All posts by Sarah McGurk

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About Sarah McGurk

I am a veterinary surgeon and author, living and working in Scotland with my lovely Kooiker Triar.

TB, Cairn Holy and a Tasty Tart

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Andrew and I were in Yorkshire last weekend, which feels like a lifetime ago, but it was a lovely warm day on Saturday and we went on an ice cream hunt, which on the face of it wasn’t very successful. The firstly place we went to was styled like an American Diner, but it was so noisy and there were so many children leaping about that we turned and walked back out. The next place we tried, after consulting the Oracle of Google Maps was a small, village shop, but the only parking we found was in a field, which some canny farmer had mown and was charging £10 per day to enter.

We ended up doing a big circle back to Grassington, where fortunately, we bought a cone, but it wasn’t quite the ice-cream parlour experience we’d been searching for! Grassington is very pretty though and the drive back was too.

On Tuesday afternoon, I met up with some women I met on social media. We’d been chatting online and they were part of a women’s group I wanted to join, so we met for a coffee. I’ve been worried about Andrew being here for the summer with nothing to do, and to my delight, it turns out one of the women owns a small media company in the area. She does some work with young people, so later this morning, Andrew has been invited to a scriptwriting workshop in a cafe in town. He’s read the script they’ll be working on and has some ideas, so hopefully he will enjoy it. If Andrew wants to work in film, the most difficult part might well be finding a way in, so any experience and contacts he can form are a good thing.

I was through in Stranraer again this week, on one of my TB farm cases. We’re still waiting to see if TB is confirmed, but it’s looking more likely and so my Veterinary Advisor and I went to the farm to assess the boundaries and history of animal movements on and off the farm. If TB is confirmed, we will need to move quickly to start tracing where it might have come from and where it could have spread to, so now we are prepared to move to that stage without delay.

I was driving back to Dumfries, when I found myself in a queue of traffic. It’s a fairly difficult road for overtaking long queues, and this one was particularly frustrating as it was going slowly round the bends and speeding up for the straight parts. Seeing a sign for “Holy Cairn” I made a snap decision that this might be a good moment to go and explore one of the historic monuments that are scattered along the A75.

This is a hit and miss activity. Sometimes you can follow side roads for miles and find nothing, or you do arrive, only to find you’re looking at two stones on a hillside. This time, however, I found a good parking space and went through a small gate to find what looked initially like a circle of standing stones…

… but which on closer inspection, had been the spectacular entrance to a chambered cairn.

There was an information block in the corner of the enclosure, which told me a little bit about the cairn and its excavation, but the best thing it told me was that there was another cairn, further up the hill. I followed the track up, to find another, rather different cairn. The entrance to this one was a little less spectacular, but it was sited in such a beautiful place that I could only stand and gaze.

I read the information here too. Long-time readers might remember my trip to Stonehenge where I was amazed to discover that animal herders came down from Scotland to celebrate the winter solstice. I found myself wondering whether the people who used these cairns were among those who made that trip.

The plaque told me the cairns dated from 4000 BC. When I looked up Stonehenge later, it is thought to have been started in 3000BC, so these beautiful cairns were in use a thousand years before Stonehenge was begun. As ever, I felt the wonderful calm feeling that I always get when viewing something ancient or ageless. It’s always a wonderful reminder of how short and insignificant my life is in the grand scheme of things.

And finally, I had been gradually gaining weight, ever since I moved to Arctic Norway. Winter hibernation is all very well, but when winter lasts from October to May, it’s a large chunk of the year to take a break from walking, which was something I had done to keep myself healthy for years. I had hoped to break the bad habits when I came back to Scotland, but there is far too much temptation and I haven’t lost anything at all.

I asked at my GP clinic for help and they have signed me up for six months on an app called Second Nature. It tells me it’s going to help me break my bad habits and form some new and healthier ones, so I will be starting that on Monday. My main hope is to lose enough weight so I can start to go up hills again without creaking to a standstill within a few yards. There’s no weighing and measuring foods or calorie counting, which is good as I can never be bothered with all that. I’m also glad they didn’t offer me drugs. I want to improve my lifestyle, so hopefully this will help. I’ll let you know how it goes!

Of course, I am back in Scotland, and true to form, my colleagues in Stranraer, on hearing this, convinced me that it was essential that I should make the most of the last few days before I began, so this was the result. Have a good week all!

Surviving Duty Vet

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I wrote, last week, about my frustrations around the non payment of relocation expenses. They haven’t yet been paid, but K, my line manager, has told me that the big boss I sent my complaint to is now trying to get it paid from the local budget, rather than continuing to fight with DEFRA HR. I will try to keep you updated. Another colleague has suggested I contact the union I joined when I arrived, so that’s another step to consider, though I am hoping it will all be resolved soon and I won’t need to.

