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Category: Student blogs

Communication is key

Recently, I have been engaged in a battle with my internet provider and – ignoring the fact I’ve been without the world wide web for a month – no one seems capable of doing anything about it.

If avoiding angry customers is the aim, communication is key, says Jordan.

Despite these grievances, it’s actually a) the communication factor and b) lack of desire to please the customer annoying me most.

Over the years I’ve worked in retail, and I have been a waitress, during which I was expected to bend over backwards for the customer for fear of garnering a complaint.

I even remember training sessions where we were shown graphs showing the number of complaints received versus words of praise, and how likely the customer would be to spread the word regarding bad service compared to good.

The gist of it all was to not anger anyone because bad news travels fast… and this is just as applicable in the veterinary profession.

The customer is always…

Contrary to the popular saying, the client is most definitely not always right, and as the point of a veterinary consultation is for us to impart our professional knowledge gained through – long and thorough – training, we are obliged to possess pretty fantastic communication skills.

Yes, having to tell a client their beloved pet died unexpectedly during routine surgery is a bit different to being put on hold for the umpteenth time because the advisor on the phone hasn’t read the account record properly, but the underlying principle is the same – so good communication is essential.

As vets, continuity isn’t always possible, but if you have an unknown client on the list you would be expected to brush up on the history and have a vague idea of why they’ve made an appointment. Anything less would be unprofessional – so why do other businesses think this is acceptable?

Strength in numbers

Is there anybody listening?

For these international corporations, the single customer is just a drop in the ocean – losing a few hundred quid a year when I cancel my contract is just pennies to them, and no matter how much of a fuss I kick up, realistically, it won’t touch their reputation.

For vets, however, it’s different – any complaint not only reflects badly on the individual involved, but on the practice and also the profession.

We cannot afford to lose the trust of our clients over silly things like calling a male dog “she” or not spending a few minutes reading through the patient’s notes before they walk into the consult room.

Poor communication is one of the most frequent reasons a complaint is made to the RCVS, and I suspect this is why the vet schools now have a much bigger focus on communication – to help us hit the ground running and (hopefully) avoid such negativity.

Practise makes perfect

Communication skills come with experience, and while they aren’t classically thought of as something that can be taught, we can be armed with certain tools to help us communicate more effectively.

The practical communication skills sessions we’ve had over the years involving actors have been an ideal way of letting us practise dealing with “difficult” clients before being in that situation for real. And now, in our final year, we’ve transitioned into taking our own consults, either with the clinician keeping an eye on us or confirming our findings afterwards and asking the client any questions we may have forgotten.

Being a vet encompasses so much more than clinical knowledge and surgical skills, and my recent phone arguments with various technical support advisors have made me appreciate just how highly trained we are in terms of communication – and that’s something we should aim to maintain to continue to be respected as professionals.

August 17, 2016
Change for the better

The UK veterinary profession is suffering.

While a documented shortage of graduates does not exist as in previous years, significantly less fuss has been kicked up about the announcement of the new Aberystwyth-in-conjunction-with-RVC vet school, compared with the opening of the Surrey Vet School in 2014.

Surrey vet school: a bolt from the blue?

Is this because we knew Aberystwyth was in the pipeline so are not shocked by the announcement, or has the profession kept quiet because we do need more vets?

The problem is not a lack of graduates, but a lack of “experienced vets” and a shortage of vets staying in the profession after a few years of graduation.

This begs the question: why?

The simple answer is, as shown in last year’s “Voices from the future of the veterinary profession” survey conducted by Vet Futures, the profession, in its current state, does not meet expectations of those entering it.

Essentially, we feel undervalued, underpaid and overworked, and lack a sense of life outside veterinary.

Undervalued

The profession has an image problem, in many respects. It is becoming more commercialised, not just because of corporate takeover, but because clients expect more.

We seem to be moving away from the respected professionals who have dedicated their lives to helping animals and, as such, are praised for performing little short of a miracle in medical and surgical feats, and towards the providers of a service that, if not absolutely perfect and costs next to nothing, will only be complained about and bad-mouthed to other customers and competitors.

Sadly, the economic climate has caused much scaremongering, bringing vets to the absolute disposal of the pet owner for fear of losing clients and, therefore, not being able to balance the books.

I feel very strongly part of the reason our services are so undervalued is the NHS (See Jordan’s July 2014 blog post, “I Blame the NHS“).

