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Category: Student blogs

  • Online learning vs the university experience

    Online learning vs the university experience

    With education secretary Gavin Williamson recently coming forward to suggest that universities should reduce their fees if they choose not to return to face-to-face teaching, the question is being asked once again if online teaching can really hold its own against the real thing?

    Loneliness

    One of the main trials of the vet course has always been its difficulty. It’s hard, both academically and at times emotionally (and, when you’re called upon to tip a sheep, sometimes physically), there’s no getting away from that.

    Online learning doesn’t reduce the course’s difficulty, but it does have the potential to exacerbate it, especially for those with attention deficit disorders who benefit from a more tangible learning environment.

    The online platform is also unable to replicate that feeling of camaraderie you get from the live experience. If you can see your coursemates struggling on a particular topic you are also struggling with, then at least you’re reminded that you’re all in the same boat; but when you’re struggling to comprehend a lecture in your room by yourself – day in, day out – it can be easy to feel that maybe you’re the only one having trouble, and that you’re falling behind the rest of the herd.

    The little things

    All vet students and new grads will still remember the horrors of 9am lectures. Let’s be honest, nobody actively looked forward to them – especially, I’m sure, my fellow Bristol students, for whom struggling your way up one of the many formidable hills in gale force winds and torrential rain was a rite of passage.

    Saying that, you always end up missing what you don’t have, and while a classroom of shivering 20-somethings with 150 coats attempting to dry on the one single lecture hall radiator may not sound like the epitome of a good time, it’s just one of the little things that builds a person’s university experience.

    There will be highs and lows, good days and bad days that all make up the tapestry of academic life. While some may prefer to listen to recorded lectures in bed, I think being given the choice is inherently necessary.

    Isolation

    There are also an often-unheard body of students, for whom those lectures represented the only opportunity to interact with people and have space to learn. Sadly, not everyone at university has a living situation that supports their learning, whether it’s a disruptive home life, unreliable Wi-Fi, or any other number of things.

    I don’t think this is something that universities fully take into account, and I feel especially sorry for international students paying incredibly high fees while entirely unable to explore their new surroundings or get the experience they were advertised. For those who study far from their homes and families, online learning has the potential to be incredibly isolating. I know my own mental health has certainly suffered as a result, and I’m sure I’m not alone.

    Screens, screens, screens

    When I was little, my mother used to tell me that if I stared at a screen for too long my eyes would turn square, and although I’ve since dismissed it as a method to get me to tidy my room instead of watching Power Rangers, I now fear it may be true…

    I know that may sound a little “six of one, half a dozen of the other” seeing that in-person lectures use projectors and laptops as well, but I truly believe online learning massively ramps up your screen time. Even in 3-hour long lecture blocks, we would still be given short breaks between lecturers, you’d turn to talk to your friends and maybe focus more on the lecturer than the words on the slides.

    When your only way to learn is via your laptop, and your only way to recharge after those lectures is also your laptop (Netflix, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and so on), you could easily pull a nine-hour shift sharing predominantly at a screen. Excessive screentime has been linked to postural-injuries, back and neck pain, negative impacts on sleep and emotional states, eye strain and migraines.

    Imperfect fit

    Obviously, everyone’s experience of the past two years has been unique and, as such, I’ve found that my fellow students tend to have mixed opinions of online teaching platforms or “blended learning” (when the majority of your work is done online, but augmented with a smattering of in-person teaching, perhaps once a month).

    Some of my cohort really enjoy having all of our lectures at the touch of a button, while others have struggled with the lack of contact with their peers and mustering daily motivation.

    Personally, I can see both sides of the coin, but I think it needs to be accepted that while there are merits to both the new and old system, the two are simply not comparable – and like every teaching system, neither are a perfect fit for every student.

  • The pen is mightier than the scalpel

    The pen is mightier than the scalpel

    For some, my past A-level choices of biology, chemistry and English literature may seem an odd mixture.

