A Yorkshire Vet Through the Seasons

by Julian Norton

  I pulled up in my usual parking place outside the dairy, climbed into my wellies and put on an extra layer, to protect me from the pervading damp chill of the fog. I was welcomed by Simon stomping towards me, looking agitated.

  ‘Ah, about time. I could have done with you abart an hour ago.’

  I checked my watch, although I could tell from the chill and from the fact that the fog had not lifted even slightly that it could not be late. It was exactly half past nine – the time arranged for my visit. I was taken aback. Admittedly, there had been many times when I had been late, delayed by an emergency cat with diarrhoea or a vomiting dog that had arrived without an appointment just as I was about to leave, or indeed a visit to see another batch of pneumonic calves, but today I was bang on time.

  ‘Sorry, Simon. Is there a problem?’ I tried to calm him down.

  ‘Well, not now there isn’t. But you’ll have to have a look at this poor little bloody calf before we start with the cows. I haven’t even got ’em sorted yet. What a bloody morning!’

  He marched off in the direction of the calf pens. I grabbed some kit and trotted after him, trying to get some more information as we crossed the yard.

  ‘This’, he declared, ‘is a very lucky calf. A bloody, bloody lucky calf.’

  That didn’t give me a lot to go on. I was hoping for something a bit more specific – poorly, lame, weak, not eating … being lucky didn’t help me much. However, as we reached the calf’s pen, Simon stood with his hands on his hips and explained, ‘Well, this is what happened.’

  What Simon described, with some pride, was the amazing story of a heroic rescue. I listened in astonishment, open-mouthed at times.

  ‘This calf should not have been born this morning. It was not due until next week, so I’d put its mum in the cubicle house with all the milking cows, just so she could get used to it. She’s a heifer, you see, so I thought it’d be good to let her get used to the cubicles and what not.’

  This was good practice and a good idea. First-time calving heifers had no experience of the cubicle housing shed, where the milking cows lived, so introducing them a week or so before their calving date meant they could meet the other cows and become acquainted with the ways of the milking herd gradually, before they calved and before they went into the parlour for the first time.

  ‘I came in this morning, at t’usual time, and I noticed this cow was bawling and she had some cleansing out of her back end,’ Simon explained.

  This suggested that she had calved, unexpectedly, during the night.

  ‘I looked around for a calf, ’cos I thought it was a bit odd. But there was no calf anywhere to be seen. I just could not understand it. It looked just as if she had calved while she were in the cubicles but if she had, she must have been over a week early and, well, I couldn’t see a calf anywhere. I looked and looked, but no calf. Then, eventually, I noticed another cow who was bawling even more, at the top end o’ the cubicle house, right by the end where the slurry lagoon is. I looked at the automatic scrapers and I just thought, “Shit – this calf’s been automatically scraped into the slurry lagoon,” and so I rushed, at high speed, up to the top of the cubicle house. And I opened the doors and peered into the slurry pit.’

  Automatic scrapers are a bit like windscreen wipers for the floor of a cow shed. The cows stand or lie in rows of cubicles, with passageways in between. The cubicles are designed so that when the cow passes faeces, it goes into the passage rather than onto the bedding in the cubicle, and it can then be scraped away. The automatic scraper is attached to a rail or a cable that runs along the passage and it is constantly moving back and forth, sweeping the copious semi-solid by-products of a ruminant’s digestion off the floor and into a large lagoon of slurry at the end of the building, often twenty or thirty feet deep. The system is very effective at keeping the standing areas clean because the scraper goes up and down every five or ten minutes, in contrast to the twice-daily scrape that happens if the job is done by the farmer on a little tractor with a scraper on the back. The cows learn very quickly to step over the slowly moving scraper, but a newborn calf would have no idea.

  ‘And when I opened the doors,’ exclaimed Simon, clearly reliving the moment, ‘I looked down and there was this little calf, bobbing around and trying to swim in the shit. All I could see was its poor little nose and I thought, “Bloody hell, I need to get that little calf out o’ there ’cos it’ll drown.” That’s when I realized I needed a ladder, so I rushed off to get one.’