For most of this week, including last weekend and the (Scottish) Monday bank holiday, I have been working as duty vet. During the weekend, that meant the APHA national phone line went through to my work phone, or at least any and all calls from the north of Scotland came through to me. In the north, a second vet was taking phone calls for the south. Not many people call the emergency line (thank goodness). I had only a few calls on the Monday, most of which were easily dealt with. The counter to that is that, if something does come in that actually requires me to go out, it is likely to be something serious. Possible reasons would include a suspected outbreak of a notifiable disease (think bird flu or foot and mouth) or a welfare case that’s so bad it can’t wait.

Anyway at least, with mobile phones, being on call no longer requires me to stay in the house, glued to a landline, so Andrew and I decided on Saturday that it was time to go and explore our local ice cream emporium. There are a couple locally. Farmers in the UK have been encouraged to diversify and so we took a short drive out to Drummuir Farm where they make their own ice cream. There were loads of choices of flavour, from biscotti to battenberg, and Andrew and I ended up ordering two glorious fruity sundaes.

We went for a drive afterwards, including through Dalton, where I stopped to take a photo of this lovely pastoral scene.

Andrew’s eye was caught at Drummuir by the full Scottish breakfast on the menu, so we returned on Sunday for an early lunch, which I can also recommend!

I don’t know if I’ve written much about being duty vet through the week before, but it’s not an enjoyable part of my job. Part of it is dealing with any queries that come in, either in emails or by phone. We don’t actually have to answer the phone during the day, but the calls are logged with a summary of the question, so then we have to look at what’s being asked and decide what action to take.

Some of these are quite straightforward. If a cow dies suddenly, the local private vet should go out and check whether it died of anthrax. An APHA vet has to okay that, then give them a reference number. This mostly involves form filling and it happens often enough that I already know the ropes.

But APHA covers a lot of ground on the animal front, so I might find myself with a query about an imported horse whose health certificate wasn’t filled in properly, or a farmer who failed to update his online records properly and has now found his farm is under TB restrictions as his test couldn’t be verified. These can take a lot of sorting out and require solid understanding of all the different computer systems we use. The main problem for me there, is that I don’t have a solid understanding of those systems yet.

Fortunately I have lovely colleagues, so I managed to get through, but ex policeman Tommy, who shares an office with me, saw that I was so stressed on Tuesday , Wednesday and Thursday that he arrived on Friday with a bottle of Malbec for me! Next week should be better, I think, My ongoing cases were mostly put on hold while I was on duty, so there’s a bit of catching up to do, but at least I have a better grasp of where I’m going with those.

In the meantime, I’ll finish with some pictures from my daily walks down Blackbird Lane. We’re into summertime now and my little green lane is full of colour and birdsong: a daily oasis to sooth my soul.

Back to the Grind

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Andrew and I were out a fair bit last weekend. Waiting lists for dentists in Dumfries are so long that I have joined my mum’s dental practice in Addingham. Fortunately my teeth are fine and now also clean. Andrew came with me on Saturday when I saw the dental hygienist. We had lunch afterwards. In a deli on the edge of town.

On Sunday, we drove back to Scotland. As it was a lovely day, and there was plenty of time, we decided not to head along the main road to the motorway, but instead drove up through the dales, to Hawes then Kirkby Stephen, then up the old A6 almost to Carlisle. I didn’t stop for many photos as it was warm and we had Triar in the car, but we did stop for lunch in an inn called the Fox and Pheasant at Armathwaite. The roast dinner sounded lovely, but more suited to a chilly autumn day, so we both had pizza, while Triar sat hopefully under the table.

I can’t say my first week back at work has been great. I did have a lovely day out, inspecting a very well-run farm with my colleague Lauren, but that was the only high point.

One of the most negative things was receiving an indirect message from the financial service that deals with wages and expenses. When I moved here from Norway, it inevitably cost a lot. One of my considerations when I saw the advert for this job was that they were offering “relocation support” for “some of our locations”. I was originally offered a post in Penrith, which would have been nearer my parents, but I asked about other posts where expenses might be available and I was told Dumfries was one of them.

The offer was made and I accepted, booked in my furniture removal (which in itself, cost more than the £5000 on offer) jumped through the hoop of getting several quotations from different removal companies (quite a faff in itself) and then made the long journey over.

There was an ongoing email discussion about the expenses and I was mildly suspicious when nobody seemed to know exactly how I would go about making the claim. The expenses information I was sent was ten years old, but I kept hoping those in contact with me would be able to find someone who knew how to do it.

That’s often the way in the civil service. There are many different functions and often, it’s about finding the right person, but even when I was in post and began to make the claim, it remained unclear. The form was off putting. It was obviously designed for those who already worked in the civil service and were being compulsorily relocated. Nonetheless, I was assured it was the correct form, so I filled it in as best I could, gathered all the paperwork and sent it to my manager, who sent it onwards to be paid.

That was in January and I have been waiting since. During that time, I have bought a house, thus tying myself down. My manager has been trying to chase it up, but I confess, with my cynical mind, I was wondering whether someone, somewhere, was going to try to weasel their way out of paying me, and the message I received on Monday (directed to my line manager, but sent on for info) made it clear I was right.