    At first glance, the arts and the sciences don’t seem go hand in hand, and are often viewed as polar opposites. I even remember being asked during one of my veterinary interviews if my decision to study English lit was an indication that I valued the arts above the sciences…

    As someone who had endured a considerable wealth of hours endeavouring to make it into vet school (and was, in fact, at an interview for vet school), it took me a couple of blinks before I could bring myself to answer that question.

    Words, words, words

    Since then, I am still yet to find another vet student or graduated vet who took English as their third A-level choice – perhaps because, until recently, most vet schools wouldn’t accept anything other than physics, maths or maybe economics at a push.

    With three years of the vet course down, and a master’s dissertation currently weighing on my shoulders, this truly baffles me, given that writing is such an inherent part of the scientific process.

    Whether it’s animal welfare, physiology, psychology or behaviour, almost everything we know and practice today can be attributed to some budding young scientist who did the research, wrote it up very eloquently, and had other scientists read over it diligently before they decided to write about it, too (otherwise known as a peer review).

    Similar principles

    Today, it does not matter how big of a breakthrough you make; if your grammar isn’t on point, nobody is going to publish it and your discovery may well fall on deaf ears. If you don’t know at least five different words for “furthermore” and can’t tell your colons from your semi-colons then are you even a scientist?

    I have personally always loved writing (couldn’t you tell?) and being able to combine my affinities for that with veterinary medicine sometimes feels a bit too good to be true.

    I also feel incredibly grateful for the skills my background in English have taught me. I may no longer be comparing the works of Mary Shelley and Thomas Hardy, but strangely, the same principles can be applied to literature reviews and grant proposals.

    Do what you love

    I would strongly encourage any wannabe vets not to shy away from exploring interests outside of the sciences, if that’s what you really enjoy.

    For me, an artier A-level was a really useful way to switch off the science part of my brain and recharge after a day of balancing equations – almost like my right and left brain taking turns at the wheel while the other had a little lie down.

    And who knows, if more medical schools required an A at English A-level, doctors might be know for better handwriting.

     

  • Hot dogs belong on a barbecue, not in the car

    Hot dogs belong on a barbecue, not in the car

    We’ve all heard horror stories of dogs left in hot cars by their owners; it’s an issue that comes around every year like the warnings of dangers of chocolate at Easter and mistletoe in December.

    Luckily, I’ve never seen a case brought into practice or even witnessed a dog shut into a car on a hot day – until this week.

    While shopping, I noticed a small Westie lying rather forlornly in the back of a parked car. The windows were cracked and it was a cloudy day, so the owners had obviously assumed popping into the shop for however long they’d intended would do their animal no harm. Not surprisingly, I was immediately concerned.

    Getting hotter

    Despite the clouds it was a hot day and muggy – and as it was only 11 in the morning, the temperature was only going to rise. No water had been left for the dog (either out of laziness or for fear that it would be knocked over), and although I could tell he was alert, he moved from seat to seat, clearly agitated and anxious.

    I’d hope the average passer-by would intercede, but being a veterinary student with all the worst-case scenarios scarred permanently into my brain, I didn’t feel right leaving it.

    The situation didn’t seem urgent enough to warrant bashing the windows in – especially as I had no idea if the owner was just around the corner. Instead, I checked with the shop the car park belonged to, and although it didn’t have a tannoy system they thanked me, took down the registration number of the car in question and promised to watch diligently until the owner returned.

    Legislation lacking

    Since then I have been brushing up the laws in the UK regarding leaving animals in cars, and although it is not illegal to leave a dog in a car (regardless of the temperature, or the windows being rolled up or down), the owner may be prosecuted if anything happens to the animal in that car.

    Given the number of dogs that die in hot cars, or shortly after being left in one every year, I think that this legislation needs to be reviewed. If you wouldn’t leave a child in a car unattended, why leave an animal that is arguably even more vulnerable?

    What to do?