The everyday person has no concept of how much medical procedures, diagnostics and therapeutics cost. I’ve done the research – prices for private medical care are found fairly easily, but NHS costs? Nigh impossible.

So how can we blame the public for not having a clue how much a radiograph costs? The public perception of veterinary in this country needs to change and I don’t think it will without transparency on human medical costs in conjunction with our veterinary ones.

Overworked

“I struggle to see how many full-time vets’ hours fall within the legal limit,” says Jordan. Image © alarts / Fotolia.

Depending on the kind of practice you’re in, or going into, the relative feeling of being overworked will differ. I realise my points won’t apply to every practice in the country and this is sweeping general opinion on the UK profession as a whole. However, I struggle to see how many full-time vets’ hours fall within the legal limit.

The legislation is complex, with loopholes in the Working Time Regulations 1998 (WTR) possibly allowing certain practices to skirt round some of the “rules”, such as the designated 11-hour consecutive rest break in each 24-hour period and the minimum 24-hour rest break in each 7-day period.

On-call work is difficult to classify, but, in essence, the signing of a workforce agreement (probably as part of an employment contract) means the employee is agreeing to to provide out-of-hours cover that impinges on these designated rest breaks.

Some final year rotations at university I know are well beyond the limits set by the WTR (although the legality is sketchy since we’re not employed while we’re students).

“It’s not a nine-to-five job,” was a comment given with regard to rotation hours. That’s tough love: you’re going to be worked into the ground when you qualify, so you may as well get used to it now. But why? Why can’t veterinary be a nine-to-five job? It certainly is in other countries.

The profession is changing and I really hope this is the kind of change that comes about nationwide. With the increasing popularity of outsourced out-of-hours cover and shift work, why can’t a vet clock off at 5pm, enjoy some exercise, cooking, social activity, whatever and come back to work refreshed the next day ready to put in 110%?

Achieving work-life balance

We have numerous talks at uni about mental health awareness and the importance of work-life balance. But how is it possible to achieve a work-life balance if you’re working from 8am to 8pm and, even on the nights you’re not on call, you essentially only have time to grab something to eat and sleep.

What kind of life is that?

“It’s all very well lecturing us on being conscious of having a work-life balance, but what if it is beyond our control?” Image © DOC RABE Media / Fotolia.

It’s all very well lecturing us on being conscious of having a work-life balance, but what if it is beyond our control, as in so many cases?

I know for a fact, if the profession remains stuck in its ways, I will become just another statistic and leave the UK, if not the profession entirely, within a few years.

Don’t get me wrong, I have loved my rotations so far and the sense of fulfilment when I’m actually getting a handle on things is excellent, but I know I will resent my job if it does not allow for some enjoyment outside of veterinary.

But will it ever change? I think something has to give soon, or the profession will find itself in dire straits before long. How would change come about? If we wait for one practice or chain to provide a great work-life balance and rely on the trend to catch on, I think we’ll be waiting a lifetime. But what if the regulations changed?

I don’t really want to talk about Brexit (I’m sure a little piece of me dies inside every time that word is uttered), but the potential change to employment law (which has mainly been derived from the EU) could allow for changes specific to medical professions to protect us from “burnout”.

Overtime pay should exist in the veterinary world, as it does in any other “normal” job, allowing for those maniacs who want to work 24 hours a day to do so at their leisure (or those who need the extra cash), but not at the detriment to those who don’t wish to. Working out a vet’s base salary as an hourly basis is just depressing. And it shouldn’t be.

I keep hearing phrases such as “the profession is changing” and “it’s an exciting time”. I genuinely hope that is the case and we become the progressive generation we like to think we are, and drag the profession kicking and screaming with us into the modern world of enjoying life outside veterinary and moulding our careers around our lives – not the other way around.

July 30, 2016
How to anaesthetise a reindeer

I’ve written before about omnicompetency, but the word is mostly used in the sense of vets being able to work in mixed practice and tackle the veterinary care of horses, dogs, cats and farm animals in the same day – certainly, the first thing to come to mind would not be a reindeer.

However, on my recent equine placement, the staff were met with quite the challenge when a reindeer was referred in.

“Reindeer aren’t something you’d expect to see every day in practice,” says Jordan.

With a history of acute coughing/regurgitation, the reindeer in question had a suspected food impaction in the cranial oesophagus. Conscious radiographs and an ultrasound scan (he was a very well-behaved reindeer) confirmed suspicions of foodstuff, but it didn’t seem to be in the oesophagus.