It stated that they had been delayed as they were investigating my claim. It went on to say that, as a new entrant, I was ineligible for relocation expenses. It would have had to be explicitly mentioned in the original advertisement, and that they hadn’t been able to find any reference to it. They realised that “Sarah will be disappointed” but there was really nothing they could do.

Reader, I was not disappointed. As any normal human being would predict, I was angry. There is an ongoing problem in the civil service in that everything has been cut to the bone and many of the benefits of working for the service have been slashed away. As I said, when I filled in the form, it was obvious there was no longer provision for relocation for new entrants, however by then, I was already in post and all the expenses incurred.

Back in April, when I was waiting for interview, I realized the advertisement had been taken down. I wanted to make sure I had all the information, so I dug back through a government portal and found it. I took screenshots to make sure I didn’t lose the information while I might still need it. Luckily, I hadn’t deleted it.

Admittedly it uses the word “support” and not “expenses” but I think you will agree, there is no mention made of this not being available to new starters. I was told at the interview that £5000 should be available and that was confirmed in various e-mails afterwards.

Underneath the anger though, what I feel is sad. There are a few people in my part of the civil service who’ve been here a long time and it’s obvious there used to be a lot of benefits and good things that have been taken away. Now there’s a never ending mill of trying to attract new staff, then losing them as demoralization sets in, or they rush for promotion as that is the only way to get a raise, since the wage bands and incremental raises have been removed.

I have been here six months and though I can see there are parts of the job I enjoy, I have half an eye on the job market, looking for other opportunities. Given how much money the civil service has already spent on the process of getting me on board, and given that I have hit the ground running and already am managing a significant workload, it seems very shortsighted to be messing me around like this. Anyway, I have sent my complaint right to the top of my section and we will see where it goes. In the meantime, if anyone knows of any good jobs in Dumfries, I’m all ears!

Have a good week all!

Tromsø to Settle

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I spent the first part of this week in Tromsø with John and his girlfriend Yoana. Although the weather was much duller than it was in Stavanger and Sørreisa, we still managed a drive out onto Kvaløya, which lies on the seaward side of Tromsø, over one of the arching, concrete bridges that are typical of the area. The sea was blue-grey under a sullen sky, with patches of turquoise closer to the sandy beaches, scattered along the rocky coastline.

This was an old schoolhouse in the village of Rekvik. The blue plaque says it was used as a school from 1916 to 1975, and it was used as community housing for evacuees in 1944-45.

And of course, a bit of local wildlife…

John, Yoana and I went out for lunch in a grill restaurant near the hurtigboat harbour in Tromsø on my last day. As with most meals, especially in the more northern parts of Norway, it was very meat-centric but delicious nonetheless.

I flew back to the UK on Wednesday and am spending the last few days of my holiday in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales. I have been madly taking photos because there is so much colour here. I hope you enjoy the contrast between the wild and austere Norwegian landscape and the cosiness of the Dales!

Thanks for reading. Have a lovely week!

Stavanger til Sørreisa

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It was lovely being back in Stavanger. As well as catching up with family, I also visited Wivek, who owns Triar’s mum, Trifli. Trifli had another litter three weeks before our visit and the puppies are now on their feet and getting adventurous! The last picture here is of Triar’s half sister, Kløver, who seems fascinated with all these new friends!

Stavanger looked beautiful under a clear blue sky. I have been very lucky with the weather, which is just as well as I couldn’t find my coat when I was packing. I thought I might have to buy a new one, but so far, I’ve got away with it!

I came north on Monday. The stunning approach to Bardufoss, with its deep blue sea and snowy mountain ranges was a wonderful start to my Northern odyssey and though it clouded over as we neared our destination, I was treated to the sight of a «glory» which is a rainbow-surrounded shadow cast by the plane onto the cloud cover.

I have been staying with my lovely friend, Shirley, for the past few days. I met Shirley just over a year ago on the fast boat to Tromsø. Hearing people speaking English in this remote area of Norway is rare enough that I turned round to speak to her and her visiting friend, Linda, and we’ve never looked back. Coming back was like returning to a home from home, not least because of the lovely dogs she and her husband Kai own. Here they are: Bailey at the front and Alva in the background.

It’s been interesting coming back. The snow melted on the lower ground quite early this year, but it’s a week or two too early for the incredible summer growth to begin. When I lived here, it always seemed like the least beautiful time of year, with its dead-looking plants and grass, but driving through the valleys, past snowy peaks and still-frozen lakes, it was easy to see the beauty in the landscape, despite the dust that covers the roadsides when all the winter snow has melted away.

We’ve had a wonderful week of cooking together and wine with dinner, as well as UK comfort TV, like Heartbeat and Judge John Deed. We went on a trip to Dyrøya on Wednesday and walked for an hour along a track above the fjord, with views over to the mountains of Senja to one side and rocky peaks to the other. There was even a sea eagle soaring in the blue sky, far above our heads.

On Friday, we went to Senjastua, a restaurant on the edge of Stavanger, which serves traditional and modern Norwegian food. I chose reindeer karbonader, which came with boiled potatoes and cream sauce. It was the perfect end to a very enjoyable week.

