If Dr. Doolittle was tougher, more thoughtful – and real – he might be something like Scott Weldy.
Instead of bullets or a dart gun, Weldy prefers to use a primitive blowpipe when dealing with wild creatures, even cougars, lions and tigers.
Why a tranquilizing dart and blowpipe? As we watch a 575-pound black bear stick his snout through a cage at the Orange County Zoo, Weldy explains that using breath-power or low impact CO2-driven darts is gentler on the animal.
You may recall the Lake Forest-based veterinarian from recent news reports. He was the guy that armed men called for when they needed help with a mountain lion in Whiting Ranch Wilderness Park.
Weldy’s also the guy who plans to take me into a shed with more than two-dozen flesh-eating raptors.
• • •
Here’s how the California Veterinary Medical Association described Weldy in June while citing him for meritorious service:
“If Noah needed a veterinarian on board the Ark, Dr. Weldy could have been that veterinarian.”
Although the honor is significant, Weldy never mentions the award during the day I shadow him. He’s too focused on caring for animals, chatting with visitors, discussing the future of wild creatures – and flying down Santiago Canyon on his motorcycle.
In addition to the zoo in Irvine Regional Park, Weldy treats animals at the Santa Ana Zoo, his Orange County Bird of Prey Center and the Exotic Feline Breeding Compound in Rosamond, Calif.
In fact, Weldy worked through the night to transport the teenage mountain lion in Whiting Ranch to the Rosamond facility. Then he arranged for the lion to stay until it’s ready to be permanently placed in an approved facility.
Two years ago, Weldy spent his 31st wedding anniversary much the same way. A 13-year-old mountain lion was found with a herniated disk. The operation took 9.5 hours and Weldy served as anesthesiologist.
Fortunately, his family is patient. Understand that Weldy isn’t just an exotic animal veterinarian. He’s also a regular vet who treats household pets such as reptiles, parrots, cats and dogs.
The cool thing is that Weldy’s been around a mix of domestic and exotic animals all his life – and he’s never had to travel far from home.
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Weldy’s family moved to Mission Viejo in 1966. Many people looked at South County in those days and didn’t see much more than rolling hills. But for a kid like Weldy, there was a lot in those hills and there still is.
At first, Weldy helped take care of the family collie. Soon, he added guinea pigs and rabbits. By high school, he had so many snakes that it came as no surprise when he told friends he planned to be a veterinarian.
After a few years at Saddleback College, Weldy earned his bachelor’s degree at UC Davis in 1979 and his doctorate in 1985.
With a son and daughter, now 23 and 27, Weldy loved visiting local schools with animals. His most memorable guests were a penguin and a baby jaguar. (He left his caiman alligator at home.)
Today, Weldy and his wife have a spaniel (theirs), two snakes, two cockatoos, about 30 turtles, three tortoises and a pond of koi (his).
But Weldy’s true menagerie is far larger. Not only does it include the animals in Rosamond and the two zoos, it also includes most of the county’s wild land animals and birds of prey that need help.
Weldy estimates he receives an injured raptor nearly every other day.
Through his Serrano Animal and Bird Hospital practice, he pays for much of the cost of caring, housing and feeding wildlife. And his devotion isn’t just about the individual animal.
It’s also about science.
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When Weldy talks about animals, it sometimes sounds as if he’s treating beings from other planets.
Explaining what drew him to veterinary medicine, Weldy jokes, “I thought being a single species doctor sounded kind of boring.”
But Weldy’s also serious. He points out that his patients fly, swim or are among the fastest land mammals on Earth.
Additionally, Weldy has to turn into Sherlock Holmes to figure out what’s ailing his patients. Why a detective? His patients can’t say what ails them, what they ate, where it hurts.
Holding an 18-inch, orange and black venomous Gila monster lizard, Weldy doesn’t need to mention one more thing that makes his job, um, interesting. He risks life and limb.
We go behind the mountain lion habitat. A series of smaller and smaller cages allow the animal less control and the doctor more control.
Every wild animal has a job, Weldy offers, and its design generally centers on one thing – survival.
“Sharks are designed to swim fast and eat,” he says. “Birds of prey are sharks with wings.”
I consider his last statement as Weldy pulls up to his bird sanctuary, climbs off his Yamaha XV 1900 and leaves on his black leather chaps and heavy motorcycle boots.
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As with many things, the Internet has transformed the care of wild animals. Among other places, Weldy has worked with the Knoxville Zoo, the University of Tennessee and the San Diego Zoo. He is an expert in exotic felines as well as raptors. But, like his peers, he shares digital information for free.
Global databases help vets care for and breed wild animals in a world where more species are added to the endangered list every year.
Consider how quickly humankind builds, Weldy suggests. “We change the environment quicker than birds can adapt.”
Weldy explains that part of his success is in compartmentalizing his love for animals. “If you’re emotional, you’re not objective enough to treat an animal…The emotional part comes afterward.”
What’s his favorite thing about his work?
“There’s nothing better,” Weldy says, a smile curling under his Fu Manchu moustache, “than rehabilitating an animal and releasing it into the wild.”
He pauses as he unlocks one of several wooden doors.
There’s a mighty rush of feathers.
• • •
With a wingspan of nearly five feet, a Great Horned Owl flutters in front of my face.
Being so close to a bird so large and so powerful is other-worldly. I can feel the wind from its beating wings.
The owl settles on a horizontal pole near a few other owls. Its eyes are startlingly wide open, gold with enormous black pupils. I blink. It doesn’t.
Weldy cracks open another door. It sounds like the soundtrack to Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds.”
I poke my head into a room with more than a dozen Cooper’s Hawks and a dozen Red Shouldered Hawks. Although healing from injuries, these birds remain so aggressive that they sometimes smash into the wooden walls.
It’s a magnificent display of primal power, of the rawness of the natural world.
But what’s even more magnificent, is that nearly all the birds have healed enough to be released over the next few days.
By the time you read this, they will fly free.
David Whiting’s column appears four days a week; dwhiting@ocregister.com.
