Animal Whisperer: Take Back My Life and Love Chapter 209: The Unknown Toxin

The male crane, clearly her mate, flapped his wings frantically. He let out a series of sharp, distressed cries that echoed through the area.

"Boss! You're a vet, right? Please, you have to save my wife!"

"Stay calm, I've got her." Nancy centered herself immediately.

With so many prying eyes around, this was no place for a medical examination. More importantly, a wild Red-crowned crane was a protected species; she couldn't simply spirit it away to the Loren Zoo on her own.

She remembered Commissioner Quinton—one of the three experts who had assisted with the red panda surgery. He was the head of the Municipal Wildlife Rescue Station.

Nancy pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled rapidly until she found his number. She hit dial, her voice urgent but professional.

"Commissioner Quinton! This is Nancy. I'm at the Townsville University convocation!"

"I have a wild female Red-crowned crane here in sudden distress. It's an emergency—she needs immediate rescue!"

Quinton's tone shifted to one of dead seriousness. "Understood. I'm dispatching a vehicle right now!"

"Send me your exact coordinates immediately!"

Twenty minutes later, a professional wildlife rescue vehicle pulled up near Nancy.

Staff members carefully transferred the weakened female onto a stretcher and into the van. Without a second's hesitation, Nancy climbed in after her.

She turned and beckoned to the anxious male crane standing watch. "Come on, get in!"

To the absolute shock of the rescue staff, the male crane seemed to understand her perfectly. He hopped into the vehicle without a moment's resistance.

The staff exchanged bewildered looks. This girl was handling a high-strung, guarded Class I protected animal as if she were calling over an old friend.

Nancy didn't forget the flock of birds watching from the sidelines. She leaned out of the window and shouted:

"I'll take you to the zoo once I'm finished here! The wagtails will let everyone know the plan~"

The birds chirped back like a worried fan club:

"Go! Hurry! A life is on the line!"

"Let us know when she's better!"

Half an hour later, inside the diagnostic room of the Municipal Wildlife Rescue Station.

The cold glare of the surgical lights poured down, making the female crane's white feathers look almost translucent. Her breathing was shallow and labored; in just thirty minutes, she had begun to struggle for air.

The crane was settled onto an operating table lined with sterile pads, her long, elegant neck drooping limply.

Commissioner Quinton was already prepped. Dressed in a white lab coat with a surgical mask covering his face, his brow was furrowed in a deep, troubled scowl.

"Miss Nancy, I need your help," he said, his voice muffled but urgent. "She's in bad shape, and... she only seems to lower her guard when you're around."

Nancy's heart tightened. She nodded, quickly disinfected her hands, threw on a lab coat, and took her position on the other side of the table.

The two worked in perfect harmony—fast and precise.

Restrain, disinfect, locate the wing vein, draw blood.

Throughout the process, the female crane only gave a slight shiver when the needle pierced her skin. Her damp, dark eyes remained fixed on Nancy, filled with a weak, desperate trust.

The blood sample was rushed into the rapid analyzer. The machine emitted a low hum as its indicator lights flickered, scrolling through complex data on the screen.

Minutes ticked by in a heavy silence.

Suddenly, a sharp beep rang out as the report printed.

Quinton snatched the paper, his eyes darting across the values and charts. A second later, he looked up, his gaze piercing.

"This crane has been poisoned!"

Nancy felt a jolt of shock. She frowned. "Could it be pesticides? Accidentally ingesting treated crops?"

Many wild animals met their end this way—consuming contaminated food or crops sprayed with chemicals. It was a leading cause of extinction for many species.

Quinton shook his head, his brow knitting tighter. "No, this isn't common pesticide poisoning."

He thrust the report toward Nancy, his voice dropping an octave. "It's strange. I can't even identify the specific toxin."

"Miss Nancy, take a look."

Nancy took the report, her eyes scanning the alarming indicators.

The blood count showed a massive spike in hematocrit, meaning the crane was severely dehydrated. The white blood cell count was off the charts, indicating a massive infection.

The chemistry panel was even worse. The liver and kidney markers were all in the red; her organs were failing.

Quinton wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Hemorrhagic gastroenteritis, complicated by multi-organ failure."

"But the progression is too fast. It doesn't look like a standard infection." We've screened for all the common poisons, and none of them fit."

He looked uncharacteristically helpless. "The symptoms are acute and severe, but we can't find the source..."