In an hour or so, I am heading north again on the fast boat to Tromsø, where I will be visiting John and Yoana for a few days. Have a good week all and thanks for reading!

Back in Stavanger

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This weekend, I’m back in Stavanger. Having lived in Rogaland for twelve years, it all feels very familiar. Better still, Anna is with me and we’re visiting Andrew, whose year at school here is rapidly coming to an end. Today, we’re going to watch some of the films he’s made over the year, and (I think) do a session of singing with the students who have been studying music. We went to a great concert last night, put on by those students, so I hope it’s going to be a fun day.

I’ve quickly slid back into the Rogaland Rhythm. I may have taken too many pictures of food and drink, but that’s just the way it is! My first action at the airport, while waiting for the bus was to buy a hot dog. Norwegian hotdogs are the best. This one is a cheesy hotdog wrapped in bacon. Nam nam! as they say!

Having left a rather chilly Scotland after a long, wet winter and spring, I arrived to sun and twenty degree temperatures. Despite the heat, Anna and I went to one of our old haunts for breakfast. Steam does the best croissants and coffee!

We went for a stroll to the harbour, where a cruise ship dominated the landscape. They really do dwarf the buildings. In the background, there are a couple of oil rigs, presumably brought in for maintenance, and that’s very Stavanger too.

We stopped in a bar by the harbour and spent ten pounds on 400ml of lager! Sometimes you just have to go with it!

And then we had Funky Frozen Yogurt, or as it’s known in the McGurk family, Funky Zen Gurt, because when it first arrived in a shopping centre near us, the logo design highlighted those bits.

Anyway, that’s probably a reasonable summary of the last 36 hours and the crazy whirl since then punctuated, as you can see, by junk food. And now It’d better get up as we’re meeting Andrew in an hour. Have a good week all!

A Good Learning Experience

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This has felt like the longest week yet. I was duty vet on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. At any given time, there are three vets covering direct enquiries in Scotland and these can vary hugely from issues that are directly relevant to other tasks we do (TB, welfare, notifiable or reportable disease, animal by-products) to enquiries that have effectively been sent to the wrong agency or department. For example at one point, I had a question about sheep scab (a reportable mite infestation) alongside another about some brown banded cockroaches that had been seen in a consignment of books brought in from India.

The first of those – the sheep scab – is absolutely our territory. That one I knew I would have to deal with from start to finish. The cockroaches? Really I am clueless. So the first part of my task was to working out which of the tasks was mine to complete and which should be forwarded on. As a complete novice, even making that decision isn’t straightforward. The two other vets on duty with me were busy with their own tasks. There’s a more senior vet on call, but that’s mostly for consultation on serious cases at nights or weekends.

I had thought, before I started, that it was only three days. How bad could it be? But by Monday lunchtime, I was overwhelmed. I was told to follow various checklists, but without prior understanding, they didn’t have enough detail. The instruction, “obtain owner or keeper’s e-mail so restrictions can be served and lifted with fewer delays” sounds straightforward enough, but there are multiple different systems where that e-mail might be recorded. Moreover, those are so complex that looking things up could take an hour and even then, I might still not have found it.

Finally, in desperation, I called my veterinary advisor, Pilar. I probably should have done it earlier, but I knew she was busy and she had already spent hours with me, trying to prepare me. Fortunately she was empathetic and understood how out of depth I was feeling. I had actually reached the stage where I was contemplating switching off computer and phone and walking away, but she talked me through everything in simple steps, told me I could gather most information by calling the vet who diagnosed the scab and the farmer whose sheep were infected and gave me a list of what to ask each. The cockroaches, she directed me to another APHA specialist, who would be able to advise.

It took me a very long time to work through that sheep scab case. Next time, it will be much quicker, but the good news is, that by the time I phoned cockroach guy back afterwards to find out more about his query, he’d already had the Forestry Commission in, who had dealt with the problem. As someone else pointed out, almost none of the enquiries are urgent, but it still feels overwhelming. It will get better over time, but those three days left me feeling wrung out.

Having survived the three days (and nights – no calls, but not relaxing knowing the possibility is there) of duty vet, I was hoping for a good end to the week, but it wasn’t to be. On Friday, I had booked in a welfare investigation with David, the local authority inspector. As regular readers will know, mostly those investigations reveal good welfare, but occasionally the reports are accurate, and this was one of them.

There are two main sets of rules we follow. There’s both the law of the land (Animal Health and Wefare Act, Scotland, 2006) and a more stringent set of welfare guidelines that farmers sign up to in order to receive government subsidies. Up until now, I have mostly visited farms where the farmers were broadly compliant with the guidelines, which represent a higher standard than the law. There have been a couple who met the law but not the guidelines, but until now, I haven’t seen any proper breaches of both.

There are various protocols in place for dealing with breaches, depending on severity. Minor breaches can be corrected with simple guidance. There’s a sliding scale from there, including serving notices for improvement within a specific timeframe, calling for direct action while on the farm (such as calling the private vet or requiring that animals are culled) right up to prosecution, for the most serious cases. The latter is usually (though not always) a last resort after improvements haven’t been made.

