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February 20, 2005 The Associated Press Tammy Fetig, left, assists veterinarian Dr. Colleen Thorp in treating a 3-day-old lamb named Carter at the Maple River Animal Clinic in Alanson. In northern Michigan and many rural areas across the nation, the availability of veterinarians willing and able to treat farm animals both large and small is increasingly uncertain. Vet shortage a looming problemThere's more money in treating small animalsBy JOHN FLESHERThe Associated Press BEAR CREEK TOWNSHIP -- Dr. Colleen Thorp arrives for a house call wearing heavy overalls, rubber boots and a chin-strapped hood. Lugging a medicine kit, she lets herself inside and spots an emergency case: a mother struggling to give birth. "Hi, heifer girl! Having a little trouble here?" is Thorp's greeting to her patient, a black-and-white Holstein cow crouched in a stall. The calf's two front hooves are visible as the doctor reaches inside the mother's birth canal, breaks the water sac and checks the baby's head size. "We'd better pull it," she tells farmer Matt Sterly. "That's one huge calf." Looping chains around the calf's front legs, which otherwise would be too slippery to grasp, Thorp tugs and twists, exhorting mom and baby like a coach: "C'mon, do your magic!" Finally the newborn bull plops onto the barn floor, lying motionless as Thorp gently massages his slimy chest and tickles his nose. "He couldn't have lived much longer. He's just exhausted," she reports. "But he'll be fine." The story ends happily because Thorp was in the right place at the right time -- on Sterly's farm in this Emmet County township near Petoskey. But in northern Michigan and many rural areas across the nation, the availability of veterinarians willing to treat large farm animals is increasingly uncertain. As older practitioners retire, younger vets show less interest in large-animal care, creating what some in the profession describe as a growing shortage. Farm organizations are worried, and agriculture experts say the problem could affect the nation's ability to handle outbreaks of catastrophic animal diseases. "We do see a trend and it's quite alarming," says Ray Stock, a Washington, D.C., lobbyist for the American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA). His group is among sponsors of a Kansas State University study to determine the extent of the problem. Thorp, who has practiced for 17 years since graduating from the Michigan State University vet school, needs no convincing. She tries to stay within 35 miles of her office in the Emmet County village of Alanson, but often gets pleas for help from farther away -- especially during spring calving season. "People will say, 'I don't know what to do; there are no vets here,"' she says, steering her sport utility vehicle toward another family farm. "I advise them to buy a trailer and truck and bring 'em up here. I feel for them, but there's only so much I can do." Thorp and her partner, Dr. Holly Howard, devote two days a week to routine farm calls. They'll make emergency visits on other days and treat livestock brought to their office. The rest of their time is spent on household pet or "small-animal" care -- the only medicine that many veterinarians will practice. Of 71,116 AVMA-member vets in the United States last year, only about 22 percent treated large farm animal such as cattle, pigs and sheep at least some of the time. In 1986, the earliest year for which statistics are available, more than 45 percent of the organization's 32,338 members provided at least part-time large animal care. So while the overall number of vets dealing with large animals rose during that period -- from 14,725 to 15,903 -- their share of the total steadily declined. And only 8,684 vets, or 12 percent of last year's total, treated large animals entirely or mostly. The situation is scary in South Dakota, where "we have five cows for every man, woman and child," said Dr. Sam Holland, the state veterinarian. "What do you do when your ranch is 70 miles from town and there's only one vet in town, and during the calving season the vet may be called to go three different directions at the same time?" Holland says. "There have been cases where ranchers have lost some livestock because they just couldn't get medical attention in a timely way." The shortage showed in Michigan when state and federal veterinarians were needed to help test cattle because of a recent bovine tuberculosis outbreak. "We just didn't have enough vets to handle the workload," said Ernie Birchmeier, a livestock specialist with the Michigan Farm Bureau. In part, the shortfall reflects the decline of the traditional rural lifestyle. As the number of farms shrinks, so does the pool of veterinarians who grew up