    For anyone who finds themselves in the position I was – and there’s nobody around to help, the animal seems distressed or in danger, or you simply don’t know what to do – please know you are absolutely within your rights to call 999 and contact the emergency services. The best case scenario will be that the animal is absolutely fine and no intervention is needed – the worst case scenario is far, far worse.

    Try to check how long the car has been there by looking for parking tickets. If you’re unsure whether a dog is suffering within a hot car, look for signs of heatstroke/hyperthermia such as heavy panting or drooling, lethargy, collapse or vomiting.

    More advice can be found on the RSPCA or PDSA websites, and if in doubt, the RSPCA hotline (0300 1234 999) is available for advice.

  • Raking it in?

    Raking it in?

    The assumption is often made that many people get into the veterinary industry for the money. In fact, it’s always been a widely held public view that vets are raking it in.

    This is, perhaps, due to a combination of the recognised difficulty of the job, seemingly extortionate vets’ bills and a propensity for Range Rovers.

    Whatever the cause, this view was made all the more apparent on the 18 May edition of Good Morning Britain.

    Concerns about cost

    The original topic of debate – “Should there be an NHS for pets?” – sparked a subsequent debate into the pricing of veterinary care, with strong implications being made that pricing in the veterinary industry is “unregulated” and, therefore, unnecessarily high and perhaps even greedy?

    As an outsider looking in, faced with an objectionably large bill for what you thought would only be a routine check-up, I can see how it’s easy to misunderstand where all that money can go, except into the pockets of the vets themselves – and yet this is a fallacy.

    Clients just don’t understand

    I feel an understandable nationwide misunderstanding exists of the true value of what we consider to be “routine” medical goods and services.

    According to an NHS calculator, without health care, the price of a hospital child delivery would range from £2,500 to £5,000, depending on any complications. In the US, a single doctor’s consultation can cost you upwards of $200 (£141), with the average American spending more than $10,000 (£7,000) in health care a year as of 2016.

    There’s no denying that we take human medical care for granted, so there’s little surprise when the cost of animal medical care puts our clients in need of a pacemaker (free of charge).

    In it for the money

    One of the very first things I learned about veterinary medicine – as I sat, rather excitedly, in a school-organised lecture given by the head vet of a local practice to a room of young, naive wannabe vets – was that if we were thinking of getting into the career for the money, we should change tack now, as we would be sorely disappointed.

    I know I am luckier, now than ever before, to have the luxury of both job and financial security when I leave university, but it needs to be said that neither myself, nor any vet student I have ever encountered, got into this business for the money.

    Even if we had, I think it would be fair to call us fools, as there must surely be an easier way to make money than five years of student housing, student loans, exams and poop scooping.

    Initial outgoings

    I think it also needs to be said that the phrase “it takes money to make money” could indeed be applied very aptly to the veterinary degree. A growing awareness exists of the potential accessibility imbalance when it comes to the vet course, depending on background, social class, funding and so on.

    It’s no secret to those on the inside that getting into, and through, vet school can insure some serious dents in your wallet, and those of your parents (sorry parents); between textbooks, steel toe-capped wellingtons, petrol miles, Airbnbs for long-distance placements and stethoscopes (the most expensive necklace you will ever own), you are looking at a sizeable sum before you even get to student loans.

    And that’s without considering being able to afford the time off work to travel to open days and interviews in the first place, with the assumption that you have a supportive network of family who have the money to fund your ambitions before you’ve even got your foot in the door…

    An NHS for pets?

    The topic of an NHS for pets aside, I think a great deal needs to be done to help us recognise the true privilege that is our human NHS, and the true value of the service given by all medical professionals.

  • Impostor syndrome: a pandemic among vet students

    Impostor syndrome: a pandemic among vet students

    The nature of the vet course is inherently competitive, with the odds stacked against you from the very beginning.

    During our A-levels we are told that only 1 out of every 5 to 10 applicants make it to vet school, and that you’re lucky to get a single interview or offer (any more than that is just greedy).

