Search Site   
Current News Stories
Kentucky broiler farm sold in tracts brings $798,500
Beekeeping Boot Camp offers hands-on learning
Kentucky debuts ‘Friends of Agriculture’ license plate
New facility will bring locally produced ammonia to Minnesota
Legislation gives Hoosier vendors more opportunities to sell products
Great Dandelion, Violet bloom a few weeks away
Public Lands Council, BLM sign MOU to promote grazing allotment coop monitoring
National Ag Day celebration scheduled for March 24
Second year of U of I field study on ginger’s Midwest suitability
National Archery in the Schools Program state tournament
Ohio Cattlemen’s Association shifts gears with new collaborative Summit format
   
News Articles
Search News  
   
Just yell “go” and start the mushing adventure of a veterinarian
 
The Bookworm Sez
Terri Schlichenmeyer
 
“Four Thousand Paws: Caring for the Dogs of the Iditarod, a Veterinarian’s Story” by Lee Morgan, c.2024, Liveright, $27.99, 304 pages

There aren’t many things worse than unintentionally sliding on the ice.
You know it’s going to happen before it does, and that makes it worse. You slip, recombobulate, whirl your arms and adjust, then boom, down you go anyhow. Slipping on ice is not fun, never mind driving on it – unless, of course your ride doesn’t glide on gasoline. Unless, as in the new book “Four Thousand Paws” by Lee Morgan, it runs on salmon and dog chow.
We take travel for granted. It’s easy to jump in a car and go, forgetting that for centuries, Alaska’s Indigenous people used sleds to travel across what would become our 49th state’s terrain. We rarely consider that until 1973, their trail was just a trail. 
That was when the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race officially began.
Basically following ancient trade routes, and said to be longer than a thousand miles (but actually shorter), the first Iditarod race itself was rough, making explorers out of the inaugural 34 teams. The man who won the first Iditarod completed it in twenty days; today’s mushers finish the race in roughly half that, days of physical and mental endurance, brutal weather, and beautiful terrain.
Knowing that, how could a long-time veterinarian who loved dogs possibly skip a chance to care for the musher’s teams? In 2012, Lee Morgan applied for the gig because it was a natural match: he was an outdoorsman and adventurer, and volunteering in the remote Alaskan outback seemed like a good time. Plus... dogs.
Hundreds of dogs, huskies at forty-five pounds each or less, goofy dogs that Morgan swears were smiling at him, patients that knew the drill and were impatient with him when he dared to do a required, regular-stop examination out of order. Dogs, he says, that should be considered as elite as any other high-level athletes that undertake a challenge that seems like fun. The dogs are eager to run, Morgan says, and up to fourteen of them do their jobs well. It’s exciting and hard. And sometimes, it’s dangerous...
Before you start reading “Four Thousand Paws,” compare and consider this: your vehicle is pretty great, but when did your car ever give you a wet, sloppy kiss? 
Likely never but since you also probably won’t ever get to the grocer’s by dogsled, you can be glad that someone will tell you about it. Author Lee Morgan shares a journey that is, like many, from the back of a sled, from a freezing tent, and neck-deep in snow, but it’s also about a ten-year love affair with the land, the Iditarod, the mushers that run it, and the dogs that make it happen. His front-of-the-line perspective is different, and the race-to-dog balance of the tale is just right.
Don’t expect to see much “MUSH!” in this book; Morgan says mushers don’t say that. They yell, “GO!” and they’re off – just as you should be, too. If you’re the adventurous type or you love dogs, “Four Thousand Paws” is a book that’s easy to slide into. 
3/5/2024