Anyway, yesterday I had my first Scottish breach. I’ve dealt with some in Norway before, so the welfare signs and how to record them are similar. However the protocols differ and it’s easy to put your foot in it. One thing I have learned is that, when I come across welfare problems, it’s intense. There’s a lot of pressure to make sure you get stuff right. If you say the wrong thing, the farmer can get prematurely angry or defensive, which makes everything more difficult. On every case I’ve reflected on afterwards, I have looked back and realised there were ways I should have done better and some things I learned. This is my initial list after yesterday. I know more will crop up as the case is processed and followed up.

Firstly, don’t forget to take supplies. There’s a minimum kit I should have had with me and didn’t. In Norway, we used disposable overalls and boot covers on every farm and I would go round the stockroom and pick up measuring implements, microchip readers and other equipment each time. It had become routine. Here there are certain items I am meant to have with me at all times, but I went out with someone from the local authority and (incorrectly) assumed that the LA inspector would have everything I needed. I don’t think it caused any catastrophic problems, but that was only by good fortune. I can easily rectify that for next time.

In addition, I will never again go out without food and drink. Generally such inspections take a few hours at most and we can go and buy lunch, but this time, there was a lot to get through and I was uncomfortably thirsty before we managed to take a break. In Norway there were often no cafes or shops within a two hour drive. Thomas never ever went anywhere without a can of cola and something to eat and I had started to do similar. Again, an easy lesson.

Second, don’t do welfare on a Friday. Graham mentioned this and it’s great advice. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, but in fact, it can cause no end of problems. Vets go onto out-of-hours rates and limited staffing at weekends, so if a call-out is fairly urgently required, it’s more complicated. Worse, abattoirs close for the weekends. They did in Norway too, but we had an emergency slaughter service 24/7. Labs close. If you want to send them anything, and it’s late, you can’t leave it till the next day. Even from the point of view of our own follow-up, it would have been better to go through the case the next day and not have two days in between.

Third (and unexpected). Don’t use the word evidence. It’s a funny thing to reflect on, but I never accidentally used that word in Norway. I didn’t even know the Norwegian word when I started working in Finnsnes! I rapidly learned how important language was when I started out in practice years ago though and now I need to learn what works in this role. The way you phrase things makes a massive difference to how the person on the other side of the exchange reacts.

To me, it felt like a technicality. Evidence is stuff I see and write down. It can be positive or negative, but it was obvious when I used it a couple of times that it instantly conjured the threat of a court case. Next time, I will find alternatives. If I ask to take photos, it’s not for evidence, it’s to get or record a full and accurate snapshot of what I’m seeing. Doing that is easily described as being in everyone’s interest. There are so many police shows now that the rights they read out (that include the word evidence) are probably at the forefront of people’s minds. I’ve always thought it would be easier to do this job in English and there’s no doubt it is, but there are new pitfalls and I need to adjust.

Anyway, as well as the things I got wrong, there were others that I did get right. The habit of using descriptive, observational, factual language, not opinion became second nature in Norway. A cow is not “thin”. Thin is an opinion. Instead I might write that “I can see her ribs and the bony prominences of her pelvis and spine and I rate her body condition score at 2” (with an explanation of what the condition score means). Those are facts. Realistically, “thin” is shorthand for “I observed those things” but it can open up the problem that different people might assess “thin” in different ways.

On my suggestion, David drew a map. I learned that from police in Norway after working on a case with them. It makes it easier to keep track if you have all the farm buildings mapped out and the sheds numbered. You can then describe more accurately where you found various animals and what your photos show.

This is a Scottish/British one; I should record important words verbatim. I learned that on a statement writing course. It’s not easy to do that as conversations go faster than I can write, but writing down someone’s actual words removes any confusion created by a summary of what you thought they said.

And finally, I’m going to end with something David told me. It can feel overwhelming during a welfare case, especially if there are many issues that need to be addressed. Again, harking back to Norway, even if I managed to improve things, I could still get bogged down in what I didn’t achieve, because it could have been done better. But as David pointed out, in the end of the day, if the actions I took relieved the suffering of a single animal, that was still an important achievement.

Have a good week all.

Modernity and Memories

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Though in some ways, the weeks seem to rush past, by the time I write this blog, things that happened Saturday to Tuesday always seem distant. I will be wandering round, on one of those days, thinking “I’ll have to write about this,” then by the end of the week, something else displaces it. Ideally, I should start logging in as things happen, but hey, I’m not that organized! Anyway, this week I have carefully stored away a couple of things I really want to share. The first is about a welfare inspection I did on Tuesday.

I’ve probably said it before, but the sheer size of farms now, compared even to fifteen years ago when I left, is astonishing. When I qualified as a vet, in 1991, larger dairy units might have had 150 cows. Numbers were creeping up though, and by the time I left the UK many of the bigger herds had expanded to having over three hundred cows. Now it seems to be not unusual to have a thousand, sometimes even more.

