We flew out to Vancouver and drove up to Whistler to spend a few days. It was a terrific time and we were able to see lots of wildlife including a herd of caribou which crossed our path one day.
After they had passed we prepaired to move on until we noticed one solitary baby caribou who had fallen behind the rest of the group. He was hobbling on three legs and the remaining leg, the right back one, was dragging uselessly behind. It was obviously broken and the rest of the herd had left this straggler to be ravaged by wolves.
I immediately took pity on the poor creature but my friends were slightly less than compassionate. In fact, they began throwing rocks and sticks at it! I couldn't believe my eyes.
Right away I put myself between them and the hopeless animal shouting, "Hey! Cut it out, you jerks!"
When they finally stopped, I turned around to find that the baby caribou was hobbling away as fast as he could. I tried to approach him, but he kept limping away. He didn't understand that I wanted to help him. Eventually I had no choice but to grab him by his stubby little velvet covered antlers and gently wrestle him to the ground. As quickly as I could I fashioned a splint out of my belt and some driftwood that was lying conveniently close.
This was no simple task and the struggle that ensued went on for what seemed like hours. When it was all over, the baby caribou's leg was set and we were both exhausted. Dusk was beginning to fall and my friends, now humbled by my valiant deed, decided to set up camp.
Upon the next morning I concluded that the baby caribou must be hungry. Not knowing what a baby caribou's diet consisted of, I resorted to the mother bird tactic. I gathered some nuts and berries, thoroughly chewed them and then regurgitated the product directly into the baby caribou's mouth. This seemed to work and slowly the baby caribou was nursed back to health. Of course he was grateful and naturally, when my friends and I decided to move on he began to follow us. This was a problem and after trying in vain to coax him back into the wild we decided to turn him into the proper authorities at the nearest town.
And what a sight we were. A bunch of American college boys hiking into town with a baby caribou at our heels.
We contacted the Humane Society of Canada and they told us that they don't handle large animals like caribou, even baby ones. Instead they suggested we contact the Royal Department of the Protection of Her Majesty's Beasts of the Wild.
"What!?" we said.
They repeated it several times and eventually we were able to find the RDPHMBW in the phone book and explain to them our predicament. Two local department members, Jim and Dan, were more than happy to meet us and when they saw the baby caribou with the splint on his leg they asked me, "Are you a doctor or a vet or something?" to which I had to reply, "No, no. I'm just an art student. I draw cartoons." They were not convinced and insisted on calling me "Doc" for the rest of the day which all of my friends thought was hilarious and so the name folllowed me back to college and will probably follow me for the rest of my life. The end.
