Wellie's Castration Story

When we decided last summer that Wellie would be castrated, I talked to our vet about when and how to do it.  He advised doing it when Wellie was 4-5 months old, by cutting rather than banding.  He wanted to wait until Wellie was old enough for his vaccines and fly season was past.

He said he would give Wellie a shot of tetanus antitoxin as well as a tetanus vaccine (and his other vaccines) at the same time.  In the absence of a previous tetanus vaccine, the antitoxin would prevent any chance of tetanus while the vaccine built up immunity over a two week period.  We had heard tragic stories about people who castrated calves and gave tetanus vaccines, only to have the calves die of tetanus before the vaccines could build up immunity.

Unfortunately, life got in the way for the vet and us, and we were unable to get him here when planned.  Finally, I decided that at 8 1/2 months Wellie really needed to be castrated, and I called another vet.  (We like to keep good relations with several vets for cases just like this when one can't make it.)  The second vet also prefers castrating as less painful, uses the same tetanus prevention protocol, and agreed to use a local anesthetic.  So we set a date for the deed.

On Feb. 11 we put Wellie into the squeeze chute.

The vet folded down several of the squeeze bars so he could reach Wellie and administered the local anesthetic.  He gave it time to take effect while he gave vaccines to Wellie and Ebony.

I saw that the vet used a tool called a Newberry knife and made a slit in the back of the scrotum.  After that I went up by Wellie's head and did not see the actual operation.  I learned later that some vets cut off the bottom portion of the scrotum to allow for drainage, but ours made an incision in the middle.  It bled a little, but not much, and the vet said it would swell up and remain swollen for several days.  When I asked about disinfecting the site, he said I could use 1/2% iodine, so I sprayed some on.

During the operation, Royal came over to check on Wellie.  Of course, when it was his turn later to get in the squeeze chute to get a magnet, he did NOT want to go in!  I assured him that considering the per capita price we had paid for his testicles, they were quite safe!

Wellie jumped more over his immunizations than he did over the local.  He struggled a bit during the surgery, but less than I have seen cows fight over a shot.  Although the vet says they have more pain with banding, I don't think there is a painless way to castrate.

I know some farms do not castrate meat animals, but we simply do not have enough pastures to keep intact bull calves separate from cows and heifers.  As he has gotten older, Wellie has engaged in more head-butting challenges with Royal and Sir Loin, the older steer.  Being so small, he gets pushed around, and although he has never been hurt, I hope that he will now act less like a bull.

I do not like castration.  I wish it didn't have to be done, and I'm sure Wellie did, too.  But if we are going to be responsible breeders, we have to make sure that a bull calf that is not breeding quality is not breeding our cows and heifers.

I kept a frequent eye on Wellie to be sure he was okay.  The rest of that day and the next, he was moving slowly (to be expected), but was nursing, eating hay and chewing his cud.  Then on the morning of the 13th, I found him laying partly on his side with his legs spread out as if to keep them off his swollen scrotum.  When I got him up to check on him, his rumen was hollow (showing he had not eaten a lot of hay), and he looked peaked.  Half of Siobhan's udder was full, so he had obviously not nursed much, and I decided to take his temperature.  It was 24° out, so Wellie might be expected to register lower than the bovine normal of 101.5°, but his temperature was 103.9°.

I was quite concerned and called the vet, who had gone out of town!  Not only that, his partner does not do farm calls, and he didn't have another vet to cover for him.  So I called the original vet I had hoped to have do the castration.  He agreed that Wellie's temperature was too high and said if I would meet him, he would give me an antibiotic.  I made the two-hour round trip and came home with Excede, a long-lasting antibiotic, as well as a bottle of Banamine to relieve pain and fever.  Pain inhibits animals from healing, and when they are given pain relief, they tend to heal more quickly.

Herb was gone all day, and I was pretty sure from previous experience giving shots to cattle, that I would not be able to do it alone, even with the squeeze chute.  So I called on our neighbor, Randy, who came over with his son to help.  Excede is very thick and must be given sub-cutaneously behind the ear--never in a vein or muscle--using a large-bore needle.  Banamine goes in the neck muscle with a smaller needle.  Wellie objected strenuously enough, even in the chute, that I was very thankful for help holding him.

Randy, who grew up with cattle and had seen many castrations, felt that the bulge of tissue protruding from Wellie's incision was not normal.  I had no frame of reference at all, but tended to agree with him.  When I posted a photo later, other cattle owners agreed.  Once Wellie was medicated, I took a bucket of hot water and cleaned the incision of dried exudate, making sure it could continue to drain as necessary.  I also applied oil of oregano around the incision on the advice of my family cow friends.  Within a couple hours, Wellie was obviously feeling better, eating better and had nursed Siobhan out.