  Simon was animated, although trying to remain as matter-of-fact as he could, under the dramatic circumstances.

  ‘I got a ladder and I put it into the slurry lagoon until it stopped going down,’ he explained. I had visions of the ladder simply sliding, effortlessly and endlessly into the thick brown pond, but apparently the slurry lagoon had a concrete bottom. Simon had helped to build it so he knew exactly how deep it was and how long his ladder needed to be.

  ‘Once it was in, I climbed down, with a rope around my neck. I hadn’t got time to get our lad or our old man to help, so if I’d have gone in too I think we’d have both been gonners. Anyway it didn’t come to that, ’cos I grabbed the calf by its nose – which was the only bit sticking out of the shit – and wrapped my rope round its neck. It was slippery as hell, because it was covered in shit, like, but I managed to get a grip with my rope and I pulled it up and out … and this is it.’

  Simon waved at a black and white-with-a-hint-of-brown Friesian heifer, which was standing in a pen with a thick dry straw bed, utterly unperturbed by her life-threatening ordeal a mere hour earlier. I checked her over and she seemed remarkably fit, all things considered.

  ‘I’ve decided to call her “Bob” even though she’s a heifer,’ remarked Simon, with a wry smile, which gave way to a massive grin. ‘’Cos she was bobbing around like a little cork!’

  I gave Bob some medication as a precaution against the range of potentially serious illness that she might now face having been submerged in slurry for several hours, but she had indeed been a very, very lucky calf. I hoped I would be meeting her in the future during one of my routine visits. I would chuckle when Simon’s list of cows for pregnancy testing had big ticks next to ‘Justine’, ‘Sarah’ and ‘Bob’. But for now there were still twenty cows to check, or twenty-five, thirty tops.

  ‘Right, now for these cows. Can yer give us a hand?’ called Simon. ‘I’ve not sorted any out yet. There’s quite a few to do. Forty, maybe fifty. We’d better get cracking.’

  Acknowledgements

  Writing Through the Seasons, as it has come to be known to me and everyone involved in its production, has been every bit as much fun as the writing of my first book, Horses, Heifers and Hairy Pigs. Pulling stories out of the back parts of my memory, fitting them together and putting them down on paper, has been another brilliant experience, very much akin to finding an old photo album and perusing its pages. I am grateful to David Riding, from MBA Literary Agents, and Louise Dixon from Michael O’Mara Books for persuading me that this venture was a good idea and that I was capable of writing such a book. You were obviously both right. Again. Thank you!

  As before, thank you to my colleagues, clients and their animals for providing me with the subject matter for this book. Without the exuberant and diverse range of clients I have worked with over my career and their quirky pets and farm animals, this book would never have been possible. As we have seen in other, more impressive books in the past, Thirsk has a plentiful supply of characters, human and animal, which have lent themselves to featuring in animal-based stories. It has been the most amazing place to practice veterinary medicine and I have been truly privileged to have had the good fortune to have worked in this amazing little market town for most of my veterinary career. The White Rose Book Cafe sits proudly in the market square, in the middle of Thirsk, and the shop has provided stalwart support for my first book and, judging by the passion and enthusiasm of its owner, Sue Lake, I imagine and hope that the same
support will come for Through the Seasons. Thank you for the help you have given already and thank you in advance for supporting this book. You have been amazing!

  I must thank Maurice Duffield, an archetypal Yorkshire farmer and cricket fanatic, for letting me have photos taken on his lovely farm for the front cover of the book. Moreover to my eldest son, Jack, for taking the jacket pictures! At just fourteen years old, he must be one of the youngest ‘professional’ photographers to take a front cover shot. On a sunny Sunday in April, we jumped at the chance to get some shots with the correct backdrop; Laura Blair, sorry you missed out – you can definitely do the cover for my next book!

