Jason Tessier receives a call at least once a month asking him to end the life of a sick animal whose owner can’t find a veterinarian.
His own herd of 30 dairy and beef cows has been cared for by four veterinarians in 10 years as professionals retire, burn out or stop treating large animals.
Tessier hires his current vet for things he could treat himself, just to maintain a relationship in the hope that they will respond when he needs them. Still, in emergency cases, the veterinarian sometimes cannot travel to Tessier’s farm in Skowhegan for eight hours, while the ailment becomes more painful for the animal and more costly for him.
“When you have that animal down and you know you can save it but you can’t because you don’t have the resources, that’s very stressful,” he said.
Maine farmers and homesteaders have struggled to access veterinary care for decades. The shortage of veterinarians who treat large animals is further complicated by the small, dispersed nature of Maine livestock operations, according to state veterinarian Stefanie Bolas.
A recent federal rule prohibiting the over-the-counter sale of antibiotics for animals has also increased the demand for veterinary visits. With more people inexperienced in raising livestock at home after the pandemic, unable to get a veterinarian or facing higher costs when they do, some are teaching themselves medical procedures and turning to Facebook for guidance.
Lack of access to veterinary care for livestock could have a negative impact on the food supply and human health, Bolas said. Diseases can spread, improper care can harm animals, and so can medicines from untrustworthy sources.
Eighteen veterinarians care for thousands of animals in Maine. Five deal only with horses and five focus primarily on pets and small animals.
Fewer veterinarians have dedicated themselves to treating large animals across the country, facing high student debt burdens and more challenging conditions in rural practice. National and state loan repayment programs attempting to bring them to certain areas have had some success in Maine over the past decade.
Still, farm veterinarians make less money than their small animal counterparts. Their days are long, demanding and involve hundreds of miles of daily travel.
Since the U.S. Food and Drug Administration changed rules on over-the-counter products last June to reduce antibiotic resistance, veterinarians must legally have a “veterinarian-client-patient relationship” to prescribe them, which It involves in-person visits to at least one farm. once a year.
The new antibiotic law is a two-sided coin for Jeffrey Vigue, owner of Whitefield-based North Star Veterinary Services. He felt that antibiotic use was becoming “rampant and irresponsible” and supports the change.
But over the past year, a flood of new people began requesting their services. Vigue stopped seeing patients who were not clients because he physically could not visit them all, he said. When the busy season ends this fall, you may add new customers. For now, he regularly drives up to 300 miles a day.
Encourages settlers to find and establish a relationship with a veterinarian before bringing animals home and before they have an emergency.
Some farmers had those relationships with veterinarians who are no longer available. That’s happened repeatedly at Tessier Farm, and it’s a reality for Leslie Stevens, who raises more than 650 assorted poultry, 30 sheep and occasionally cattle at Sturgeon Creek Farm in Eliot.
She has been looking for another veterinarian since hers announced his retirement 18 months ago. Stevens worries that small ailments that people once treated with antibiotics, such as hoof rot, will turn into serious or even fatal illnesses.
She stocked up on antibiotics last year and has been learning basic veterinary procedures with her daughter, who is in nursing school. Stevens feels exceptionally lucky to have that education. She sees her peers, especially beginning farmers, turning to social media to diagnose and treat her animals, which often don’t survive.
This is happening across the state, according to Rachel White, a livestock educator with the University of Maine Cooperative Extension. People also trade antibiotics with each other and, in at least one case, use illegal medications.
That’s not limited to people without vets; White had a lamb that needed life-or-death penicillin, but his veterinarian was not available and another farmer provided the antibiotic.
In a recent informal survey conducted by White, livestock producers ranked health education as their top need, twice as high as other options such as pasture management and nutrition.
The extension has hired staff to expand basic health education programs for beginners. White said his job is to “bridge the gap” between farmers and veterinarians. While he cannot give medical advice, he can promote practices and management aimed at reducing the need to call a veterinarian.
She once wanted to enter the field herself, but saw the toll it took on her own veterinarian. The story was similar for Stevens’ daughter, who chose nursing school instead.
It is also difficult for those who raise livestock to see the creatures in their care suffer. Ellie Barker, a farmer in Winter Harbor, lost three animals because she couldn’t find a veterinarian. She remembered getting her pigs drunk so he could give them stitches or reduce her pain while she waited for someone to come kill them. Barker doesn’t want to act as a veterinarian, but she has to do it.
“It’s the hardest part of everything. It sucks because I want everyone to be okay,” she said. “You’re like killing yourself to have animals.”
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