Herb and I gave him Banamine the next morning to make sure he continued to feel well and eat well.  He objected much more vigorously than he had the day before, so I decided that if he felt that good, he didn't need any more Banamine.

Wellie is back to normal now, and his scrotal swelling is gone.  He's eating well and acting lively.  Here he is visiting with his buddy Sir Loin at the barnyard gate.

Today Wellie wanted to nurse, and Siobhan pushed him away several times.  (That's another story.)  In a fit of temper, he charged one of the ducks.  The snow in the barnyard was slippery and crusty with ice, so Wellie hunched his back and crow-hopped across the barnyard, landing each jump on all four feet, pursuing the hapless duck who fled with flapping wings as fast as his short little legs could go.

Without a camera, all I could do was stand there and laugh.  The duck escaped with everything intact except his dignity, and I was just happy to see Wellie feeling so fine.

For Love of Romeo

In July 2001, we returned to the States after eleven years in France, leaving behind two wonderful horses, Tsar and Vanille.  Herb promised Kara and me that we could have horses in the States, and we didn't wait long to take him up on that!  I found my Angel in November.  The lady who ran the horse farm where I boarded Angel promised to look for a horse that Kara could use for jumping.

On December 1, 2001, Kara saddled up Just Romeo, a five-year old registered Quarter Horse who had been in the University of Georgia equine program, both English and Western.  Kara was allowed to try Romeo out for a week before deciding to buy him, and it just so happened that a jumping competition was taking place that day at the horse farm.

Kara and Romeo hit it off immediately and began collecting ribbons.

Six ribbons out of seven competitions was not bad for a first ride!  Two weeks later we took Kara back to the horse farm to meet her 13th birthday present.  It wasn't much . . . it was "Just Romeo!"

I was usually riding Angel at the same time Kara was riding Romeo, so I don't have too many photos of them, but I did get some when they did a Ride-a-Test at a local polo venue, Bendabout Farm, in April 2003. 

Although the jumps were low, Romeo performed beautifully as always.  Jumping was his and Kara's real love.

Neither Romeo nor Kara cared much for dressage, which was (unfortunately) what the lady who ran the farm preferred.  She tried her hardest to extend Romeo's trot, which was very comfortable trot, but tended to resemble a Western jog.

Romeo made a reliable trail horse and a fun family horse, too.  For Hallowe'en that year, my daughter-in-law Monique dressed up as "Juliet" and rode her "Romeo" in the farm Hallowe'en parade.

No matter who was riding him, Romeo was, pure and simple, a "love."

In July 2004, we trailered Romeo, Angel and our two dogs all the way out to far West Texas--a long-time dream of Kara's and mine.

My brother- and sister-in-law always generously provided horses for us to ride when we visited, but having our own horses with us made that trip very special.

They both adapted to the rough west Texas country as if they'd been born there . . .

. . . although they both also found a new affinity for every tank and water hole to cool off in.

Romeo was alert to whatever he heard moving through the brush nearby, but as steady as always.

When we decided to move Angel and Romeo from the first farm, the place we found to board did not have a riding ring for jumping.  Along with Kara's changing interests as she grew older and found new friends, this meant that she wasn't riding much any more.  We thought about selling Romeo, but we hated to part with such a good horse.

That was how, in March 2005, Romeo headed out to west Texas to live on a family ranch.  It wasn't so much a "goodbye" as a "see you later."  We did see Romeo several more times when we were out there, and Kara got to enjoy riding him.  But then we all got older and life got in the way, and for seven years we didn't make it to Texas.  

When we finally did, Kara had a poignant reunion with Romeo.  It was clear that we weren't the only ones that had aged.  Romeo wasn't a five-year old youngster any more, but an eighteen-year old senior horse.  He was fine and healthy, but Kara realized that sooner or later he would die on the range and be eaten by buzzards and coyotes, because that's the way things happen out there.  She realized that she wanted him to come Home. 

And that is how, at 2 a.m. on Monday, Sept. 8, Romeo came home.  The commercial hauler had a pretty adventurous time getting his semi-horse trailer down our lower drive and up a hill in the pasture to turn around, but everyone made it safely.  The driver and I walked Romeo up to the barn and got him settled for the night.  (Kara was still in West Texas, having had to delay her flight to allow her to be there to get Romeo loaded.)  The next morning Romeo's new "harem" was waiting as close to his stall as they could get, his old friend Angel (the black mare) eager to greet him.