I have been wondering how welfare is maintained on such a unit. Back when herds were smaller, most farmers knew their animals well. I went out with a dairyman when I was at college and he knew the personalities of the cows he milked and there were some he was very fond of. I remember seeing him cry when he’d been away on holiday and came back to find one of his favourites gone, due to the carelessness of the relief dairy worker that had been covering for him. No wonder some farmers barely take holidays.

I am not under the false impression that bigger is inevitably worse. Those who have expanded are often the most efficient and forward thinking farmers. They are investing in the herd and their own future, but still I had been wondering how. These are living animals and to keep track of when they are in season or in calf, or are sick, takes a lot of time for observation and knowledge.

As we walked along the calf pens, I could see they were being bucket fed. Lots of bigger farms use automatic feeders for their calves, but not here. The farm is run by a couple and (fairly traditionally) it’s the woman who is responsible for feeding the calves. They did have automatic feeders for a while, but found they tended to get dirty. In addition, teaching them to drink from a bucket prepares them for going into bigger groups and being given milk from a trough. You can also check how much milk each calf gets and individualise each one. I guess it takes a long time at peak calving time, but it was interesting to see that a good start in life is so important that industrialization hadn’t occurred (or rather, had been tried and rejected) on this part of the farm.

As we moved from the calves to look at the close-to-calving cows, I was interested to notice that the nearest cow had something attached to her foreleg. I asked what it was, and was told it was a movement monitor. Just as I wear a watch that can tell me how many steps I take each day, the cow’s steps were also being monitored. I wasn’t immediately sure what purpose this would serve, but later, he took me to the computer where these measurements were read.

He showed me a the readings of a cow that was coming in season every month or so. Sure enough, the movements peaked hugely at that time. But it wasn’t only that he could look at the program and see which animals were in season. The system itself recognizes the pattern and, as the cow comes out of the milking parlour, where it goes twice a day, a gate automatically opens to allow it through into a different area, so she can be inseminated. A person walking through the cubicle shed to separate out these cows disturbs all the other animals. Instead, this is another process that is mechanised to minimise both the work required and the disruption to the herd.

Automatic scrapers to clean passageways in cubicle sheds have been around for a long time. Usually they are pulled by chains or ropes and there were some of those here. The chains were in runnels to prevent the cows standing on them and hurting their feet. One of the sheds had one of the newer machines, that functions like a robot vacuum cleaner. These have the advantage that they can go round corners, so there are no missed sections, which there are with the chain scrapers.

What I hadn’t seen before though, was an automatic scraper for moving silage. Usually cows are fed in a passage, where they put their heads between bars and eat the silage and feed that is put there. As they eat, the food gets pushed away, and usually someone will drive along with a tractor now and then and push it back in. Here, there was a machine that ran along a metal track, doing the job automatically for all the big sheds. It runs every two hours, except just after milking time, when it is set to go hourly, as the cows tend to be hungry when they’ve just been milked. Again and again, I saw that, although this system was on a large scale, there were tweaks and tricks that meant that it was really set up, based on what the cows needed.

And finally, back to the matter of the individual animal and the personal relationship. I can’t say I really touched on this with the farmer, although it was apparent as we walked round, that there was still fondness for individual animals. He did tell me though, that where his dad had always been keen to give every sick animal a chance, he tended to be more ruthless is removing animals with bad feet or which had been ill enough to mean they probably wouldn’t thrive. One thing I have observed from life as a vet is that there is a lot of unconscious cruelty by some pet owners, who keep their pets alive long after that life stopped being worth living. Perhaps in a system where animals with bad feet get removed quickly, breeding from those animals that are left will create a better herd, with fewer foot problems in the future. Anyway, I really enjoyed my visit. Cows are still cows and they are still my favourite animals and these visits give me plenty of food for thought.

The other memory was from last weekend. I mentioned I had been told there was a man in his nineties, who’d lived here all his life. I ran into him last weekend. He has a garage at the end of the street where he makes wooden toys for children. He beckoned Triar and me in, and gave Triar a biscuit. Though he was in a wheelchair and his hands were shaky, he was painstakingly painting a toy duck that would go on a stick. There would also be feet attached to a wheel that would spin as it was pushed along the ground.

I asked him if he sold the toys and he said no. He gives them away, and the look on the child’s face is payment enough, he told me. If I ever have any children to stay, I will undoubtedly take them along to see him.

He also started to tell me a bit about the street and I resisted the urge to ask him if I could record what he was saying, as it was lovely. He had lived in the street law his life, he said, and could remember back to the time when it was a village and not part of the town. The doctor came out rarely, he said. If someone was sick, they called for Mrs Black. Mrs Black was also the one you called on if someone was giving birth. We also had a discussion about the healing powers of honey. As antibiotic resistance is growing, even in the vet world there is starting to be more exploration of how old remedies can be better integrated into modern treatment. I bet Mrs Black could have taught us a few things about helping sick people that we have lost in our rush towards modern medicine.

Anyway, I’ll leave you on that note. The pictures are from Blackbird lane, where Triar and I are still walking, morning and evening. This week’s unusual birds were a tree pipet and a mistle thrush, but the blackbirds haven’t deserted. Have a good week and thanks for reading!