Collaborative anaesthesia

The equine team – with help from one of the farm vets and some phone calls to other colleagues and practices that had dealt with reindeer before – came up with an anaesthetic protocol and proceeded to surgery.

The reindeer was induced with ketamine and xylazine before a gastroscope was used to try to visualise the larynx and trachea.

There appeared to be a diverticulum or outpouching from the oesophagus at the level of the larynx, which is where the food impaction had settled.

This discovery triggered a discussion as to whether our findings could be normal in some reindeer – similar to the Zenker’s diverticulum in people – since its appearance suggested a congenital, rather than acquired, defect.

A gastroscope was used to aid placement of an endotracheal tube and the reindeer was, subsequently, maintained under anaesthesia with isoflurane. He was positioned carefully in consideration of the rumen and ventilated throughout the procedure, which was to incise into the pouch using a lateral approach and remove the impacted food material.

Back to his reindeer games

He recovered well from the anaesthesia and was happily bounding around a paddock before long, eating some specially imported moss provided by his owner.

Reindeer aren’t something you’d expect to see every day in practice, but it was a great example of how veterinary knowledge can be adapted and applied to new situations, with the added benefit of working together with others with varying levels of experience to come up with a solution.

June 30, 2016
Standing surgery

On my latest EMS placement at an equine hospital, I’ve seen a number of surgeries – some done under general anaesthesia (GA) and others under standing sedation.

After getting over the fact a horse can stand half asleep while having its face drilled into and not really seem to care, I started wondering about the pros and cons of both approaches.

“Sinus surgery to remove a bony mass – that is me in the pink scrubs holding the head,” says Jordan.

Generally, standing sedation is accompanied by less haemorrhage and, therefore, increased visibility – in sinus surgery, for example. It also eliminates many risks associated with general anaesthesia. However, asepsis may be harder to maintain (for example, if the horse moves and the surgical site comes into contact with something that isn’t sterile, such as the stocks).

Lower costs

For the client, procedures conducted under standing sedation would be much cheaper than the costs incurred from general anaesthesia.

During general anaesthesia, atelectasis contributes to the risks from an intraoperative point of view, as well as myositis and cardiac concerns (of which the risk can be considerably reduced by the use of acepromazine in the premedication protocol).

A risk of injury also exists during recovery and knockdown, such as worsening incomplete fractures or other self-inflicted wounds, which can, to some degree, be prevented by carefully assisted knockdown and paying careful attention during recovery with the use of ropes.

Achieving optimal sedation for standing surgery can, in some cases, be difficult. For example, the horse must be adequately sedated, but not so much it is swaying; this can be an issue for intricate surgeries, but may be more of a problem for diagnostic imaging (such as MRI or bone scintigraphy).

In these cases, I have seen morphine used – opposed to the usual sedative culprits, such as detomidine, butorphanol and xylazine – and it seems to achieve sedation without so much swaying.

Choosing correct method

The choice of standing sedation versus GA depends on the type of surgery required, but a number of procedures can be done using either method.

Last week, I saw tie-back surgeries (prosthetic laryngoplasties to correct laryngeal hemiplegia) done both ways, which made for an interesting comparison. The standing tie-back was considerably quicker, taking into account the time for knockdown and recovery, as well as surgical time.

Both tie-backs were followed by a laser hobday procedure (ventriculoectomy), meaning both procedures were conducted under the same sedation in the standing horse, whereas the tie-back performed after GA had to be followed later the same day, after the horse had recovered sufficiently to undergo standing sedation for the laser.

The second tie-back was a repeat of a previously failed procedure, hence GA was chosen to allow removal of the first prosthesis.

The standing technique is still being tweaked, but, despite reports of postoperative infection in more cases than ideal, the easier access to the laryngeal cartilages while standing – and the avoidance of further risks associated with GA – contribute to continued work to perfect this method.

Some surgeries, however, can still only be done properly via GA. Colic surgery, for example, requires significant abdominal access and, often, examination of the gastrointestinal tract. It is also highly recommended septic joint surgery and lavage is conducted under GA to ensure optimal sterility on closure of the joint.

Conclusion

Having now seen both types of surgery in the horse, it’s astonishing how quick standing surgery can be, and how much goes into the preparation and recovery for GA – even for the shortest of procedures. In one surgery, division of the aryepiglottic fold, causing epiglottic entrapment, took a matter of minutes – if you didn’t count the couple of hours total taken for premedication, knockdown and recovery from GA.