in the country around cows and pigs. "The majority of veterinary students today come from urban centers and that's where they want to live," says Janver Krehbiel, a senior associate dean at Michigan State's vet school. An AVMA survey of graduates from the nation's veterinary schools last year found about 25 percent willing to devote at least part time to large animals -- down from 36 percent a decade earlier. Among that minority is Jennifer Wiley, who finishes at Michigan State this spring. She was raised on a dairy farm in Hillsdale County and wants to care for cattle. "I have a genuine love and concern for cows," she says. "I feel the same way about cows that most people feel about cats and dogs." Money is another obstacle in the quest for more rural livestock vets. Large-animal practice has a reputation as less lucrative than small-animal care, even though an AVMA study in 2002 found the mean earnings for specialists in either were about $84,000 a year. But vets with a mixed clientele, a common arrangement in rural areas, earned about $11,000 less than the specialists. Dr. Dennis Paull, a northern Michigan veterinarian with a mixed practice, said the disparity is one reason he may abandon large animal care. He charges $30 for a farm call, but transportation and other costs gobble up much of the profit. In the time it takes to drive a 40-mile round trip and treat a sick cow, he could handle several pet cases. Besides, he says, the owner of a beloved dog is more inclined to spend $600 to fix its blown-out knee than is a farmer to invest in surgery for a sow destined for slaughter. "There's much less of an emotional tie," says Paull, of Cheboygan. Congress in 2003 approved legislation to provide college loan forgiveness for newer veterinarians and students willing to work in underserved areas and disciplines such as large animal care. The typical vet school graduate leaves school with $80,000 in debt. But the program hasn't been funded -- and President Bush included no money for it in his recently released 2006 budget. A few states have debt relief programs, including Pennsylvania and Texas. South Dakota has no vet school, but offers tuition assistance for residents who earn veterinary degrees at Iowa State University and return home to practice. Thorp, 43, who is recruiting another partner, isn't optimistic that such programs will work. She says few young people today will put up with the hassles of large animal medicine: long hours, middle-of-the-night emergencies, dirty and physically demanding labor. She's been kicked a few times, and suffered a cracked rib a couple of years ago in a run-in with a cow. Driving home after her day of farm calls, Thorp has blood and manure stains on her overalls. She has performed rectal exams on dozens of cows ("I think it's cool -- loved it in school and I still do"), castrated four young bulls and dehorned another after coaxing them into a holding chute, changed a bandage on a skittish horse with a cut leg and prescribed medication for a wheezy 22-year-old mare with chronic allergies. Although weary, Thorp is chipper. She grew up on a small family farm and decided as an 8-year-old that she would be a vet. "I went to my class reunion and I was the only person at my table still doing large animal," she says. "One of my friends said, 'I can't believe you're stupid enough to still be doing that.' I guess it's like being a farmer -- it's either in your blood or it's not. It's been in mine from the beginning." w/box: Shortage facts Facts about the large animal veterinarian shortage: - In 1986, more than 45 percent of American Veterinary Medical Association members cared for large animals at least part-time, and about 6 percent treated them exclusively. In 2004, about 22 percent treated large animals at least part-time and 4 percent exclusively. - About 50 percent of AVMA members deal only with small animals, and nearly two-thirds treat them at least part-time. - In 1994, about 36 percent of new veterinary school graduates said they would treat large animals at least part-time. Last year, only 25 percent were willing. And some of those said they'd devote no more than 20 percent of their practices to large animals. - Other veterinarian categories registered by the AMVA include specialists in horses, poultry, exotic animals or wildlife, aquatic and marine animals. - Study in 2002 showed veterinarians practicing exclusively large or small animal care had roughly the same mean earnings: around $84,000. Meaning earnings of those in mixed practices, including predominantly large animal, about $73,000. - Mean starting salary for new vets in private practice around $50,000 last year. Typical vet school graduate leaves school $80,000 in debt.
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