[Moderator's note: The bulk of this issue is two BFF postings. If it was a busier day, I'd have to give priority to the *domestic* ferret posts. Please let's not lose sight of the stated purpose of this list. BIG] This is the latest, first hand story of the Tuesday seizure under threat of force, imprisonment & proscecution. I cried as I read it as I can relate to the work that went into the little girls' intensive care, and progress of recovery, only to be cut short by "government" indifference. Respectfully, Gary Black Footed Ferret Press release 5/27/95 For Immediate general distribution Sabrina The True Story Of A Black-Footed Ferret Killed By The National Biological Service As nearly as I can Reconstruct, Sabrina was one of those kits that should have let go... She was marginal from the start and it was only her fragile beauty that seduced her caretakers into coddling and hand feeding her into stability. Born with a parasitic disease called coccidiosis, she was never able to entirely shake it off, and anytime life got particularly tough, the coccidia would take over. Losing her home and being moved to the strangeness of a new facility was more than ample distress. She looked and felt poorly and lost her appetite. I'm not sure how her life went because she didn't come in= to mine until she was a ripe old five years herself. She was part of a group of 27 senior black-footeds designated for release into the wild. What possessed anyone to select this particularly vulnerable individual to meet the challenges of life in the wild, is beyond imagination. Sabrina never had a well day after arriving at the pre-release conditioning facility at Pueblo, Colorado. She had good days and bad days, but standard medication did her little good. She was soon ignoring even the little treats that had previously stimulated some interest. She refused solid food and was put on a special liquid diet. Her medical records might have been useful in improving her care, but those records were denied to the medical staff in an effort to obscure even more profound and widespread disabilities among the older ferrets. She spent a few ill-advised days outdoors in the conditioning enclosures before collapsing. (In the February winter of Wyoming, from living indoors for years). When I came to feed her, she would slowly climb the tunnel to the upper cage, where she would stand forlornly, staring into space. Her head and body seemed out of proportion to each other, her body being so skinny. Her coat gradually thinned and her skin became transparent. A veterinarian examined her and took blood samples and she was diagnosed with liver disease. Because she had reached the point of needing around the clock care, I transported her to my home to hand feed her and give her fluids. This "wild" little ferret lay gently in my hands while I syringe fed her a high calorie liquid formula. After a couple of days of intensive care, Sabrina began to respond, taking her formula more eagerly and licking her soft white muzzle with reserved enthusiasm. She even dipped her head slightly from side to side, which is a ferret's way of saying, "boy that's good, compliments to the chef!". Although Sabrina's prognosis was poor, she was alert and responsive and even began to drink some formula from a bowl on her own. Because I was a veterinary nurse at the Pueblo facility, I was examining and treating the older animals. I became very concerned that so many animals that had been "screened" for release, seemed wholly unfit f= or the task. In treating illness and injury, I discovered animals partially blind, broken, blunted and missing teeth, an umbilical hernia, a large tumor later found to be malignant, a variety of diseases, and numerous injuries from prarie dogs and other ferrets. Sabrina was only outdoors for a few days before falling seriously ill. Like so many of the other old ferrets, she failed to endure even the protected, pre-conditioning experience. Two of us working with the older animals at Pueblo began to speak out about the problems we were seeing. When our supervisor would not listen--or even look--we asked a newspaper reporter to look at the situation. The reporter wrote the story; Pictures were taken. Soon, other newspapers became interested and hundreds of citizens came forth to lend their support. I organized a committee to develop a proposal for a facility which would provide a familiar, comfortable and medically complete environment for all of the older ferrets. The more that we caretakers talked, the madder the bosses got. The bosses' bosses also got mad. Finally a visit to Pueblo was organized. The group stood around the cages and looked. They overlooked the courtesy of announcing their arrival. They even failed to introduce themselves to the staff members that were the cause of the visit. The group then went away to consider the situation. They decided that the best way to deal with the problem was to get rid of the people who were talking about it. Early one morning a little boss named Jerry came to Pueblo and told me to collect my personal property and leave the facility. Since I have, in essence, furnished the project, the specter of the task was staggering. I spent the day with not one, not two, but three people following me closely, presumably to be sure I did not pilfer my own property. Animals were left unattended until I suggested there might be a better way to spend their time. Jerry advised me to hurry up, or he would call the military police and have me bodily ejected. He frowned and scowled and forgot to thank me for my years of extraordinary service. Then, he announced he was taking possession of Sabrina. And I told him he was not, at least not without a court order. He proceeded to call the main office, and they, in turn, the local authorities. He declared his intention to return her to the Pueblo facility, where, as of that day, there was no longer ANY type of medical care for over 200 animals. When I was then threatened with arrest, imprisonment and prosecution, my thoughts were still for Sabrina and what could be done for her under the circumstances. I then suggested calling our emergency veterinarian, for it seemed she would be in competent hands, but when he was called, it was learned that he was out of town. Jerry's next suggestion was that she be taken to Colorado State University veterinary facility and that a doctor would be on hand to receive her. What ever the care on the other end--and certainly that would have been compromised by Sabrina not knowing the person giving the treatment--I expressed my firm belief that the long drive of 150 miles would, in her present condition, kill her. Jerry demanded that I relinquish her and I finally agreed, insisting that I be allowed to improve her chance of survival by feeding and rehydrating her. This was agreed, however later in the evening Jerry declared that he was late and in a hurry and that I would not be allowed to feed her. His callous indifference to the needs of a critically Ill and highly endangered animal must be noted. His selfishness was the final flourish to a day of threats, demands, and personal insults. I presume that his boss, Dean Biggins of the National Biological Survey, had made his own calculated scheme of dictatorial ruthlessness, but Jerry always managed to bring rudeness to an art form. It was either feed or no ferret as far as I was concerned, but I managed to work a Tom Sawyer deal where Jerry and his cohorts unloaded all my property from three trucks while I fed Sabrina. And she was fully cooperative, taking 35cc of liquid diet. I was holding her gently inside a feeding bag at the time and she was calm. I noted that she had gained a small, significant, 10 grams, and that her membranes were pink. However, the light kiss I planted on her head was a farewell. She was not up to the trip and should not have been moved until proper local care was available. The young man with Jerry grabbed the carrier, and was swinging it in a heavy drizzle, headed for his truck. The following morning the call came from the doctor at CSU; Sabrina was in seizures and respiratory failure; Two hours later she was dead. Ego and mini-power trips had taken yet another life. I spoke to the veterinarian about a necropsy and he said he would be performing one if requested to do so. He was back later in the afternoon to inform me that although the necropsy had been performed, Jerry Godbey had instructed him that I was not to have that information. Well, I know what killed Sabrina and I don't need a necropsy report to corroborate the findings. If Jerry's department does not severely reprimand him for this self-serving bit of dictatorial indifference to animal and human alike, then the entire staff will have to share the blame for the loss of Sabrina equally. If you would like to let Mr. Godbey know in what light you regard him, his fax is 303-226-9230. Carolyn R. Kinsey, CVT. 140 W. 29th. St., Ste. 191, Pueblo, Co. 81008 719-391-2627 [Posted in FML issue 1207]