The choice very much depends on the procedure, and is assessed for each case. I do, however, think the advantages to standing surgery are significant and look forward to seeing more standing techniques developed in the future.

June 13, 2016
The beginning of the end of vet school

Exams passed, Jordan can walk the halls of Glasgow’s small animal hospital without feeling like an imposter.

As regular readers of this blog may have noticed, I was a little apprehensive about starting my final year at veterinary school…

Having already been in the small animal hospital for two days, we finally received our results – confirming I and many of my fellow classmates had passed our exams and could now wear our final year jackets without guilt and walk around the hospital without feeling like imposters.

However, despite now knowing we had qualified to be in the hospital, it still felt like we had been thrown in the deep end.

In at the deep end

My first rotation was emergency and critical care, with the first part being internal medicine. The first couple of days were spent frantically researching the background of patients coming in for appointments, bumbling through clinical exams and brushing up on my rusty practical skills.

It was my first time taking consults alone and, after missing out key questions the first few times, I eventually got into the swing of things and made fewer mistakes.

Image: seregraff / Fotolia.

Despite feeling like I didn’t know anything to begin with, I at least managed to scrape together a few sensible ideas when clinicians tried to worm differentials out of us. It has been a steep learning curve, changing the way of thinking entirely to apply things to a real patient in front of you, which usually has not read the textbook.

OOH my goodness

Just as I was beginning to feel comfortable with medicine, we swapped to out of hours – which, against my presumptions, turned out to be a really enjoyable week.

I adjusted to nights far easier than I expected and was powering through until one particularly long night when a bulldog came in with a suspected gastric dilatation volvulus (GDV).

This was the first genuine emergency we’d been involved in and stress levels were running high. Having rapidly set up fluid boluses, taken radiographs to confirm our suspicions, checked lactate levels and run in-house bloods, we went through to theatre. After a very long night of surgery and having warned the owner of an extremely grave prognosis, we were delighted to see said bulldog looking bright and happy the following evening, eating and pulling us down the corridors to the runs outside.

Not all GDVs end with such a happy ending, as we had learned earlier in the week – a dog that underwent the surgery at its own vets came to us for overnight care in ICU and, after a rocky night of a supraventricular tachycardia that we struggled to keep under control, crashed the following morning, was resuscitated successfully once, but could not be saved when it crashed again minutes later.

Hearts, not brains

Coming from nights straight back into days, however, was much harder and I felt like a zombie for the first day of my cardiology week.

On the subsequent days, when my brain was working again, I was able to make a bit more sense of echocardiography and gain a better understanding of some conditions and the tray menu options available.

I also learned a bit more about the genetics of Bengal cats and found trying to heart scan a cat that’s only two generations away from a leopard cat can be quite challenging (and may involve chasing said cat around the ultrasound room for some time, following an artful escape act).

This year isn’t going to be a picnic, but, although I already feel exhausted, if last month is anything to go by, it will be an enjoyable one.

May 17, 2016
Behind the scenes at Fitzpatrick Referrals

Two years ago, I received an email to confirm an EMS placement at a certain well-known veterinary practice in the south of England.

Fitzpatrick Referrals: arguably one of the most recognisable practice premises in the UK. Image taken from the VBJ Practice Profile.

In my head, the placement remained far off until – three days after one set of exams ended and four weeks before another set – it seemed to sneak up on me far quicker than expected.

Brain slightly frazzled from exams, but orthopaedics (hopefully) fresh in my mind, I found myself pulling into the car park of Fitzpatrick Referrals.

Making sense of things

Being such a large and busy hospital, the first few days were a bit manic, with lots of new faces and protocols to get used to. To be honest, just finding my way back to the staff room was quite a challenge.

As my first time in a referral hospital, there were notable differences from first opinion practice, and the sheer number of surgeries the vets would get through in one day was impressive.

I was able to see a lot of surgery, which helped make sense of the numerous abbreviations our orthopaedic lectures presented, for both the conditions and procedures – an FCP corrected by PUO or the options of TPLO or TTA for CrCLR meant very little until I was able to see the procedures and understand a little more why they helped correct the particular conditions.

(If you’re still wondering: FCP = fractured coronoid process; PUO = proximal ulnar osteotomy; TPLO = tibial plateau levelling osteotomy; TTA = tibial tuberosity advancement; CrCLR = cranial cruciate ligament rupture).

