I read somewhere that the average "practice life span" of a large animal vet is eight years. After they quit L.A. practice they go into small animal practice, government work, industry, university, research or some other less hazardous profession.
Every L.A. veterinarian you know can tell "war stories" that curl your hair! Its not surprising when you realize whenever the vet is called out to look at a bull, a horse or a heifer, the critter is sick or hurting. And when it's not, the vet is gonna do something to it that will hurt or make it uncomfortable!
Stockmen theI read somewhere that the average "practice life span" of a large animal vet is eight years. After they quit L.A. practice they go into small animal practice, government work, industry, university, research or some other less hazardous profession.
Every L.A. veterinarian you know can tell "war stories" that curl your hair! Its not surprising when you realize whenever the vet is called out to look at a bull, a horse or a heifer, the critter is sick or hurting. And when it's not, the vet is gonna do something to it that will hurt or make it uncomfortable!
Stockmen the world over suffer from the same hazards. Anybody who has handled much livestock has been bit, stomped, kicked, stepped on, gored, butted, rammed, spit on, run over or humiliated! All of which brings me to my story.
I had been spending most of my nights in the calving barns, sleeping in a bedroll and getting up every hour or two to perform some miracle obstetrical procedure. I was tired to the bone and my eyes were sunk back in my head like a scourin' calf!
The weather was cold, clear and wet the mornin' I went out to get a newborn calf from the little pen where he'd spent the night with his mother. As Albert opened the gate to let me in he cautioned, "She's a little ringy, Doc." I stepped back and flattered myself against the neighboring pen so she could come out into the alley. She breached the gate, spied me and charged!
I had my right arm up on the gate. She caught me in the ribs as she picked up speed and off we went down the alley! I was somehow balanced on her head like a hood ornament on a Mack Truck! In flight I reached out with my right hand and grabbed a passing gate. I picked up enough splinters to pick Donald Trump's teeth and sunk an eight penny nail in my finger! world over suffer from the same hazards. Anybody who has handled much livestock has been bit, stomped, kicked, stepped on, gored, butted, rammed, spit on, run over or humiliated! All of which brings me to my story.
I had been spending most of my nights in the calving barns, sleeping in a bedroll and getting up every hour or two to perform some miracle obstetrical procedure. I was tired to the bone and my eyes were sunk back in my head like a scourin' calf!
The weather was cold, clear and wet the mornin' I went out to get a newborn calf from the little pen where he'd spent the night with his mother. As Albert opened the gate to let me in he cautioned, "She's a little ringy, Doc." I stepped back and flattered myself against the neighboring pen so she could come out into the alley. She breached the gate, spied me and charged!
I had my right arm up on the gate. She caught me in the ribs as she picked up speed and off we went down the alley! I was somehow balanced on her head like a hood ornament on a Mack Truck! In flight I reached out with my right hand and grabbed a passing gate. I picked up enough splinters to pick Donald Trump's teeth and sunk an eight penny nail in my finger!
Three days later I was putting a heifer back in her little pen...
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