Veterinarian Choi Young-min is a beloved figure in the animal care community.

A regular on popular TV program “Animal Farm,” Choi treats a wide variety of creatures, from lizards to sparrows, turtles and hedgehogs. The sight of tiny limbs taped down for an X-ray, or being gently cradled in one hand for a checkup, often evokes both squeals for their cuteness and a twinge of pity in viewers.

"It's adorable to watch, but for a veterinarian, it means the work is more challenging," said Choi, who has practiced veterinary medicine for over three decades and is a pioneer in treating wild and diverse other animals in South Korea.

When doctors treat patients, they usually do so with the naked eye. However, when Choi operates on tiny animals, he requires magnifying glasses, stronger lights and specialized tools.

“Their organs are tiny and a blood vessel looks like a mere drop. But no matter how small it is, it’s very important to them,” he said.

The surgical tools used by veterinarians are typically designed for dogs and cats, making them unsuitable for his patients. He often relies on instruments made for eye doctors, or when necessary he uses tools he has crafted himself.

“For most tiny animals, the surgical tools have to be customized. I often need to cut wood, plastic and steel, using woodcutters, drills and saws.”

To anesthetize birds with long beaks, he uses a narrow-necked bottle, such as a plastic soda bottle, to expose them to anesthetic gas. For snakes, he places them in a long, round acrylic tube to straighten their bodies before administering the gas.

“Herbivores are easily frightened, so it is necessary to ease their tension,” he said.

He referred to the example of snails, which are easily frightened and retract into their shells. He uses warm water to calm them. Once the snails emerge from their shells, he swiftly administers an injection or performs the necessary procedure.

Turtles are also difficult to anesthetize. When a turtle is scared, it can hold its breath for up to 30 minutes. Even when the anesthetic gas is released, the turtle may not take in the gas and instead may just look around blankly.

Choi does everything he can to soothe scared animals. He surrounds the cage with soft towels, warms the cage and injects oxygen. He also turns the lights off to make them sleepy.

“When treating pets and livestock, you can find guidance in veterinary textbooks,” he said. “But for wild or special animals, I need to rely more on creativity.”

One day, a turtle with a broken leg came to him. After he operated on its leg, he attached a Lego wheel to allow the turtle to move around.

Although Choi is best known for treating tiny creatures, his clients are not always small. He also treats large predators like tigers and lions.

He was among the few vets who studied exotic animal medicine in the US during the 1990s, when there were no such programs in Korea. When he began his practice, calls came in for all kinds of animals kept at zoos -- over 200 species spanning birds to mammals to fish.

“Treating wild predators is not easy,” he said. “When treating a lion, for instance, vets risk their lives.”

To treat a large predator like a lion, multiple vets and assistants must work as a team.

Since tasks like weighing the animal, checking its teeth, feet and claws, measuring its blood pressure and drawing blood must all be completed within the limited time provided by anesthesia — usually around 20 minutes — it’s a race against time.

But there are times when the anesthesia can suddenly wear off. In such a case, the veterinarians should flee as agreed upon beforehand — each in a different direction — to minimize the risk that anyone gets hurt.

The most terrifying moment he recalled happened about 10 years ago when he was called to a small zoo at a mountainside hotel in Daegu with a broadcast crew. The tiger looked ill, so he decided to transfer it to a hospital in downtown Daegu.

Due to the lack of a proper cage, they used a chicken coop made of wire, which was not strong enough to contain the tiger. They anesthetized the tiger and tied its four legs with rope. They then loaded the cage onto a cargo truck with two vets, including Choi himself, and five staff members accompanying it in the back.

While driving down the road, the rough terrain caused the vehicle to jolt, which then dislodged the anesthesia IV from the tiger and loosened one of the ropes around it. The animal started to wake up. Everyone in the truck panicked. Choi, although terrified, managed to crawl over to the tiger to reinsert the anesthesia IV. However, amid the confusion, too much anesthetic was used and the tiger stopped breathing. He performed CPR, and after about 15 minutes the tiger began breathing again. They ended up safely arriving at the hospital where the tiger was eventually treated.

"The television program only showed the scenes where we were safely transporting the tiger to the hospital," he said. "However, it was the most terrifying moment for all of us. I'll never be able to forget it."

The tiger, however, despite its near-death experience, was lucky compared to many other animals that do not have the chance for treatment when they are sick.

A few years ago, Choi was called to a small zoo where a gorilla had stopped eating. When he arrived along with other vets, they discovered that the space where the ill gorilla was being kept was too small for them to tranquilize it with a tranquilizer gun from a safe distance. Unfortunately, the gorilla ended up passing away, and it was discovered only after its death that it had suffered from heart disease.

“Animals captured in the wild and brought to zoos tend to show no signs of illness unless they are very ill,” Choi explained. “By instinct, they know that revealing their weakness can led to ostracization from the group and (even) eventual death,” he said.

By the time zookeepers notice an animal is sick and call a vet, their health has often already worsened significantly, he explained.

His hope is that more people can get closer to animals and pay attention to them.

Choi, 59, grew up in Nonhyeon-dong in Gangnam, southern Seoul, where his clinic is now located.

When he was a child, the district was a rural area. He used to catch fish, frogs and dragonflies on the farmland and in the lake. In their yard, his family raised chickens. When they let the chickens out in the morning, they would roam around and then return home in the evening. At night, bats would fly all around, he recalled.

“At that time, we were close to nature and animals, but it is not the same for (many) kids these days,” he said. “Such experiences have transformed into science and knowledge. We are now far from nature.”

Before humans began farming about 10,000 years ago, there were 99 percent nondomesticated animals and just 1 percent humans on Earth. Now, it has changed to 67 percent livestock, 32 percent humans and 1 percent nondomesticated animals, according to UK-based civic group Population Matters.

“Many wild animals are becoming extinct, but the truth is, we don’t really care. We are only racing forward for the sake of convenience and scientific advancement,” he said.

“I believe my job is taking care of the remaining wild animals and livestock, which now comprise the majority of living beings on Earth,” he said. “In this sense, I believe I am healing our planet, which is why I love my job.”