Romeo isn't the best traveler, although he does much better in an air-ride commercial trailer, so we'll be feeding him up a bit as he settles in and gets used to his new life.  He probably thinks we dragged him from Heaven to Hell, it's been so horribly humid here compared to what he's used to!

On the advice of our equine vet, Dr. White, Romeo will be in quarantine for three weeks until any danger of shipping fever is past.  He's already gotten his immunizations to protect him against Georgia's illnesses.

Meanwhile, Julie, Angel and Brandy are waiting impatiently--for love of Romeo.

A Farmer's Best Friend

A farmer's best friend is a . . . good vet!  And you thought I was going to say "his dog," right?  Well, a good dog like Misty is a great partner, but nothing can take the place of a good vet.  Quite a few of my cattle-breeding friends have lamented their lack of one.

Meet our new vet, Dr. Patrick Tyree.  He came to our aid when I called every vet within two hours of here, trying to find one who would help me treat Siobhan's mastitis.  (Oddly enough, I found my horse vet during a crisis, too.  He's been our vet now for more than 5 years.  I expect Dr. Tyree will be around for a long time to come, as well.)

Like pretty much every large animal vet around here, Dr. Tyree drives a white pick-up with a mini-clinic in back.  Like pretty much every large animal vet the world over, he spends a lot of time in that truck, getting from one patient to the next.
 
One thing I learned about Dr. Tyree is that he isn't afraid to get up close and personal with a cow.  He gave shots to five of ours and I regret to say that four of them did their best to impersonate bovine broncos at the local rodeo with the two of us along for the ride. Another thing about Dr. Tyree is that I could tell he really likes his patients just by the way he talked to them and handled them.  That's something money can't buy!

Finally--and the reason that finding him is such a blessing--Dr. Tyree and his family actually raise, train and sell family milk cows!  In our area, most vets prefer to treat only household pets.  Those that do treat livestock almost exclusively treat beef cattle and have little or no experience with dairy issues.  Of course our Dexters are dual-purpose, but when we're milking them, they are dairy cattle and can develop dairy issues like mastitis and milk fever.  It's a relief to have a vet that not only knows how to treat dairy animals, but actually "gets" the whole family cow concept!

Your vet is someone you hope to see only once or twice a year, when immunizations are due to be updated or a calf needs dehorning or castrating.  But when a problem occurs--and it will because that's life on a farm--it's a blessing to have a knowledgeable, caring vet on speed dial.  It's a blessing to have a vet tell you, "They say you can wait six hours before you need to call a vet for a cow that's having her second calf, but if it's a cow you care about, I'd call after two hours, even at night.  If you go back out and find a calf, you can always call me back and tell me to go back to bed."

That kind of vet is a farmer's best friend--and a cow's, too!

T-Bone Gets Justice

Yesterday's post ended with T-Bone escaping without his injections.  Herb put some feed in the round pen and left both the gates open overnight so the cattle would be able to go in and eat, thus getting the idea that the round pen is a nice place.

This afternoon we went down armed with feed, raw sweet potato peels, cooked sweet potato discards, injections, halters, and camera to attempt to raise our score to 4 out of 4.

There really wasn't much for us to do.  We used our cattle-panel-sweep-gate to cut down the size of the round pen.  T-Bone is afraid of Sara and a little afraid of us, so he took the route that was farthest from all of us . . . right down the chute toward the head gate!

When he got to the end, he reared up on his hind legs and tried to jump through the higher, wider part.  Of course, all that went through was his head.  When his shoulders hit the closed gate, he dropped down to all fours--right where we wanted him!  All we had to do was put a large fence post behind him to keep him from moving so much.

First, I put one of our great halters from Mini Cattle Supply on him so Herb could try to hold his head still.

Then I pulled out the shots and set to work.  T-Bone has no extra flesh at the base of his neck, so I had to pinch some up.  I got the first shot for free.  Then T-Bone realized that a pinch meant an "owie," and he began struggling every time I tried to get some skin.

Some of the second shot ran down his skin so I had to try a new stick.  More bucking and struggling, and I got a hit . . . on me!  Fortunately, I didn't really inject anything.  The same thing happened on the third shot, too.  I got some nice little veins (on me) because the blood was really pouring out.

I figure I'm dewormed and immunized to blackleg and brucellosis now!  I just hope T-Bone doesn't have mad cow disease!

Speaking of which, here's a tool to check and see if your cow has mad cow disease.  Moo-hoo-hoo!