  The book has been a complete family affair: as well as Jack taking the photos, my sister proofread – thank you for picking up so many typos! My mum and dad have continued to provide moral support but, specifically, thanks to my wife, Anne, for so skilfully and fastidiously editing my words. It seemed to take longer this time: I don’t know whether that’s because my first drafts were not so good, or because you became more pedantic, but I do know it is now much better than the version that I first knocked out. And thank you to Archie, my youngest son, for being an inspiration to me every day.

  List of Illustrations

  1. Nowadays, more of our time on the farm is spent looking after animals such as goats or alpacas. This Angora goat, kept for its fleece, is suffering from a badly broken leg. The fracture healed very well after the application of a fibreglass cast.

  2. This swan had been struggling to eat. Endoscopy allows us to look for things stuck down the throat. In this case I’m checking for fishing line.

  3. ‘Hal’, the Mangalitza boar, had just arrived from Holland. New breeding stock of this rare breed is hard to find. His arrival brought much-needed new genetics to the herd.

  4. Much of a large animal vet’s time is spent behind the back end of a cow. In this case I am palpating inside the rectum to feel if the cow is pregnant. It’s a standard job at the end of autumn.

  5. An early morning call, in the depths of winter, to help my young colleague Katy with a tough calving. The calf was a breech and it needed to be manipulated so it could be calved. It was an easy one for me, because all that was needed was some gentle reassurance and a bit of guidance. Katy is a very capable vet!

  6. Penny was an amazing dog and extremely lucky. She looks very sorry for herself after the operation that took me into the small hours of the morning, but what a difference by the end of the summer!

  7. Archie, the miniature Mediterranean donkey, was a character. He had a retained testicle, which needed to be removed. About the same size as a Labrador, he made heads turn in the waiting room of my practice. The anaesthetic and surgery was performed on the floor. Sarah, my colleague who is very good with equine work, performed the operation.

  8. My very first alpaca caesarian was photographed by farmer Linda McDonald, a keen photographer and a good friend. Hers was the first farm in the area to get alpacas so it was a steep learning curve for everyone. The mother and baby cria did very well and I followed the progress of them both for many years.

  9. This is one of the first pictures of me with the animals that would become such a big part of my life. My Grandfather, Jack Taylor, shows me his best sow. It’s hard to tell what I think of it, but I do have many memories of my first experiences with animals.

  10. Posing with a cute lamb for a photo shoot. Who would have thought I would ever be doing this?

  11. Luna, and Sparkle and Shine: My family’s collection of small and furry pets. They are wonderful little creatures and all get along brilliantly.

  12. Martin Jackson has become a great friend over the last few years and he has a small herd of dairy shorthorn cattle. His aim is to follow in his uncle’s footsteps and win the top prize at the Great Yorkshire Show. It wasn’t to be this particular year, but he is, quite rightly, very proud of his lovely cow.

  13. My colleague Peter, with whom I have had some great experiences, is in the wrong place at the wrong time. A coughing cow with loose faeces is a dangerous combination. Peter must have either been out of practise, or too slow to get out of the way!

  14. One of my all time favourite places, Gormire, with Whitestonecliffe behind. It is just as beautiful in midwinter as at any other time of the year and it is always so peaceful and tranquil.

  15. Kneepads the goat was always in trouble. You can just tell it from his mischievous expression!

  16. A perfect way to start a Sunday on call! The calf was way too big for this heifer and she needed a caesarian. Perfect facilities made this a straightforward procedure. The calf was on its feet before I left and I was home in time for breakfast.

  17. The end of a hard morning castrating bulls in the heat of midsummer. Being wrapped up in plastic is not great when it is very hot. My shirt was sopping wet with sweat and the blood and antibiotic spray has left plenty of marks – at least I escaped without any injuries!

