Look Her in the Eye 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I pulled up the swinging gate at McCubbins’ Ranch. Frank maintained a wide range of species on this ranch, elk, sika deer, fallow deer, llamas, African antelope, wallabies, and rheas. I enjoyed making calls here. But I hated this gate.

It swung open on each side, pivoting on a center post. It was a heavy wooden gate with a large rubber bumper on it. You hit the bumper, and the gate would swing open. Briefly! Once it swung open, you had to gun the truck through the gate, or it would nail you on the side of the truck as it returned to the closed position.

I looked at Hope. “I hate this gate,” I said. “Hang on!”

I bumped the truck into the bumper on the gate. The heavy gate swung open. I gunned the truck through the gate, snapping Hope’s head against the headrest. The gate closed behind us.

“Wow!” Hope said. “I see what you mean about that gate.”

This was Hope’s first visit to Glacier Springs Ranch. She was a little excited to be doing something out of the ordinary if veterinary practice offered anything normal.

We drove up the long driveway and stopped at the barn.

“We are looking at an older llama today,” I said. “They are usually pretty easy to work with, but this gal has something going on in her mouth. So this might prove interesting. We will have to play it by ear on what we need to restrain her.”

The llama was in the corral, but Frank wasn’t in sight. I got my stuff lined up, trying to anticipate what might be needed to examine and treat this llama.

“These are valuable animals right now,” I said to Hope. “This is an older female, but she is still worth over twenty-thousand dollars.”

“Why are they so valuable?” Hope asked. “What are they good for?”

“There is no viable market for them except for the excess males,” I said. “The males are popular for wilderness pack animals, but that value is only seven or eight hundred dollars. The rest is people buying them for an investment. There is no meat market at all. They can sell their wool, but that is not much, either. It is all a pie-in-the-sky market and doomed to fail someday. Frank has always been trying to get me to buy a female. He says all you have to do is get on a female baby, and you have your investment returned. I just can’t see getting into such a market.”

Frank finally came out of the house and walked over to the corral.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Frank said. “I was stuck on the phone with one of those people who can never bring a conversation to an end.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “We have plenty of time. What’s going on with this old gal?”

“You’re right there,” Frank said. “Angel is an old gal, one of my oldest. I don’t have a birthdate for her, but she is over twenty. She is still producing babies, though. That’s what they say about llamas. They die pregnant. So, with today’s market and figuring on a female baby every other year, I can expect to make over ten thousand a year off her. Old but still working. I had one die a couple of years ago. She was twenty-eight and pregnant.”

“I notice her drooling a bit,” I said.

“That’s why I called,” Frank said. “She is having some problems eating, and I think she is losing some weight. I’m not sure how we will get a good look at her. Do you want to try putting her in the chute?”

“I think if we just tie her here and you and Hope sort of restrain her between you will be the best,” I said. “One of you will need to grab an ear, and I will have room to get a good look into this mouth.”

It actually turned out easier than I expected. Angel pulled straight back on the rope when I started grabbing for her tongue. With Frank holding one ear to steady her head, she pretty much restrained herself.

I had to pull some hay and cud out of her mouth to get a good view. I pulled her tongue to the left side of her mouth and shined my penlight into her mouth. 

There was the problem. She had lost an upper molar, and the opposing lower molar was overgrowing. It was a classic step-mouth. I released her tongue and let everyone relax.

“Frank, she has lost an upper tooth in the back of her mouth,” I said. “The lower tooth that wears against that tooth has sort of overgrown. I will need to file it down.”

“Can you just pull it out of there,” Frank asked. 

“I don’t think that is an option for me,” I said. “That is probably the best option, but that is only available at a teaching hospital right now. That would mean a trip to Davis to the University of California Veterinary Hospital.”

“Maybe if she was a little younger,” Frank said. “Do you think you can file it down?”

“I think so. I have a small float that should work for her,” I said. “It won’t take too long, and she is being pretty good.”

After retrieving the float, a rod with a sharp rasp on the end, I started working on the tooth. Things went faster than I expected. Angel shook her head, but Frank’s grip on her ear held her pretty steady. She struck at me a couple of times but missed her mark. When I had the tooth filed down to the level of the other teeth, I smoothed the points on the rest of the teeth.

“There, I think Angel will be back to eating pretty normally now,” I said. “We should probably plan to recheck her in about six months. I don’t know if we will have to do anything then, but we should check.”

“Maybe, I will just wait and see if she gets into a problem again,” Frank said.

“She looks furious,” Hope said. “Her ears are back. Maybe we should let her go.”

“Just look her in the eye,” I said. “That will settle her down.”

Hope started to look her in the eye.