Standard versus innovative

Noel Fitzpatrick: veterinary visionary? You be the judge.

The above are among many other “standard” referral procedures carried out at other referral orthopaedic hospitals throughout the country. There are, of course (as seen on television), other surgeries Noel carries out. Whether these are considered groundbreaking, experimental or too much is open to interpretation, but they are certainly unique to the “Supervet”.

Noel himself is clearly very passionate and believes wholeheartedly his innovations provide the best options in the world for his patients.

Many other vets would disagree. Many believe he goes too far; that the prolonged recovery and rehabilitation time for heroic procedures are not justified in patients that live in the moment and cannot perceive the future advantages temporary discomfort may bring.

Having been “behind the scenes”, I’m still not sure where I stand on these heroic procedures, but am certain the ethics must be considered on an individual case basis, as is done at Fitzpatrick’s – for example, limb-sparing surgery was decided against in a case of osteosarcoma in which survey chest radiographs showed metastasis.

Camera shy

Undoubtedly, Noel is an extremely clever bloke who has dedicated his life to providing animals with the best orthopaedic technology possible, but his methods will always remain controversial.

The placement was certainly a worthwhile and very different experience. The stationary cameras around the practice were easy to ignore, but observing a surgery that was being filmed, with the surgeon re-explaining the procedure for the third time at a different angle, not so much.

A very definite highlight was scrubbing into a TPLO and being handed the bone drill, to my utter terror and delight at the same time. I’m not sure the novelty of putting a screw into a dog’s leg will ever wear off.

May 16, 2016
An irrational fear of the final year

Having averaged four hours’ sleep a night for a couple of weeks, I came out of fourth year exams alive… just.

Poster image created online with the Keep Calm-o-Matic.

Sleeping pattern ruined, and a number of family and friends to see in quick succession (seeing as the next time I’ll be “home home” will be in five months or so), the four-day “summer holiday” we were given was anything but restful.

Midway through a week of induction lectures and “how to cope with real life” talks, the prospect of final year rotations beginning in five days’ time is becoming very real.

However, I think the induction week has had the opposite of the desired effect and, subsequently, I am anticipating my first week in the hospital with utter terror.

Panic mode

In theory, we should have the knowledge base to cope with whatever they throw at us in final year. However, in my panic-stricken state, I can only imagine drawing a blank at the first case I’m given and already feel sick at the thought of looking like the idiot I’m almost certain I am.

I feel under-prepared and tired from the last few weeks, not to mention the fact I don’t know if I’ve passed the exams and deserve to be in the hospital in the first place.

Several family members have asked me if it feels like my time at vet school has gone quickly, to which I can only answer “yes and no” – on one hand, it feels like I’ve always been at vet school; on the other, final year has sprung suddenly out of nowhere.

Time flies

Sound familiar?

More relaxed times seem a long way off, such as soaking up the German sun at a yearling auction, or paddling waist-deep through a swamp to care for a puma. Even scrubbing into orthopaedic surgery a month ago seems much more distant. Time flies when you’re having fun… or are kept stupendously busy by the various aspects of vet school.

While this transition feels tough, I’m sure tougher ones are ahead (such as this time next year, when we’re all about to enter the real world of work), but I’ll worry about those closer to the time.

I can only hope students in the year above (those finishing final year), who claim they felt the same way when starting rotations, were speaking the truth and, somehow, as unlikely as it seems right now, we’ll come out the other side as qualified, competent vets.

The question now is whether to spend the next few days – between the remaining induction lectures – catching up on sleep or frantically trying to relearn everything I’m supposed to already know…

May 4, 2016
Omnicompetence – maybe not so foolish?

The first of April brought with it the usual abundance of amusing online articles, tweets and blogs, only claiming credibility until midday – and the veterinary community was no exception.

Sun Life’s “courtesy pet” joke didn’t have vet student Jordan fooled for a minute.

Some April Fools were obvious hoaxes – such as Sun Life’s courtesy pet scheme, offering owners a replacement pet in place of their beloved while away at the vets – while others were a little harder to interpret, such as BEVA’s announcement of a privately funded equine vet degree – or maybe that’s because I was still half asleep and it was the first one I’d seen before realising the date.

Food for thought

Although it was cleared up at midday that BEVA president Mark Bowen was not due to become dean of the first UK equine-only vet school and that the nine traditional degrees would remain the only ones available, it did provoke some thought about whether it would be such a bad idea after all.

