“Yeah, Grandpa does things one way, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the right way. I learned that when Dad was taking all these classes.”
“These old timers have been doing things the same way for as long as they can remember, and a lot of them haven’t changed with the times. Fifty years ago, a good scrubbing with Dawn dish soap might’ve been enough to clean a trough—not necessarily the case now.”
By the time we pull up to the Nance Ranch, Caleb’s still talking, rattling off facts about cattle illnesses, symptoms, and possible treatments. I’m half-listening, half-focused on the scene ahead of us. The ranch sprawls out in front of us, acres of rolling pasture bordered by sturdy fencing. The main barn looks weathered but well-kept, and beyond it, I can see a small herd of cattle grazing in the distance.
Bob Nance is waiting for us near the barn, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. He’s a big man, broad-shouldered and gruff looking, with a face that’s seen its fair share of hard days. He doesn’t smile as I park the truck and step out.
“Hi, Mr. Nance. You may remember me, Doctor Sutton Bishop. This is my assistant Caleb Callahan. He’s helping me out today.”
Bob’s gaze flicks to Caleb, clearly unimpressed. “Helping, huh?”
“Yeah,” Caleb says, unfazed by Bob’s tone. “I’ve been learning a lot about cattle health lately. I might not look like much, but I know my stuff.”
Bob grunts. “We’ll see about that.”
I step in before Bob can dismiss him outright. “You mentioned some cattle with symptoms—nasal discharge, fever, lethargy?”
“Yeah,” Bob says, turning toward the pasture. “Started with one cow a couple days ago. Now there’s three of ’em. I’ve got them corralled off, but I can show you.”
“Let’s take a look,” I say, grabbing my gear from the back of the truck.
Caleb trails behind me, still talking, though now he’s directing his comments at Bob. “You know, isolating the sick cows as soon as you notice symptoms is really smart. When did you first corral them?”
Bob gives him a sideways glance, his expression somewhere between irritation and amusement. “The first time I saw the symptoms. I probably wouldn’t have taken it as seriously if I didn’t hear about the other ranches having issues. Something like a runny nose isn’t always a problem.”
“Yeah,” Caleb says earnestly. “It’s good you acted fast, probably saved your herd.”
Bob snorts, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You trying to be a vet or somethin’?”
“Nope,” Caleb replies cheerfully. “Just curious. Plus, I help my dad with our cattle, so I’ve seen a lot.”
Bob grumbles something under his breath but doesn’t argue. I catch his eye and give him a small smile. “He’s sharp. You’ll see.”
We make our way out to the pasture, where the cattle are fenced off into a small space. It doesn’t take long to spot the sick ones. They’re easy to pick out—heads drooping, movements sluggish, and a telltale discharge crusted around their noses.
“There,” Bob says, pointing. “Those three.”
I nod, already making mental notes. “You did well to corral them, but I think we should take them somewhere away from the rest of the herd. It’s more work to keep them so close, just because you have to work ten times harder to ensure nothing they touch is going near the healthy cattle. For instance, if you’re cleaning out their trough near the healthy ones, the splash could go into the soil and spread more bacteria.”
Bob sighs. “That’s gonna be a pain, but it’ll be more of a pain to have the issues you’re suggesting.”
I fully believe that we’re dealing with bovine respiratory disease, but not all the symptoms are black and white. Until we get confirmation from the samples, I’m not ruling anything out.
“It’s necessary,” I say firmly. “If this spreads, you could lose a lot more than three cows.”
Caleb chimes in, his voice confident. “We can help you set it up. I think it would be smart to keep this spot roped off still, though.”
“Very good, Caleb. I was just about to say that. I don’t think this is being transferred through the soil, but it’s a risk we can’t take.”
We spend the next hour working together to set up a quarantine area near the barn. Caleb dives right in, helping me haul panels and set up water troughs. He talks the whole time, filling the silence with facts, observations, and the occasional joke. At first, Bob seems annoyed, but as the minutes tick by, I can see him warming up to the kid.
Caleb helps me get the affected cattle in the squeeze chute so that we can take blood, fecal, and urine samples. He and Bob sanitize it, and then I test a few of the healthy cattle, too. I want to see if the seemingly healthy cattle are showing the illness before the physical symptoms become present. I tag the healthy cattle that I’ve tested, and Bob will check them to see if symptoms start. If the lab tests show me that they have markers,then we’ll have to treat the entire herd, rather than just the ones showing symptoms. Not every ranch will be able to afford to do so.
By the time we’re packing up to leave, Bob is asking me questions about treatments, symptoms, and what to watch for. “If I think of anything else, I’ll give you a call,” he says.
“Sounds good,” I reply, shaking his hand. “Keep an eye on the rest of the herd and let me know if anything changes.”
As Caleb and I climb back into the truck, he’s still talking, his voice bright with excitement. “That went pretty well, huh? I think he liked me.”