    In university, when students on other courses are totalling up their grades to calculate if they are getting 1sts or 2:1s, vets are given a pass mark of 50%, which has the paradoxical effect of making it seem like you should be sailing through the course when, in actual fact, the bar is set so low because – yes – it really is that hard.

    Negative feelings

    The majority of vets and vet students, I am sure, can report to experiencing some form of impostor syndrome at some point in their careers – if not throughout.

    Impostor syndrome is the feeling you are not as bright, or competent, or worthy of where you are in life as everyone around you thinks you are. It can be a toxic, self-deprecating and sometimes debilitating sensation, making you feel entirely alone when really everyone around you is most likely in exactly the same boat.

    No motivation

    From a little of my own experience, and through speaking to others in the field, I know this feeling has only grown stronger among my peers as a result of the coronavirus pandemic.

    After almost a year of online learning, open book exams and, in some cases, a complete lack of the hands-on practice and subsequent reassurance we should all be receiving right now, it’s only natural things don’t feel quite right.

    No motivation. Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

    Being cooped up all day, and going long periods of time without seeing friends and loved ones, certainly doesn’t inspire productivity, and it can be hard to stay motivated with nothing to look forward to on the horizon – whether that’s a long holiday in the sun or just a nice catch-up with your mates down the pub at the end of the week.

    Under pressure

    After a year of lockdowns with nothing else to do, I think it’s all too easy to put too much pressure on yourself to accomplish everything because, look, you’ve never had this much free time before!

    I’ve heard from lots of students who think – especially due to last year’s open book exams – that they “don’t deserve to be here“; that they haven’t worked as hard as they could have, or should have; that they’ve dropped the standard, so to speak.

    But that’s the thing, even if it doesn’t feel like you’re working as hard as your old self used to in “the before world of February 2020 and earlier”, that’s because this is a completely different kind of work.

    Marathon effort

    It’s so much easier to sit down and do a day’s work with no distractions when the rest of your life is stable, but when it’s not, even the little things can become difficult – and that’s okay.

    Take marathon runners, for example: capable of running for miles and miles, so of course, that first mile, or even the first 10, probably feel like nothing (as a max 10km runner I wouldn’t know personally, but I can assume).

    That 25th mile, though – when they’ve already come so far, they’re worn out and their energy reserves are entirely depleted – is probably the hardest one of all. It’s likely a challenge to just put one foot in front of the other. It’s going to feel like they’re working 1,000 times harder than they had to for that first mile, even though the distance hasn’t changed – the conditions have.

    Photo by Tembela Bohle from Pexels

    Third and final (?) leg

    As the third lockdown trickled ever so slowly onwards, I think everyone felt like they were just trying to keep up on what they hope is going to be the last leg of this unprecedented journey.

    For marathon runners at least, they know how long that run is going to be, so they can go all out on that final sprint. In lockdown terms, though, we don’t really know when this race is going to be over (despite the Government’s road map out of lockdown) – and that makes it okay to not feel like you have to give it your all every single day, but leave some in the tank so you can keep going the next day and the next.

    No shame

    What I’m trying to say (through some very dodgy metaphors) is that we’ve all come so far, and there is no shame in taking extra days off, or extra rest breaks; that if you passed an exam or a year at vet school – open books or not – you deserved that pass.

    It was probably one of the hardest exams you ever had to take, at the dawn of a global pandemic when no one knew up from down or left from right.

    We all need to be proud of ourselves for whatever we’ve achieved over the past 12 months, even if that’s just making it through and being there for each other.

  • The other side of the consult table, part 2

    The other side of the consult table, part 2

    Never have I seen my cat so happy as the days post-operation when she was flying high on pain relief (I personally remember being quite grumpy the days after I had a tooth removed, but Bluebell seemed entirely unphased), but that doesn’t mean bringing an animal home from an operation is plain sailing.

