Herd Immunity: The dreaded TB test, day one

For our non-farming readers, a tuberculosis (TB) outbreak is just about the worst setback a livestock farmer can receive.

Sean Deere

Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life is an old proverb which can ring very true.

Farming, some say, is a profession that is either in you or is not and is surely a prime example of this proverb’s wise words.

It’s a hard work, with long hours, usually for low pay. Love is at the heart of it. Who couldn’t love bringing new life into the world, watching them grow and prosper or working out in the fresh air on a summer’s day?

I don’t think farmers would continue in the job if they woke up in the morning with a trepidation about getting on with their work. We look forward to every day with relish of what can be achieved before sundown – and often, especially in calving or silage season, after it.

However, I freely admit that there is one day of the year that we livestock farmers dread. This a date which causes even the more care-free welly-wearer to wake up in a cold sweat. I’m talking, of course, about TB test day.

Now to be completely accurate, the test is actually over two days - day one when the test is administered and day two, when the results are determined (to ‘read’ the test).

For our non-farming readers, a tuberculosis (TB) outbreak is just about the worst setback a livestock farmer can receive. ‘Reactors’ (animals that are deemed positive for TB) have to be culled and your herd is restricted, meaning you can’t buy or sell any livestock until you are deemed ‘clear’, which is achieved by having two back-to-back clear tests.

These tests must be 60 days apart (60 days from reactors are removed and then another 60 days after that) meaning, in a best case scenario, you would probably be looking at six months’ restrictions.

What is so bad about this? Well, in the business of livestock farming, being unable to sell your stock means cash flow dries up very quickly. Slaughter of factory fit livestock is allowed but for the vast majority of Irish suckler farmers who sell their weanlings every back end, a positive TB test means effective bankruptcy is staring you straight in the face.

D-Day, that dreaded time of the year, arrived for me last week. It had been invading my thoughts for a while – with the first cut complete and slurry spread, I had a couple of quietish weeks and sitting on the tractor or walking through the fields, a few times I found my wind wandering. Suffice to say, it doesn’t bear thinking about. If your herd is ‘down’, as we say, it is a very, very serious matter.

So off I headed on Monday morning and started to round up the herd. The vet had pencilled in a 9.30am start so I got at my work and had all stock penned in the home yard at 9am.

Another worry for me on test day was the fact that my herd is split into a couple of distinct categories, one of which is a small, autumn-calving grouping which are currently heavy in calf and need handling with care. These cows are due from August 7 on and a knock or bump now could have disastrous consequences for their unborn calf.

On the other side of the yard are the spring calvers with their offspring. The bulls have been removed from these cows and they should now be in calf again (hopefully) and again, a knock or bump could mean an empty cow at scanning time.

So, these are the little things that all combine to add to the stress of test day. So much can go wrong – best case scenario, things are left as they were and you can continue on. It’s not as if you have gained anything as such by a clear test.

And worst case scenario… Let’s not even go there.

Anyway, Monday morning arrived as I said and I was up at the crack of dawn to make preparations. I could feel those familiar butterflies in my stomach.

The vet duly landed, spot on 9.30am, and the process began. We (Mrs Deere and myself) loaded the chute carefully each time, taking care to handle the cows carefully and try not to get them hurt.

In fairness they are all fairly placid cows; I try not to hold on to any skittish cows for the most part anyway, for obvious reasons. In fact, the calves were almost more trouble as their smaller size can leave them troublesome to catch individually for testing.

The actual testing process itself was relatively pain free. So, after a couple of hours we were done and dusted for day one, which is akin to Saturday, “moving day”, at a golf Major. And we all know that the real business there doesn’t start till Sunday.

“Not so bad,” said the young vet as he washed his hands, “same time next week?”

“No bother,” I replied, and off she sped to her next job.

Suddenly, a crestfallen look came across the face of Mrs Deere as she remembered something.

“I’m not about next Monday, Sean,” she said.

“Ah sure, I’ll get someone to help me, it’ll be alright,” I replied.

Who would I get though? Enter, stage left, The Bad Farmer. Things were about to get very interesting…

To be continued.