy me. She was light hearted and also very keen to show us around and visit cases that her team and the GSPCA are struggling with.

The GSPCA isn’t geared up to help livestock – all the vets tend to be small animal, so it was a good opportunity for us to get stuck in. We visited a sheep that had been mauled by a dog, built a wallow for a pig with sunburn, saw a goat with a huge inguinal hernia, and I tried to sort out a kid (baby goat) with bilateral contracted tendons. Desperately sadly, I couldn’t fix it with a simple operation as there was some bony fusion and other genetic abnormalities that meant despite anaesthetising it and trying to cut the tendons, I had to put it to sleep. I was so disappointed about it and it was heartbreaking to see the Mother goat calling for her baby which I had just taken away and ended up euthanizing but if left, that little baby goat would have grown deformed, twisted and ended up with huge pressure sores on the sides of its legs. It was a kill or cure operation and just desperately disappointing that I couldn’t have had a better result.

We also met back up with Dario who had rescued another hawksbill turtle – he is a great guy, really enthusing about his protection of these critically endangered animals and a very likeable man. It’s a controversial thing to effectively buy the turtles off the fishermen but the bottom line is that although he will come under criticism for the way he is trying to protect these animals, at least he is actually doing something and making a stand.

There aren’t any other options available and I admire him for his courage and passion. Combining this work with the school education puppet shows that he runs around the island performing, I think Dario and Marina are together solely responsible for bringing awareness to the locals of the problem.

Adam got some great shots and Marc had a whirl with the underwater camera so fingers crossed it makes the cut.

Really hot day and we were all exhausted by the end of it, went for a quick swim to cool down and debrief on the events – we’re all on tender hooks for a night call to go and look at nesting turtles so fingers crossed it happens!

Very exciting news at home – spoke to Cords and Noah has started walking! Can’t wait to see him in action!

Dipping into the seas of the Carribean to swim with turtles was an incredible experience and we were very lucky to spend some quality time with JP and Clare from Lumbadive.

Who would have imagined I would get time on a WVS trip to go diving! It was lovely to see the turtles in their natural environment – swimming gracefully in the ocean depths rather than having been caught up in a net, dumped on the beach, flipped up on their backs and left to cook in the sun. A very sad ending for a 45 year old turtle.

As much as the islanders are nice, relaxed people, I will never agree with the base line level of cruelty with which they treat these beautiful animals. The hawksbill and leatherback turtles are critically endangered and registered as CITES 1 and despite it being part of the culture here, to hunt and kill these creatures, it is something that seems so ruthless and unnecessary.

Despite being one of the poorest countries in the Carribean, no one on the island seems to be short of food. Having said that, it’s not solely because of the islanders that these turtles are endangered – it is because the big fishing ships and the drift nets that round up more turtles in a day than the islanders take in a season, but every step counts on a long hard journey and it’s thanks to people like Dario and Wendy who are making a stand to try to turn things around, that the awareness is getting out there.

Adam and Nathan had never been diving before and JP took them into the sea to try it out – they both seemed to really enjoy it – fairly hardcore having your first dive in 20metres of water in the Caribbean sea! Adam, Clive and I also managed to get ourselves quite sunburnt on our backs from being perched on the edge of the boat for about an hour. The sun is phenomenally strong here and we are all sitting a bit tenderly this evening – with the exception of Marc who had already applied five layers of sunscreen on himself at 4.30am this morning just before he put his towel on the boat. German efficiency wins again. Back slapping has been forbidden – although I’m wary of Bruce Lee sneaking up on me at any time. He’s a slippery one for sure.

It was an early start – 3am we had a call from Dario who was on night patrol to protect the turtles coming ashore to lay their eggs from poachers. To that end he has employed a team of locals to help guard the nesting beaches from 8pm to 5am every night between March and August each year. The man is simply a dynamo of energy and together with Marina, his wife, they have reached hero status in my eyes.