    The initial internal struggle of a vet student handing their beloved pet over to fellow vets is shortly followed by the hurdles of “medication dose mathematics” and valiant attempts to get said pet to ingest said medication.

    I once thought myself quite adept in the arts of pill-giving when Bluebell was on a course of steroids, up until the day when she’d had enough and spat it back out directly into my jacket pocket.

    However, once these hurdles have been mastered, teaching my parents to do the same can be a whole other ball game…

    A little knowledge goes a long way

    I think having even a little veterinary background can be a useful thing when you bring a pet back home from something big like this. You are reassured by the knowledge of what to expect and what can be counted as “normal”.

    Whether it’s coming downstairs to a very full litter tray in the morning – as was my poor mother’s experience – or dealing with some temporary behavioural changes, a reduced appetite, sleepiness or cleaning up after the occasional accident.

    Forbearance

    It’s all part of the process. No human wakes up right as rain the day after a big procedure, and when you’re only small, even a minor operation can be a huge ordeal. As with most things, patience is the key.

    I do feel quite sorry for the animals who undergo to the trauma of an operation and are then forced to return to the scene of the crime a week later in the guise of a “check-up”.

    But, thankfully, when we bundled Bluebell bottom-first into her carrier for the second time, all was well.

    Fang facts

    In fact, we learned she is managing to lose not only weight – which, since she’s always been a bit of a chonker, came as a nice surprise – but teeth!

    Only one in the actual teeth clean however – apparently another five have been lost at some point in her life, with all of us being entirely none the wiser!

    Luckily, I think the fact that she is still a chonker is evidence enough that losing those teeth didn’t phase her in the slightest.

  • The other side of the consult table, part 1

    The other side of the consult table, part 1

    There comes a time when even doctors and nurses have to make a visit to their local GP (perhaps somewhat begrudgingly), and I wonder if that evokes a similar feeling to when veterinary professionals take their own pets into an appointment?

    My own cat is going in to get her teeth cleaned in a matter of days, and although it is by no means her first trip to the vets, the act of taking her in feels slightly more surreal to me now than it did before I began my training and gained a more similar perspective to that of the vet or vet nurse behind the consult table.

    Familiar faces

    I’ve volunteered at my local practice for years and know the more senior members of staff rather well, but a newer face will obviously ask me the standard check-up questions and explain things the way they would with any other owner.

    To be honest, I never know whether to pretend it’s all new to me or admit I’m a third year vet student; I worry it sounds a bit off to just come out with it without being prompted – a bit like meeting Gordon Ramsay and blurting out that you, too, own several cook books and make a mean Shepherd’s pie.

    The hardest part

    The last time my cat, Bluebell had to undergo an operation I unfortunately had classes, and although the vet in question knew me well and offered to let me watch, I wasn’t able to – and with a small twist of irony, now that I am free as a bird, the logistics of COVID mean that I must once again sit this one out.

    Along with being the unfortunate messenger of the truly unknowable cost of a procedure to your parents (whose eyes widen at even your lowest estimates, though you try to explain it’s best to get it out of the way when she’s young and healthy), knowing the risks is probably one of the hard parts of being any medical professional – from hearing someone cough, and unconsciously jumping to the worst-case scenarios, to taking your pet in for routine surgery with the anaesthesia mortality statistics circa 2018 committed to memory.

    Not in control

    As ever, the advice you’d give to someone else never has quite the same effect when you try telling it to yourself, and when you’ve experienced the position of the person “in the driver’s seat”, so to speak, it can be hard to surrender control.

    COVID allowing, I would like to be in that operating room myself – and not just because it would be the first lot of EMS I’ve managed to wangle in the past nine months, but because, even if you are distanced from the world of veterinary medicine for any length of time, it never distances itself from you.

  • Could COVID-19 close the door to the veterinary course?

    Could COVID-19 close the door to the veterinary course?

    It has long been a fear – among those inside the profession and outside – that university places to study veterinary medicine are not as accessible as they should be.