“No! Don’t do that, Hope,” Frank said. “Doc was teasing. If you look these llamas in the eye, they will surely spit on you.”

We turned Angel loose after removing her halter, and she went straight to the feed rack.

“Thanks a lot, Doc,” Hope said. “Frank saved me, I think.”

“I would have stopped her before she nailed you,” I said. “That is just something to know about these critters.”

I never looked at Angel again. I assumed that her mouth never got to be a problem again. Either that, or she didn’t live as long as Frank expected.

Photo be Mike van Schoonderwalt on Pexels.

My Calf Needs a Little Repair, From the Archives

D. E. Larsen, DVM

“Doc, I think I have a calf that needs a little repair,” Larry said into the phone.

“What is the problem Larry,” I asked?

“One of the hind legs is not working quite right. I think it is broken. The cow was having a problem getting it out. She got out into the oak grove up here and was twisting around and slammed it into one of those big oak trees. Is that fixable?”

“That depends, Larry. Where is the break located?”

“I think it is the thigh bone,” Larry said.

“Tell me about this calf, Larry. Sometimes the best medical decision is not necessarily the best financial decision.”

“He is a nice looking bull calf, a half Simmental, but just a market animal,” Larry said.

“The thigh bone is not very amendable to a splint like we used on the front leg of that heifer of yours a couple of years ago. That leaves a surgical repair. My guess is the Vet School in Corvallis would love to repair it, but you will have to sell him and several of his friends to cover the expense.”

“Do you think you could fix him,” Larry asked?

“Well, bring him down to the clinic, and I will get a look at him. If we cut a few corners and get lucky, I might be able to fix him. I need to know if this kind of a repair is a viable option at this clinic anyway. At least we can try. I could maybe split the profits with you.”

The calf was a healthy newborn that was over 100 pounds. He was a bit of a handful, but with several sets of hands, we could get him under anesthesia with a mask.

After he was under anesthesia, I could do a good exam. His left femur had a mid-shaft fracture.

“Larry, this feels like a clean break, but without taking x-rays, it will depend on what we find in there. I am planning to place a couple of pins in this bone, and if we are lucky, this guy will walk out of here.”

“Do your best. That is all I can expect,” Larry said. 

“Plan on picking him up a little after noon, this surgery won’t take long, and he will recover pretty quickly,” I said.

We prepped the leg and draped it for surgery. I made a lateral approach to the femur with no problem. 

“I am planning to use both of those large quarter inch intramedullary pins,” I explained to Ruth.

“Wow! Why two pins,” she asked?

“This guy isn’t going to lay around for a few weeks. He is going to be up following Mom and gaining weight daily. We will try to get Larry to keep her in the barn for the first few days, but that is a bit of a two-edged sword. It will reduce his activity, but the incision will be kept cleaner out in the pasture. This repair has to be strong enough to support that activity. By stacking two pins side by side, we provide enough strength to hold the weight, and they will control any rotation at the fracture site.”

Once exposed, the fracture was a simple transverse fracture with no splintering of the bone. I placed both IM pins retrograde in the upper fragment, pushing them out through the top of the bone at the hip.

With the two pins in position and ready to be pushed into the distal fragment, I brought the fractured ends together and drove the first pin into place. When I finished seating the second pin, I was pleasantly surprised at how stable the fracture site was when I manipulated the leg.

“I think this is going to work pretty well,” I said to Ruth. “Now I just need to close this up and wake this guy up.”

The closure went well, and we recovered the calf in the large dog kennel.

“He is going be a lot bigger when we take those pins out in six weeks,” Ruth said.

“My guess is there is not going to be any taking those pins out. This guy will grow so much, those pins will be buried in the bone. That is probably a good thing because anesthesia is a much bigger problem in an older calf than in a newborn.”

“Why is that,” Ruth asked?

“In six weeks, this guy will have a rumen that is starting to function.  He will have to be starved out for 24 or 48 hours before anesthesia. Then we will need to use an endotracheal tube rather than just a mask. Not to speak of the fact that he will be much larger and harder to get on that table.”

The calf was on his feet when Larry returned to pick him up. 

“He looks pretty good, Doc. Better than I expected,” Larry said.

“If we can keep him restricted for a few days, that would be ideal. But if he can’t be in a clean stall, a small pasture would be better.”

“Yea, I think I can put him and his Mom in the small orchard behind the house for a time. That way, I can watch him better, and they won’t have to deal with the rest of the calves.”

“The other thing, Larry, those pins we put in this bone are going to stay there. When it comes time to slaughter this guy, you need to remember to tell the butcher that those pins are there. Otherwise, he is going to be pretty pissed when he runs his ban saw into them.”