Blackbird Lane

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It’s been a quiet week at work. As a veterinary inspector, I am on a rota four times a year for detached duty. During that time, I can be deployed anywhere in the UK where there is a disease outbreak. I was on the rota for next week, so I was half waiting for a call to come in, and I had kept my calendar clear of visits. I wasn’t sure when I would be told, but I was out inspecting a rendering plant on Tuesday with G, who told me that if I hadn’t heard by now, I could probably assume I wasn’t being sent anywhere.

I must say it came as a relief. Normally, I’m all for travelling to different places for work. I love a bit of variety and the current outbreak work seems to be bluetongue inspections and blood testing (last year’s bird flu – higher risk – not so pleasant) but I was exhausted after moving and the house is still in chaos. Triar was also unsettled so, much as he loves visiting Mum and Dad, it seemed better all round to be staying in our new home for a while. It also meant that I could plan my workload over two weeks instead of rushing through it.

The rendering plant visit was fascinating. I dare say most would find it grim. They deal with animal waste products, so stuff like fallen stock (animals that died on farms) and slaughterhouse waste. The products they process are high risk, so they have to heat them to a high temperature, then separate what’s left out. What impressed me, is that even these waste products are put to good use.

They remove as much fat (tallow) as they can and send it to make biofuels. Their fat is used to drive buses. The remaining meat and bone meal is sent to a power station and burned to produce energy, then the ashes become fertilizer. The plant itself has also recently invested in machinery that recirculates the heat, so that it’s twenty five percent more efficient than it used to be, and if the price of tallow drops, they can even run the unit using that, rather than selling it. Given how much of our household waste goes into landfill, it was good to find out that this waste is being put to much better use.

I was feeling a bit down when I came back from Yorkshire last Sunday. I had flung everything into my new house and then had to go away, so I knew I wasn’t coming back to an oasis of tranquility. Donna had suggested celebrating my arrival with gin, but she had a friend round and there was no way I could leave Triar to go and join them. Practical as ever she immediately suggested that she and Debs could come round, bringing the gin with them.

They arrived with gin, tonic and extra large ice cubes, which apparently are better as they don’t melt so fast and dilute the gin too much! Having allowed Debs to pour (in the knowledge that Debs pours with a very generous hand) they didn’t even get as far as sitting down. Seeing I was overwhelmed with everything, they offered to do what Donna had done when I last moved, and unpack my kitchen.

There wasn’t really any room for me (it’s a little house) so I went and cleaned out the sticky, hairy bathroom drawers, which I confess was helped along by being gin fueled. There’s quite a lot still to be done and cleaned, but having the basics in place makes life much more liveable.

My new street does seem rather lovely. There are three rows of cottages in what was once a village outside Dumfries, but which has now been assimilated. My street doesn’t go anywhere and I am almost at the end of it, so there’s not a lot of passing footfall. I’ve said before, that it seems like something out of Harry Potter and that feeling hasn’t gone away. I’ve been taking a Triar out morning and night and every time I seem to meet someone new. There’s Gary next door and Kay along the way, who has a little dog called Hamish, and apparently there’s a lovely old man across the street, who’s 93. He was born here, I was told, and wants everyone to feel welcome, so I hope to meet him soon. Everyone has been incredibly welcoming and it does feel like I’m living in a friendly village, rather than in a town.

And so the best part of my daily routine at the moment, is walking Triar. At the end of our street, you can take a left turn down a lane. It’s bordered with hawthorn and it’s filled with wild flowers and birdsong. It’s not (so far as I know) called Blackbird Lane, but that’s what I’ve called it in my head, because they are everywhere.

They sit atop the hawthorn, regarding me with their bright eyes, seemingly fearless. The males, with their sleek black plumage and cheerful yellow beaks, compete with one another for the best perches. I caught sight of one of the quieter brown females last night with a worm in her mouth, so perhaps she already has young somewhere.

I see house sparrows too, in the hedges and flitting around, but what I find particularly wonderful is the birdsong. A Norwegian friend from the Arctic posted on Facebook this week “the sound of spring” with film of a newly unfrozen stream, emerging from the ice. A wonderful sound indeed after the winter silence, but here in south west Scotland, spring is filled with birdsong.

Just listening to it fills me with joy, but a while back, I downloaded an app, which records the song and tells me what I am hearing. I remembered it a couple of nights ago and it came up with sparrow, blackbird, wren, great tit and blue tit. Last night’s rendition was even better, though it did miss the wood pigeon that was calling in the distance. Finding out which birds are there makes the whole thing even more wonderful.

So there is a lot to do, but also a lot to look forward to. Today, I have to go and buy a stepstool so I can reach the ceilings. The previous owner smoked in the kitchen and the smell still lingers, along with the yellow stained paint. I’ll need to wash it all down before I can paint it. A colleague recommended a joiner to me and he came round yesterday to assess how much work it would be to put in insulation in the roof.