    There is a perception the course, if not the vocation, is slightly elitist – not helped by the impression of most clients that the medical bills they are unaccustomed to paying for themselves mean vets must be absolutely rolling in it.

    I certainly think of myself as extraordinarily lucky to have snagged one of the over-subscribed university places four years ago. I had parents who could afford the time and who were willing to drive me to various EMS placements, and I lived in close proximity to friendly veterinary practices with the patience to have me shadowing them every week.

    Resources

    I also went to a school with the resources to support me through my studies and had a stable and happy home life, which gave me the secure space I needed to revise and prepare for interviews. I even had a grandmother willing and able to drop everything to fly to the other end of the UK for my Edinburgh interview at pretty much last minute’s notice.

    Veterinary medicine is an incredibly competitive, and sometimes arduous, application process, and even students with all the money, time, and educational and familial support in the world struggle to make it in.

    I can only imagine how the added pressure of COVID-19 could have made this process so much harder and reduced its accessibility even further.

    Striking a toll…

    When you combine the mental health pandemic secondary to the coronavirus pandemic with the mental health crisis affecting medical students at every stage of their training – even as early as pre-interview – it becomes apparent how striking a toll this year may have had on some would-be vets.

    Money can also, unfortunately, be a crucial factor when applying to any university position. With the financial burden impressed on countless families since the start of 2020 – and with national unemployment sky-rocketing – the door to further education may be closing to many more.

    Parents worrying about job losses and money problems may be less able to support a child through the application process, and those students coming from complicated or disruptive households have not had the option to take their studies elsewhere – namely a café or school library.

    Tears in tiers

    Those students who have remained in Tier 3 for the majority of the year will have been hit harder by these factors than those in lower tiers.

    Concerns have also risen for international students and maintaining diversity in the course. Overseas vets and vet students are invaluable in many facets of veterinary medicine – for example, they make up a large proportion of vets working in food safety and public health.

    I think it’s important that universities consider an application from every angle and consider the less obvious setbacks brought about by COVID-19 that are perhaps being over-looked. I want the veterinary community to be diverse and self-supporting, and this starts at the very beginning.

  • In the pink

    In the pink

    I can probably count the number of blood samples I’ve taken to date on a single hand.

    That does sound pitiful, I know, but please hold off on any judgement as I was unfortunate enough this year to have a total of 10 weeks’ work experience cancelled due to the recent pandemic.

    Like everyone else, I suppose, I saw 2020 panning out a lot differently as I began it… but from dark clouds come silver linings, and I am now proud to say that one of my startlingly few blood samples was drawn earlier this month from a flamingo.

    Going to the zoo, zoo, zoo

    My cohort is probably luckier than most, as the large majority of our learning is conducted online, with the exception of the occasional in-person presentation, practical or day’s work at Bristol Zoo Gardens.

    flamingo
    Eleanor takes bloods from a flamingo, under the close supervision of a zoo vet / Bristol lecturer.

    However, I’ll be candid and say the involvement of the local zoo in the running of my masters was the thing that really drew me in the most, the money and time being a small consequence if I had the chance to work alongside those who were living my dream – a dream I’d harboured for more than a decade and a half.

    And while I’m sure the thrill of my day’s work with those lucky individuals will fade (though it hasn’t yet), I think that short window spent working with the most amazing creatures and talented professionals almost makes up for all the time lost this summer.

    A very different experience

    It’s safe to say that working with wildlife versus small domestic animals is an entirely different ball game. For example, I have a friend who had a week’s EMS in a practice specialising in wildlife and spent most of the first day chasing a deer around a local park.

    Even if you are lucky enough to have the wild animal behind closed doors and easily accessible, or even if it’s already restrained or half-tranquilised, it’s astonishing how difficult a simple routine check-up and x-ray can become.