The calf did exceptionally well. I stopped by a couple weeks later and took the sutures out, and you couldn’t tell anything had happened to the leg except for the incision. 

“I think you can turn them out with the herd and treat him like any other calf,” I said. 

The calf grew normally and became a fine market steer. He was close to 1100 pounds when he went to slaughter. And Larry brought the femur in to show me. The butcher had boned it out and carefully cut around it in the middle to expose the pins. Larry probably still has that bone and pins.

Photos by Larry Coulter

One Close Call 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I slowed down, looking for the driveway off Old Holley Road where Dr. Buhn had his cows.

Dr. Buhn, a local optometrist, was having me out to vaccinate the calves at the start of their weaning. I think several of the local professionals were using my services as I struggled to survive, waiting for the completion of the clinic building.

I was expecting to work with limited facilities. I was surprised when I pulled up to a pretty well-constructed corral system. All the calves were in the corral, and the momma cows were on the outside.

When I stepped out of the truck, a chorus of moos and bellows came from both sides of the fence. I always called it bellering. Whatever you call it, it is constant and loud. 

Ed met me with a handshake.

“I have my son here to help today,” Ed said. “I think we are pretty well set up and ready to go to work. Do you need any help with your stuff?”

“I just need someplace to set up alongside the chute,” I said. “Preferably, on the outside of the corral, so the calves don’t knock things over.”

“I am surprised at the racket this group puts out,” Ed said. “The neighbors will be tired of listening to it before it quiets down. It bothers everyone except my son, Ed. He is deaf, so it is all the same to him.”

“It will only last a couple of days,” I said. “Then they will be settled into their new routine. The calves will benefit the most from this, and when they go to the sale barn, they will be much less stressed.”

I got everything set up, and we went right to work. Old Ed ran the head gate, and young Ed kept the calves lined up in the crowding alley. 

It didn’t take long, and we were down to the last three calves. They were not so easy to get into the chute. Young Ed was getting frustrated and tired out. I grabbed my rope and climbed into the corral.

With the two of us, we finally ran one calf into the chute.

“Do you want to do this one now or get them all into the alley?” old Ed asked.

“I don’t want to be crawling over that fence every couple of minutes,” I said. “Just hold that guy in the chute, and we will get these next two in the alley.”

Around and around the corral, we chased the last two calves. Finally, we cornered the two at the entrance to the crowding alley. Young Ed waited a moment, and when the one steer looked into the alley, Ed rushed him and pushed him into the alley. The other steer pushed by me. Ed looked at me, and I motioned him to hold the calf up the alley. 

I took my rope and headed to the far corner to get the last calf. This calf was wild-eyed and didn’t know which way to run to escape my approach. He finally bolted to the right.

 Wrong move, buddy, I thought as I threw a perfect loop that fell over his head and cinched tight around his throat. I pulled the rope tight, and the calf bucked and bellowed. He continued to dance around on the end of the rope. I could hardly restrain him, but I bounced around the corral behind the bucking calf.

I thought he would tire himself and slow down, but I began to think I was the one who was going to wear out first. I started to look for a post to tie him. 

The calf made one more loop around the corral. He would buck and bawl every time I increased the tension on the rope. On this last loop, he headed into the crowding alley. I pulled hard on the rope, and the calf bucked and bellowed louder.

Young Ed was still concentrating on holding the second calf in the alley. He seemed oblivious to the goings on behind him. I wondered why Ed didn’t respond to the chaos behind him when I suddenly realized he didn’t hear a thing and wasn’t aware that he was about to be trampled by an ornery calf.

I wrapped the rope around my butt, planted my heels in the dirt, and leaned back with all my strength. The calf bucked at the same time. With my pull, the calf flipped over and landed on his back, not three feet from Ed. 

When the dirt and dust flew up, Ed realized something was happening behind him. He turned and looked and the situation. Both I and calf were on our backs in the dirt. Ed smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. I had no idea if he knew how close he had come to being trampled.

I got up and tied the calf to a post before it had scrambled to his feet.

We finished the two calves in the chute, and then I had old Ed hand me the injections over the fence while young Ed helped me hold the calf against the fence.

“That was a close call,” old Ed said. “You put a pretty good stop on that calf.”

“It is always the last one in the chute that causes all the problems,” I said. “He is going to market, but I would put a mark on his mother and send her along with him.”

“I am only in the cow business because I needed to do something with this property before it’s developed,” Ed said. “I think as soon as these momma cows are pregnant, they are probably going to the sale also.”

“That’s good. I guess she will be somebody else’s problem,” I said.

Photo by Ave Calvar Martinez on Pexels.