The nesting leatherback was breathtakingly beautiful. One of the most ancient species on earth (around when T Rex was cruising the shoreline looking for snacks), I felt sorry for her as we all crowded round but Dario assured us we weren’t disturbing her and since we were using infra red and red lights on our cameras and torches, our interference was kept to a minimum. Leatherbacks can dive deepest of all the turtles, over 4000ft into the depths, and they are also the largest and most endangered of the ancient species. Every 2-3 years, they lay clutches of eggs, up to 90 at a time in nests three feet beneath the sand. They do this up to ten times at ten day intervals, mainly a night, to ensure maximum chances of thei offspring surviving. Secreting salt from glands by their eyes, it looked a bit as if she was crying, but Dario explained this was a mechanism to keep the eyes moist whilst she went about her business. In sharp contrast to the elegance with which they can swim underwater, the walk onto the beach was clearly an effort for this huge 700lb turtle, but the power in her fins made short work of burying her nest and getting her back out to the open water after only about an hour on shore.

The drive to get to the turtle was of course, far from straight forward. We were running on fumes with an empty petrol tank, stress was high octane in the car and the crew were frantic with pressure for us to get there and capture the footage. If I’m honest, I think the fact there was so much stress did take away a touch of the magic of the whole event , but it was still an absolute privilege to witness this magnificent creature doing her part in the quest for survival of the species.

The rest of the day involved nipping back to check on a dog that we treated a couple of days ago and I’m glad to say has recovered well. Clive nailed a surgery at the clinic and we visited a fitting pig and a sheep that had been ‘bumped’ by a car. Thankfully, not ‘mashed’ (killed in Caribbean slang) and although a broken tibia, both Clive and I are very hopeful she will mend with our basic splint. Charlene is going to come and check on her tomorrow and keep us posted. There were a few background ptc (pieces to camera) that I had to nail and that was fun.
Evening dinner was the best fish of the entire trip – I recommend a red snapper at Lambi bar if you’re ever visiting – and now it is time to get some kip because even if we don’t get a call from Dario, we’ll still have to be up at 4.30am in order to get the ferry back to the mainland.

The seas were rough this morning so up at 4.30am and then a 2 hour boat ride back to St Georges. None of us were firing on all cylinders when we arrived at the clinic. It was a busy morning, Peggy dropped us off and Clive and I worked with Emma, Marcha and Ron to clear the in patients, catch up with the backlog of surgeries (spaying the TVT, removing a lump, cat neuter) and sorted out the walk in clients that came thick and fast first thing. Marc, Adam and Nathan hit the town to get their last shots of the island and get the programme wrapped up.

Late afternoon has been spent organising, final pieces to camera and packing ready for the trip home tomorrow! We leave here at 5.30am so great trip and now I’m all set to get back and see the family. Off for some final rum and cokes and to say goodbye to everyone!!

The last few days have been fairly duck focused. Last night we had a stray duckling arrive in our garden; Little Charlie – our cat – was extremely pleased about this, as was Leuven – our ridgeback – so we all chased it about in a fruitless attempt to catch it. Despite our best efforts, it thankfully found it’s way into Nick’s pond next door where its mother came down to find it – great news. There is nothing like a family duck reunion to get you in a good mood before a long trip. Lulu (my head nurse) also informed just as I was about to leave for the airport that the duck we operated on last Friday not only made it through the weekend but is happily quacking at home with her other rescue duck ‘Deefa’. It’s been given the name ’Polo’ due to the fact it had a huge hole in its beak which we repaired. All great news – since things come in threes, I’m currently waiting for the third duck to appear as I write this blog.

I have a sneaky suspicion that I’ll be in for a long wait. I don’t think Southern India is famed for them, but I could be wrong. No idea what to expect other than plenty of variety and a buffalo with a broken horn. The last few weeks have, once again, gone with a blur. Noah is racing about at home now and causing joyous mayhem everywhere he goes and I can’t believe I’m once again seating on the aisle of a middle row at the back of a fully packed 747 to Bangalore. Seems to have been a mix up with the breakfast – Bruce is sitting a couple of seats to my right has just been given an omelette, I’ve been given a scorching curry. The air hostesses are literally racing up and down dishing out food trays at a million miles an hour, I don’t think there is much chance of me swapping this one. Guess it’s a good a time as any to start easing myself into local cuisine.

One other thing I didn’t know is that Bruce is also a comic writer. I’ve just read one on the flight – wow.