He suggested that, as we would have to pull the walls down to put the insulation in, if I was considering putting in a bathroom or toilet upstairs, it would be better to do the whole thing at once, and check the wiring too, if that was a viable option, so he might come back today with an electrician and later with a plumber. If he can really organize everything for me, that would be a miracle.

But priorities are priorities and the most important task of the day, apart from my tours down Blackbird lane, is to go out and buy some gin and tonic in the hope of attracting in a friendly neighbour. Said neighbour may have to bring along some extra large ice cubes as my freezer needs defrosting before I can use it. Currently it is scented with six month old cigarette smoke. Obviously I should have defrosted it before I moved in, but lingering ice odours hadn’t crossed my mind! I’m going on holiday soon, so that will be a good opportunity for defrosting, cleaning and airing.

Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed this little trip down Blackbird lane. I am looking forward to seeing what grows there through the summer and also exploring further as the mud dries up. Have a good week all!

Through the Eyes of a Cow

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I have been down to Weybridge agent this week, this time for a cattle handling course. Before going, I was rather cynical. After all, I’ve been a vet and have worked with cattle for a long time, I’d done a course in Norway about the design of facilities in abattoirs, where I learned about behaviours, so I rather thought it might be a lot of repetition. The two colleagues who attended with me were actually farmers, so I think they had the same concern, but it warm in fact, very interesting.

The essence of the course was to teach us about health and safety when it comes to cattle. I haven’t read it yet, but there is a health and safety document (HS32) regarding handling facilities and minimum safety standards when we go to a farm, what we should look for and when to walk away.

There’s a drive in UK farming at the moment and grants available for building safer facilities, we were told. Farmers who provide inadequate, unsafe facilities are paid the same for their products as farmers who don’t, so if we walk away, for valid reasons (backed up by HS32) then there is legal pressure for them to comply. If they don’t, they will find themselves under a movement ban. As someone who probably would have tended to push on through, this in itself was a good message. Take it further and it’s also good for the animals. Escape attempts that go wrong don’t only result in risk to the human beings present, but to the animals as well.

Most of the course was led by Miriam Parker, and if you are interested in what she does, there are videos online. In essence, she designs livestock handling facilities with the animals in mind. If you want an animal to go somewhere, the best way to do that is to design the facility so the animal wants to walk through it. Ideally, you want the handlers to be able to guide them from outside as well, as that is much safer.

I had learned about flight zones before: the area an animal maintains around itself – enter it and the animal tries to move away. I also knew about the balance point – if you stand behind its shoulder, it tends to move forwards, in front, it moves back or turns. But we also looked at the behaviour and signs of discomfort when you are in the flight zone (a potentially risky place to be) and the limitations of cattle sight.

I had always thought that, with their eyes in the sides of the head, that cattle were mostly looking out to the sides. Not so! They have very wide peripheral vision and can perceive movement there, but most of their attention is still focused in front of them. I should have known that really. When they stand looking at you in a field, they do look straight at you, after all. What they do have though, is a great big blind spot in front of them, which means it’s much harder to judge distance when close up, for example. If you wondered what the picture at the top of the page was, it’s my colleague, Lesley, wearing a pair of spectacles that allow you to get an idea of what a cow sees. No wonder, when cows are walking into somewhere that looks strange, they take a lot of time, putting their heads down and to different angles, trying to eye up not only whether it’s safe, but whether they can get through at all.

We also went out to a field, where there were some fairly flighty calves. Our group of about twenty was split into smaller groups, then we were sent out in turn to try various exercises, such as getting them to walk to different places in the field. This proved to be quite difficult as getting them moving slowly in the first place was one thing. Slowing them down if they took off was much more difficult. Miriam explained the importance of moving back to give them space, rather than pushing them on, or standing close to keep them where you want, to the point where they’re stressed and milling. Step back and they are more likely to relax and stand.

I had been disappointed with my performance with various teams for much of the exercise. However the last task of the day was to try to split off two calves, leaving the others in a group. Many years ago, I used to stay up late into the night, watching One Man and his Dog on TV. For those who don’t know, this was a shepherding competition for a shepherd and his sheepdog, where they had to guide the sheep round the field, through various gates and into certain areas, before guiding them into a pen and closing the gate.

One of the exercises they did was to separate out two sheep from the rest of the flock. How many times did I watch as those calm dogs edged towards the group, moving in an out until they saw their chance? A gap would form, where two of the animals started to edge away and the rest weren’t quite ready to follow, and then the dog went in between them, cutting the group cleanly into two. To my enormous pleasure, I found I could do this instinctively, and for the first time that day, our group performed this task smoothly and without a hitch. It was a great end to the session.

Good as the cattle course was, it was also great to spend some extra time getting to know my colleagues better. As well as Lesley, we had Lauren there. Both of them are from farming backgrounds and, like many people from farming stock, they are very down to earth, as well as funny and practical. I’ve always felt that the people I work with are what make the most difference between enjoying work or not and I’m looking forward to working with them more!

I’ll finish with a few photos from my new garden. Though it’s running a bit wild at the moment m there’s plenty of colour and lots to look at. Have a good week, all!