While plans for a traditional five-year omnicompetence approach, followed by a further three years of equine-only study, seemed a little far-fetched (fourth year has nearly finished me off – I certainly don’t think I’d hack eight years at vet school), many veterinary schools around the world use a condensed version of this model.

For example, Utrecht University in the Netherlands follows the format of a three-year bachelor’s degree for all species, followed by a three-year master’s degree aimed solely at one species/area (with the exception of 20 weeks). The University of Leige in Belgium compromises in that the fifth year is spent rotating through clinics for all species and half of the final (sixth) year is spent in one area in particular, with a choice of small animal, farm or equine.

Omnicompetence or specialisation?

The question of omnicompetence or specialisation is highly debatable and seems to go around in circles in the UK. Earlier career specialisation would be favoured by some who know, undoubtedly, they never want to see a cat, dog or rabbit again after vet school – likewise for those who shudder at the thought of an emergency caesarean and an angry farmer.

Early specialisation as an equine vet could mean you’ll never find yourself taking a blood sample from a lion. Image courtesy Shamwari Conservation Experience.

But what about those like me, who, after a considerable amount of vet school already under his or her belt and a variety of EMS placements (good and bad), when posed with the question “what sort of practice do you want to go into?” still can’t come up with anything more eloquent than: “Umm… mixed?”

The advantage of omnicompetence is that, in theory, graduates should leave vet school equipped with the knowledge and skills to address most cases in general practice in any field/species, deal with emergencies and know who or where to refer a patient to if the case is beyond his or her abilities.

Early specialisation could change this to the extent an equine or farm graduate asked “can you just look at my dog” may end up looking a bit silly.

Everything changes

Circumstances also change and accidents do happen. A vet may end up sustaining an injury while working with horses or livestock that could prevent him or her from doing so in the future, so a species-specific degree could force him or her to leave clinical practice altogether.

Similarly to the “new vet schools” debate, it is feared introducing species-specific degrees may reduce job availability for graduates who have taken the traditional educational pathway, making the equine sector, in particular, even more “elitist”. Ultimately, this could potentially drive the profession away from the concept of mixed practice altogether.

Master of one?

More like our medical counterparts, we could lose our “Jack of all trades” status and end up being highly specialised instead, which does, of course, have its advantages, but leaves those of us who want a bit of variety and flexibility in the dark.

For me, omnicompetence is definitely the right starting point for a veterinary degree, but I know others have very different opinions. I did, however, enjoy the brief social media debate before a communal sigh of relief.

My personal favourite April Fool this year, however, was the University of Glasgow’s announcement the university tower would be reopening as a public helter-skelter (see video below) – and I’m still disappointed it isn’t true.

April 20, 2016
Sheep worrying at lambing
Easter brings not only the endorphin rush associated with an abundance of chocolate eggs (perhaps more so for those of us who gave up goodies for Lent), but also the picturesque seasonal backdrop of spring lambs merrily bouncing about.

An abundance of public footpaths allow the wanderer to happily stroll through the British countryside. Image: antbphotos / Fotolia.

If only the reality was so idyllic…

Unfortunately, the lambing season brings with it a growing number of reports of sheep worrying and, even more concerning, reported dog attacks on young lambs.

Right of way

We are lucky to live in a community where many public footpaths allow the wanderer to happily stroll through the British countryside. However, most of these footpaths cross private land, the owners of which have very little choice in their presence and, at best, can apply for them to be moved, but not closed off completely.

The consequence of this is that, short of double fencing or restricting which parts of land are usable, farmers may be forced to keep livestock in fields that aren’t just accessible by the public, but actually form public rights of way.

There are many downsides for the landowner, but most prominently at this time of year is the susceptibility of young lambs to uncontrolled dogs.

It’s a distressing reality there are owners out there who would allow their animals to attack livestock, or lack the good sense to recognise they cannot exercise enough control over their animal to prevent something like that happening.

Keeping it legal

The results of a particularly nasty dog attack on one of my family’s sheep.

The Countryside and Right of Way Act states the public may only exercise their right to access open land if they keep dogs on a fixed lead of two metres or less near livestock.

Under the Dogs (Protection of Livestock) Act 1953, the owner of a dog worrying livestock is guilty of an offence. More recently, livestock are also covered by the Dangerous Dogs Act (1991), under which, if the dog attacks another animal, the owner can be given an unlimited fine, or sent to prison for six months. The owner may also be banned from owning dogs in the future and could be ordered to have the dog destroyed.

