D. E. Larsen, DVM

I have spoke on this topic in the past. Probably many times, but without supporting my opinions with any tangible data. Maybe I can change that a bit.

There are many illustrations of communities where the morning school buses dropped pff busloads of kids from the surrounding farms at the city schools. They were called farm kids, and we called the other kids townies.

Those two groups almost lived in completely different worlds. We moved closer to town in my seventh grade year. When I stayed overnight with a classmate in town, I was amazed. He had his own room. It was his own private room that he could do things in. He had a desk, pictures and posters on the wall, and all sorts of personal things scattered about. I shared a bedroom with two brothers. That room was used for changing clothes and sleeping. My private space was an old cigar box in the upper drawer of our dresser. And I would guess that it was not terribly private.

Our work ethic was different. Townies maybe had chores, not real work, and they spent time with school work. I had to rush home and help with the milking and caring for all the other animals. I hurried to change clothes and get to the barn, hoping to get the work done with enough daylight left to allow me to go fishing or hunting. I never cracked a book or did school work.

The view of life, and death, was different for farm kids. Life, and birth, was an every day event for us. As was death. Calves that I had hand raised, grew old, and if they didn’t make the milking string, they would end up on the dinner table. Life was measured in quality, not quantity.

Because of those differences, farm kids tended to be a stabilizing influence in their peer groups. I believe the disappearance of the family farm, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, resulted in a corresponding disappearance of the farm kids. The buses no longer were stuffed with farm kids. At the same time, the drug culture started to raise its head. There were probably many factors for that, but the loss of that stabilizing influence in the peer groups was definitely one factor.

So, what happened to the family farm. Probably many things. I have always blamed the food industry and the medical profession. But the price of things probably had a lot to do with it.

In 1949 my folks bought a farm with an old house and an old barn on 160 acres. The barn is gone now but the house remains, and is still in use. They paid eight $8,000 for that farm. That is equivalent to just over $113,000 in 2026 dollars. Try buying 160 acres for $120,000 today.

So real estate value was one factor. My Dad worked and Mom and the kids milked the cows. The cows pretty much paid for the place. We didn’t have any extra money. By some standards, we were probably considered poor. But we didn’t know it. Life was good in my view.

When I finished school and joined a dairy practice in Enumclaw, Washington, we took care of about 10,000 dairy cows. The farmers got about six dollars per hundred weight for their milk. I was always told that the delivery driver got more for the gallon of milk he delivered to the grocery store than the farmer. I have no idea if that was factual.

Six dollars in 1975 translate to $37.58 in 2026 dollars. The spot price for milk today is $17.65 per hundred weight. So you cut the price of milk in half and increase the price of a working farm to the lowest estimate of $800,000, and you drive trough Enumclaw today and you find a few hundred dairy cows. And only a handful of farm kids in s high school of high school of 1400 kids.

There appears to be many factors involved in the loss of the family farm. But the price of things like milk and price of land play a big role. Norway pays the farmer about $32.00 per hundred weight, close to the money dairy farmers got in this country in the early 1970s.

Maybe I have been too hard on the medical profession in blaming them for their part in the demise. But I am certain that the loss of the farm kids had a significant impact on the drug culture. I was probably somewhat of wild kid for a few years. My philosophy was to work hard and to play hard. But there was no drug use in any of my peer groups.

The photo is of a near perfect cow’s udder. The source of life saving bone density in many of us. I have milked hundreds of cows in my younger years, maybe over a thousand. I worked at the Colorado State University dairy my fist spring and summer of Veterinary school. I found that I could name every cow by her udder. As years went by, I found that held true for virtually all species.

Photo Credit: Giulia Botan on Pexels

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I would like to take a moment in this Veteran’s Day to discuss my feelings on who really built this country. I should have put this discussion on Memorial Day, but better late than never.

We here the press and the politicians quote the “Founding Fathers” all the time. They also give much credit to current and past Presidents and to Congress. Mostly old men and women, although a few of the Founding Fathers were younger men (but men didn’t live so long in those years).

However, when you look closely at the history of this country, it is the blood of young men that soak the ground that we stand on. I many cases, very young men. Revolutionary War soldiers were as young as 15.

About 24,000 – 25,000 American servicemen died in the American Revolutionary War (1775–1783). Most American soldiers were teenagers or young adults—generally 15–30 years old, with an average age around 22—although some were much older. Of that figure only about 6,800 died in combat, the other 17,000 died from disease or other causes, including death while in captivity. These are estimates, as exact counts do not exist.