    It can take time to safely capture and restrain an animal, especially one as long and ungainly as a flamingo (don’t let the croquet scene in Alice in Wonderland fool you). Add this to the time taken to anaesthetise it, draw bloods, run checks, top up its fluids, take several x-rays from an array of angles – all while maintaining COVID-19 regulations on top of pre-existing health and safety considerations. It was no wonder my friend and I had about five minutes to wolf down our lunch before running off to the afternoon’s activities.

    Meal for none

    As a person who loves their food, it is with great surprise that I say I have never been so happy to skip a meal in all my life. I think I would have quite happily gone on working through until midnight, had government COVID-19 policy not mandated we leave the zoo by 5pm. I honestly didn’t want to leave, but I walked away with a strong respect for all of the staff working there on a daily basis.

    Working as a vet requires a sack full of patience at the best of times, but working with wild animals brings the job to another level. Not only do you strike the balance every day between interfering too much or too little, no other medical professional has to work with patients every day who are so unwanting of your help and will stop at nothing to get away.

    I do think that if doctors and nurses had to use bait to draw their patients in, bar the practice doors, and then try to grab them one by one with a very large net, medicine courses might not be quite so over-subscribed.

  • Research the change you want to see in the world

    Research the change you want to see in the world

    As a good 60% of my masters is research based, there will come a time, all too soon, when I must decide definitively what avenue of research I want to explore.

    We don’t have much time to touch upon research or develop our skills in the area on the vet course due to the huge level of content we need to consume throughout the five years, but those skills are both highly transferable and infinitely invaluable in the field of exotics and conservation.

    Choices, choices…

    I’ve been looking forward to the research aspect of this course for the best part of the last six months but it’s shocking just how difficult it is to pick a single topic to dedicate yourself to.

    Topics include:

    • one health
    • immunology
    • genetics
    • behaviour
    • marine biology
    • climate change
    • wildlife
    • domestic animal studies

    …the list is quite something.

    Making your mark

    What it all boils down to though, is what really sparks an interest in you? What questions do you want the answers to? What species hold a special place in your heart, and what field do you want to expand your knowledge in?

    For me, the question I’ve begun to ask myself is: what is the change I want to help bring about?

    As a veterinary professional you can’t always let yourself be swayed by issues of the heart, yet there are many aspects of animal welfare, captivity and treatment that make this far easier said than done.

    The trouble is that we live in a world of law and legislation and attempting to enact change driven purely by an emotional standpoint will get you nowhere. You cannot simply request for laws to be changed or regulations to be put in place because it’s “the right thing to do”. You must scientifically enforce your argument, and that means peer reviewed, tried and tested research.

    Agent for change

    It wasn’t until 2012 that battery farmed eggs were outlawed in the UK, and only in 2016 did SeaWorld – a multi-million dollar entertainment enterprise – pledge to end their removal of Orcas from the wild and their captive breeding programme.

    Some might argue that these changes are on completely different levels and have different value, but neither would have been brought about without the tireless work of countless dedicated professionals who took the time to bring facts together into a case that changed laws that had been around for decades.

    It’s a long old process, the documentary Blackfish (which inarguably had a hand in the decline in SeaWorld’s popularity) took months to produce, and it took an additional three years after it’s release for it’s impacts to come to fruition. With this in mind, I wonder just how much change I’m really capable of with my three-month research project – which, due to COVID-19, is almost certainly set to be entirely desk-based.

    Little by little

    I believe even the small changes are important; even those made by collecting data and typing up hypotheses and conclusions from home – even if you don’t actually get to spend any time working with the animal whose quality of life you’re trying to improve.

    I have a particular interest in stereotypies – which, for those not in the know, are repetitive movements, sounds or behaviours displayed by captive animals due to frustration or a lack of mental or social stimulation. They are the direct consequence of human intervention in their natural behaviours, and ever since learning about them in the first year of the vet course the topic has stayed with me.

    If I’m lucky enough to explore this field at the start of next year I’ll be grateful for any minor contribution I can make to the far too-small pool of research that is thankfully starting to grow.