While there are laws supposedly protecting livestock, the reality is very difficult to police, unless the farmer catches the guilty dog or has CCTV. A farmer is also within his/her rights to shoot a dog that attacks livestock on their land.

Attacks, while the most instantaneous causes of devastation, are not the only problem. Sheep worrying earlier in gestation can also cause abortion, ultimately at a loss to the farmer.

Encouraging responsibility

Raising awareness within the veterinary and farming community would be preaching to the choir, but is there more we can do, as a profession, to encourage dog owners to take responsibility? Be that keeping their dogs on a lead, obedience training or simply avoiding sheep fields at particular times of year – perhaps it is up to small animal clinicians to lead the way on this one.

Posters in practices reminding owners of the repercussions of their actions could be enough, or even an off-hand remark to an owner about being careful walking through the fields at this time of year.

References
March 30, 2016
Mega dairies: intensive farming? Or just efficient?

Delegates who participated in the farm stream at the 2016 Association of Veterinary Students (AVS) Congress in Liverpool (myself included) had a visit to a so-called “mega dairy”.

So-called “mega dairies” often receive bad press for their size.

The herd we visited had around 1,000 milkers, which seems large when compared to the UK dairy herd average of 123 (according to AHDB Dairy). Yet, in the grand scheme of things – when considering the real dairy giants in places such as the US with herds ranging up to 30,000 and the proposed 100,000 cow dairy in China – it’s questionable as to whether this farm could really even be considered “mega.”

Putting numbers aside, the real reason we were taken to the farm was to see how these large-scale, high-intensity dairy production units function.

Preconceptions versus reality

The public shudders at the words “intensive farming” and, as a vet student, I like to think I have a slightly more informed view on what that means. Saying that, I hadn’t been to a dairy farm on such a scale as this before and was pleasantly surprised by the forward-thinking approach to every aspect of dairying.

The concept behind many of the methods used on this farm is based on maximising production by reducing stress levels in the dairy cow, thereby minimising any health implications and reduction in yield. This is done by time budgeting by accounting for time she wants to spend feeding, lying down, eating, drinking and socialising. The “leftover” time is used for milking, with management tasks fitted around – i.e. pregnancy diagnosing during her time at the feed face.

Regulation and reduction

Milking is fitted around the cows’ “social” time.

Interestingly, the zero-grazing system allows for the cow to regulate her own feed intake depending on her stage of lactation. The straw-based total mixed ration fed is the same for every cow, and differences in energy requirements rely on the reduction of rumen size during late pregnancy to sufficiently reduce intake. This minimises fat cows during late lactation and drying off.

Digital motility assessing scales are used to pick up any load imbalances, which can then be addressed immediately, opposed to 2-3 weeks later, when the cow would begin to show clinical lameness. There is also emphasis on the milking parlour being a stress-free environment so the cattle can enjoy being there without the need for food bribery.

Efficiency effects

Maximising efficiency is key, not only in terms of the cow, but the unit as a whole. Water used on the farm is recycled five times by using it for drinking water, washing and filtering bedding sand from slurry. This process also allows the sand to be cleaned, dried out and reused for bedding. Large solar panels on the roofs of the open-sided housing sheds provide more than enough electricity for the whole unit, with the surplus being shipped out to the surrounding area.

Research has shown the optimum environmental temperature for a cow is much lower than perceived – this is accounted for by the huge open-sided housing buildings and ventilation system. Each detail seems to have been meticulously considered, with continual monitoring and data analysis taking place to ensure production efficiency is maximal. In the efforts to reduce antimicrobial use within the veterinary profession, the farm’s claim to have halved its use, and any veterinary involvement in the last few years, can only be applauded.

Time for change?

Efficiency measures on the farm include water recycling and solar panels (file image).

With its huge open sheds, cows bedded on a calculated depth for maximal comfort with access to feed at any time and constant monitoring for early signs of stress or ill health, while not the idealistic picture of a cow moseying around a field at her leisure, was not far off, and certainly not the grim jumped-to conclusion when it comes to intensive farming.

Public perception is always going to be a huge hurdle for farming, but perhaps we can change that through the right sort of publicity, starting with abandoning the phrase ‘intensive farming’ and all associated misconceptions, and replacing it with something like ‘efficient’ or ‘environmentally friendly’ farming, because that is exactly what it is.

March 9, 2016