Roughly 620,000 men died in the Civil War, 360,000 Union and 280 Confederate. Of that total about 110,000 Union and 95,000 Confederate deaths were from combat. Close to double those figures were from disease and other causes. There is no data on the ages of those who died, although the average age of a Civil War soldier was 26 years. Census data in Confederate states show that 20% – 33% of native-born white males who were ages 15 -34 years of age in 1860 died because of the war. That figure is less than 10% for the North.

World War I saw 116,516 military personnel deaths, including 53,402 battle deaths and 63,114 other deaths in service. Many of those other deaths were from the Spanish Flu Pandemic. The average age for ‘doughboys’ was approximately 25 years, but there is no breakdown of the ages for deaths. Total US military personnel who served worldwide during WWI was 5,734,991.

On D-Day, June 6, 1944, 2,519 servicemen died in the normandy invasion. Age data is not available, but the assumed average age for troops who took part in the invasion is about 26 years of age.

Some of the soldiers on D-Day were only 16 years old, boys who had lied about their ages to enter military service. Joseph Argenzio, Jr is described by the Army as the youngster infantryman on Omaha Beach. But is is impossible to determine the single youngest participant because underage recruits falsified their records.

Approximately 407,000 US military personnel died in WWII. Battle deaths number 291,557. There are no age breakdowns for WWII deaths but the average age of soldiers serving was about 26 years of age. That age was slightly younger for those in the Navy and Marines.

US pilots in WWII were often in their early twenties, although some were in their late teens and a few were considerably older. Army aviation cadets initially had to be between 19 and 25 to enter training. In 1941 the army authorized an enlisted pilot program and accepted candidates who were 18 – 22 yeas of age. They would go through about a year of training and graduate as an officer. Enlisting at 19, they could be a bomber pilot at the age of 20. In Europe in those years, they had a 20% chance of being shot down, killed or captured, on every mission.

The Korean War (1950 – 1953) saw 36,574 deaths of military personnel.  Battle deaths account for 33,739 of those. For the Army, 4,702 deaths were in soldiers who were 19 or under. Ages 20 – 24 years account for 11,984 deaths. That is almost 50% of the battle deaths and does not account for the other services. Unlike earlier conflicts, more non-battle deaths were caused by injury (79%) than by disease (21%).

In the Vietnam War The US ha 58,220 military deaths. Of those 10,786 were  non-hostile deaths. Of those fatalities, 61% were 21 or younger. And 11,365 were under 20. The overall mean age was pulled upward by older officers, for a mean age of 28.43 years. Enlisted personnel who died averaged 22.37 years of age.

Conflicts following Vietnam resulted in fewer fatalities, probably totaling less than 10,000 and the average age is maybe a little higher since the draft was discontinued in 1973. But still a significant number of young men were lost.

I feel confident in saying that over the last 250 years we have lost approximately 1.2 million men in various wars and conflicts. Of that number, well over 50% were under the age of 25. Many, at the time of their death, were to young to vote and too young to drink a legal beer in their home town.

They were young guys, possibly scared, but they also believed they were bulletproof, who just wanter to be home again. But they answered the call when their country needed them. And today this country stands on their sacrifice. And that has nothing to do with all the politicians in the world.

My father always said that there would be fewer wars if the politicians had to go fight them. And how true that would be.

D. E. Larsen, DVM

It was almost a perfect Saturday afternoon. Late August in the Willamette Valley provides a short stretch of weather that acts as an interlude between the summer heat and the fall’s rains.

We were still getting settled into our newly purchased house. We had the kids outside, working in the garden, and playing in the grass. I started to consider setting up the garage to see patients for a couple of months while waiting for the clinic construction to be completed.

The afternoon’s calm was broken when the phone rang.

“Doc, I know this is Saturday evening,” Dave said while trying to catch his breath. “But Doc, I was just out in the pasture, and I have seven dead calves, all about 2 months old. They were healthy as could be yesterday. I have about 30 more out there. What do you think I have going on?”

“It sounds like we need to get a necropsy on one or two of those dead calves,” I said. “The Diagnostic Lab at OSU is closed for the weekend. I can do a necropsy, but any lab work would need to wait until Monday.”

“If seven of them died overnight, they might be all dead by Monday,” Dave said.

“I agree, Dave,” I said. “I have a pretty good background in pathology. I worked in the necropsy room at CSU the summer following my sophomore year in vet school. I can likely get a good diagnosis with a gross necropsy. I will collect samples, just in case we need them for Monday.”

Seven dead calves amounted to about 15% of his herd. That was probably the profit for the year, at least a good chunk of it. A dead animal usually was not an absolute emergency, unless it was a herd animal. Unless it was a bunch of animals that died in a short time.

Dave had all seven dead calves lined up at the pasture gate when I pulled in the driveway.

