Zoo vet makes house calls for sick turtles (Via Herp Digest)

Zoo vet makes house calls for sick turtles
by ALLAN TURNER, HOUSTON CHRONICLE
August 26, 2011

GALVESTON - Eighteen years ago, a lunch plate-sized female Kemp's ridley sea turtle - one of thousands hatched and nurtured to save the species from extinction - was released off Galveston Island. This May, the turtle, weighing about 100 pounds and laden with dozens of eggs, returned to nest near Jamaica Beach.

It should have been a victorious return, an indication that the endangered species, reduced to only 300 known breeding females in 1985, was making a comeback. But this return was no success.
A boat's propeller had cleaved a 100-square-inch segment from the animal's shell, shattering much of what remained. Bleeding, oozing, its mangled rear quarters resembling hamburger meat, the turtle that would be designated LNH110528-01 seemed destined to die.

Discovered by a beachcomber, the animal was taken to the National Marine Fisheries Service's Galveston turtle hospital and a frantic call was placed to Dr. Joe Flanagan, veterinary chief at the Houston Zoo.
When it comes to sick or injured turtles, Flanagan, 53, is the region's go-to doc, a gray-haired, avuncular Dr. Oz, Marcus Welby and Dr. Ruth rolled into one. Ben Higgins, manager of the fishery service's sea turtle program, calls Flanagan's volunteer work key to his hospital's success.
"We can't afford a veterinarian," he says.

Up to 45 turtles a year - victims of infections, propellers or fishhooks - come under Flanagan's care. Most are treated at the Houston Zoo, where he oversees the 17-member team charged with caring for the facility's 6,000 animals.

Those requiring long-term care are kept in tanks at the Galveston hospital, an unfunded sideline of the federal program to test strategies to save turtles from commercial fishing operations.
Armed with a sophisticated pharmaceutical arsenal and skilled at delicate surgical maneuvers accomplished through tissues outside the shell, Flanagan modestly plays down his role in turtle health.
"Turtles," he says, "will survive."

Flanagan, a Nebraska native who took his veterinary training at Iowa State University, professes a fascination with turtles that dates to his childhood.

"They occur all over the world, from oceans to deserts. They all hatch from eggs, but some in less than two months and others in 18. The come in all sizes. Some fit in the palm of your hand, some are 6 to 8 feet. . They're just neat to look at."

This week, Flanagan's hospitalized patients included tiny hawksbill turtles whose flippers were severed by fibers of nylon bags in which they'd become entangled; a turtle that suffered bleeding after a fishhook was extracted from its neck; loggerhead hatchlings that inexplicably stopped eating; and LNH110528-01, which was to be examined for possible release.
Touch-and-go

The fate of the stranded ridley was touch-and-go after she was discovered May 28 while attempting to dig nest holes near Jamaica Beach. A boat's propeller had sliced away much of her shell, exposing muscle, fat and connective tissue.

"It was certain that a person couldn't go through that surgically without worry of totally contaminating the abdominal cavity," Flanagan says.

An ultrasound showed she was filled with eggs. Flanagan administered oxytocin, medication to induce laying, obtaining 68 eggs, most of which hatched. Systemic anti­biotics were given, but the situation remained grim.

The turtle refused to eat, either because she was suffering intense pain or because other eggs remained in her body. X-rays showed she still carried more than a dozen eggs.

A "living tag" on the turtle's shell revealed it had been one of the ridleys hatched in a discontinued Galveston breeding program in 1993. Flanagan, who had worked as a volunteer in that program, feels a special tie to the injured animal. Recalling her fate "almost brought tears to my eyes."

In mid-July, broken shells were found in her tank. More oxytocin was given and the rest of the eggs expelled. At that point, the patient's health and prognosis improved. The open wounds have sealed and toughened.

Not quite ready to go

Although a final decision has not been made, it appears after Flanagan's examination of the turtle that the ridley is not ready to be released.

Protective bone eventually will grow beneath the damaged shell, but that process could take a year. Fractured parts of the remaining shell could be reinforced with braces, but there's no guarantee the patch would last.

"If we release her as she is," Flanagan says, "she never will heal."