  18. ‘Lamby’ was one of my most challenging cases, suffering from a terrible ruptured rectal prolapse. I was sure she wouldn’t survive the emergency surgery, but sure enough, this is her three months later at her farm in Dewsbury.

  19. A baby piglet called Tiny Tim receiving a health check. This one is a rare swallowbelly Mangalitza piglet and proves to be very healthy.

  20. On a return visit to a smallholding to check up on a case, the camera crew is never far away. The camera is quickly put down to make space for cuddling baby piglets. These are Elsie’s babies: the result of Chris and my exploits earlier that summer. I felt like a proud father when I came to visit.

  21. This gyrfalcon was an unusual visitor to my evening clinic. It is the largest of the falcon species and beautiful to see at close quarters. This one needs nothing more complicated than to have a microchip implanted. Some days we do literally see All Creatures Great and Small.

  22. It’s hard to beat checking over young kittens. Even though these two inquisitive creatures are from the same litter, it is amazing how different they both look.

  1. Nowadays, more of our time on the farm is spent looking after animals such as goats or alpacas. This Angora goat, kept for its fleece, is suffering from a badly broken leg. The fracture healed very well after the application of a fibreglass cast.

  2. This swan had been struggling to eat. Endoscopy allows us to look for things stuck down the throat. In this case I’m checking for fishing line.

  3. ‘Hal’, the Mangalitza boar, had just arrived from Holland. New breeding stock of this rare breed is hard to find. His arrival brought much-needed new genetics to the herd.

  4. Much of a large animal vet’s time is spent behind the back end of a cow. In this case I am palpating inside the rectum to feel if the cow is pregnant. It’s a standard job at the end of autumn.

  5. An early morning call, in the depths of winter, to help my young colleague Katy with a tough calving. The calf was a breech and it needed to be manipulated so it could be calved. It was an easy one for me, because all that was needed was some gentle reassurance and a bit of guidance. Katy is a very capable vet!

  6. Penny was an amazing dog and extremely lucky. She looks very sorry for herself after the operation that took me into the small hours of the morning, but what a difference by the end of the summer!

  7. Archie, the miniature Mediterranean donkey, was a character. He had a retained testicle, which needed to be removed. About the same size as a Labrador, he made heads turn in the waiting room of my practice. The anaesthetic and surgery was performed on the floor. Sarah, my colleague who is very good with equine work, performed the operation.

  8. My very first alpaca caesarian was photographed by farmer Linda McDonald, a keen photographer and a good friend. Hers was the first farm in the area to get alpacas so it was a steep learning curve for everyone. The mother and baby cria did very well and I followed the progress of them both for many years.

  9. This is one of the first pictures of me with the animals that would become such a big part of my li
fe. My Grandfather, Jack Taylor, shows me his best sow. It’s hard to tell what I think of it, but I do have many memories of my first experiences with animals.

  10. Posing with a cute lamb for a photo shoot. Who would have thought I would ever be doing this?

  11. Luna, and Sparkle and Shine: My family’s collection of small and furry pets. They are wonderful little creatures and all get along brilliantly.

  12. Martin Jackson has become a great friend over the last few years and he has a small herd of dairy shorthorn cattle. His aim is to follow in his uncle’s footsteps and win the top prize at the Great Yorkshire Show. It wasn’t to be this particular year, but he is, quite rightly, very proud of his lovely cow.

  13. My colleague Peter, with whom I have had some great experiences, is in the wrong place at the wrong time. A coughing cow with loose faeces is a dangerous combination. Peter must have either been out of practise, or too slow to get out of the way!

  14. One of my all time favourite places, Gormire, with Whitestonecliffe behind. It is just as beautiful in midwinter as at any other time of the year and it is always so peaceful and tranquil.

  15. Kneepads the goat was always in trouble. You can just tell it from his mischievous expression!

  16. A perfect way to start a Sunday on call! The calf was way too big for this heifer and she needed a caesarian. Perfect facilities made this a straightforward procedure. The calf was on its feet before I left and I was home in time for breakfast.