What a waste. All seven calves were in good shape, looked good for a couple of months old. I surveyed the herd out in the pasture. Good pasture for August, and the herd looked like nothing was wrong.

“Where do they get their water?” I asked.

“There is a pond, just over the rise, at the far end. You can’t see it from here.”

I pulled on a pair of gloves and looked over all the calves. Jaundice was evident in each one.

“Let’s take the smallest one and pull him over here out of the pasture,” I said. “We don’t want to contaminate things any more than they are already.”

I laid the calf on his left side and quickly reflected his skin and right legs. Stretching them out over his back. I took a moment to remember Dr. Norrdin’s words, “Work with your mouth closed.” Then I opened the chest and abdomen. The chest was fine, but the liver was swollen and dark in color. The urine in his bladder colored with bile. This was an acute outbreak of Leptospirosis.

Lepto was known to cause abortion ‘storms’ in pregnant cow herds. Acute outbreaks in young calves occurred only rarely. It always amazed me how I always seemed to see all the rare events in my first couple of years out of school.

I collected samples for the lab on Monday if we needed them, liver, kidney, spleen, gall bladder, urine, and blood. Then I roughly closed the animal up.

“Dave, I think you have an unusual outbreak of Lepto in these young calves.”

“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Dave asked.

“Have you had any cows abort this year?” I asked.

“We had one cow abort about a week ago. I never thought much about it. It is not unusual for us to have an abortion or two every year.”

“There is an antibiotic treatment that will stop an abortion storm in cows. The entire herd is treated with a single dose of Streptomycin. I don’t think anything is written about controlling an outbreak in young calves. But my guess is if it stops abortions in a herd, it will stop an outbreak in calves.”

“So where am I going to get enough streptomycin to treat a herd at this hour on Saturday evening?” Dave asked.

“You’re lucky enough that I ordered it on my initial stocking order. I didn’t think I would ever use it, but I wanted to have it on hand. So, I think I have you covered in that regard.”

“There are a couple of other items we need to cover,” I said. “Number one, this is contagious to people. And it can do the same thing to people that it does to these calves. I was just talking with Dr. Craig the other day, he worked a herd with another veterinarian, and they both got sick. Dr. Craig went to the doctor as soon as he noted some blood in his urine, he got well. The other veterinarian waited till the next morning, he died.”

“Number two is the pond. Lepto is usually spread via contaminated water sources. If you had a cow with a Lepto abortion, she sheds organisms in her urine for several weeks. If she pees in or near that pond, calves that drink out of the pond can end up here,” I said as I pointed to the dead calves.

“You need to fence that pond and put a water tank in the pasture,” I said.

“Do you think I should inject these calves tonight?” Dave asked.

“If you’re up to it, that is what I would recommend,” I said. “You might wake up in the morning with another batch of dead calves.”

“I will get you enough Streptomycin and vaccine,” I said. “I would give both. Lepto vaccines have some limitations in that there are many strains of Lepto. The vaccine protects against three of the most common strains, but there are others, and there is not a lot of cross-protection. It is the best we can do at the moment.”

“What should I do with these calves?” Dave asked.

“Move them out of the pasture. If you will have the rendering truck pick them up, that is okay. Otherwise, bury them deep. And don’t let the dogs get into this calf that we opened. They can get this also.”

I fixed up Dave with the necessary antibiotic and dosages and left him enough vaccine for the entire herd. He had a crew coming to help him. When I left that evening, I left him with one last piece of advice.

“Dave, you make sure everyone works with their mouth closed tonight,” I said. “And make sure they shower before going to bed.”

“Thanks, Doc, wish me luck,” Dave said.

“There is very little luck in this business. That is why it is important to do things the best we can at all times,” I said. “I will give you a call in the morning.”

I spent a long time drinking my coffee in the morning, and Sandy noticed.

“What is wrong with you this morning?” she asked.

“I am dreading calling Dave,” I said. “I am hopeful that I solved his immediate problem last night, but if I didn’t, he might have a bigger problem this morning.”

“Dave, this is Doc. I was just checking in with you on how things went last night and how things look this morning,” I said.

“We got the herd done, had to get out some floodlights for the tail end of it, but they are done. Things look good so far this morning. I have a couple of guys stringing an electric fence around the pond this morning, and I have a small water tank in the pasture. I am getting ready to run to Albany and see if I can pick up a large tank. Can’t thank you enough, Doc. I will keep you posted.”

Dave never had another problem, and the lab confirmed the Lepto diagnosis on Monday. In the next forty years, I never saw another outbreak like this one. Go figure the odds.

Photo by Kat Jayne from Pexels