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Authors: Gillian Hick
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was ninth in line, I took the first seat at the next table and busied myself buttering a scone while wondering who I would be seated beside. I didnât have long to wait as I saw the person after me turn towards my table and then, stopping in his tracks, turn away to go to a third table. I watched in silence as each vet that followed joined the previous one at that table, ignoring me where I sat alone. Finally, thankfully, Lucy, alias Emma, came over and smiled gratefully as she sat down beside me.
âFriendly lot, arenât they?â I offered, after we had introduced ourselves.
âYou said it,â she replied. âYou should try working with them.â
Clearly, despite Lucyâs addition, we were no more attractive and the remaining delegates pulled the chairs from our table and squeezed them in around the others. It was certainly a closed club.
If I hadnât been so stunned, I might almost have laughed at their ignorance as their loud, brash voices recountedtheir tales of wonder in the veterinary world, each more interested in their own story than anybody elseâs. At any other courses that I had attended, the breaks usually found most people talking about the cases that had gone wrong and trying to pick up tips from others, so that a break almost became like a professional confessional, with mutual commiserations and sometimes advice to follow. It seemed, however, that in the equine world, there were no such misfortunes or bad days.
It wasnât until the talk at the next table came around to the poor fertility rates that seemed to be plaguing horse breeders since the previous season that Lucy began to prick up her ears. Having spent two of her four seasons in New Zealand working exclusively in equine fertility, she obviously had an interest in and considerable knowledge of the topic. Although each member of the table outlined the success of their techniques, none could deny that it had been a poor season, with many of the top yards performing badly.
Although it was difficult to drown out the heated debates at the other tables, Lucy began to talk with increasing enthusiasm about her experience during her stud seasons as home and abroad. It turned out that the mini lecture in equine reproduction she gave me over all the breaks through the day became the most useful and practical thing I learnt during the entire course.
The second module the following month was purely surgical and, with no surgical faculties to speak of, nor the likelihood of there ever being any in Riverside, it was unlikely that I would get to use any of the knowledge sobegrudgingly offered during the day. The third module confined itself to dermatology, never a rewarding subject as skin cases are notoriously difficult to treat. I was frustrated on the long drive home, realising that I hadnât learnt anything useful that I could put into practice and change what I had been doing up until now. The fourth and fifth modules were to be run as a two-day event over a weekend . On the Friday evening, when I arrived home from work, Molly greeted me with a thin, drawn-out wail, a high temperature and an unusual-looking rash, which, in Crumlin hospital in the early hours of the morning, was eventually declared to be an undiagnosed virus.
On the Sunday morning as were being discharged, thankfully with Molly back in full spirits, although I myself was still shattered, I vaguely wondered how the talk on foal medicine was going and ironically wondered if any one had missed me. It turned out that I need not have worried , as Lucy and myself kept in touch, and from then on I ended up ringing her for advice, which was always freely given, when presented with any unusual horse case.
I wasnât surprised when, two years later, she left the hallowed ground of Mike OâDee and set up her own highly successful practice, specialising solely in equine reproduction.
CHAPTER SIX
THE BALD EAGLE
I feel that birds get a rough deal when
âFriendly lot, arenât they?â I offered, after we had introduced ourselves.
âYou said it,â she replied. âYou should try working with them.â
Clearly, despite Lucyâs addition, we were no more attractive and the remaining delegates pulled the chairs from our table and squeezed them in around the others. It was certainly a closed club.
If I hadnât been so stunned, I might almost have laughed at their ignorance as their loud, brash voices recountedtheir tales of wonder in the veterinary world, each more interested in their own story than anybody elseâs. At any other courses that I had attended, the breaks usually found most people talking about the cases that had gone wrong and trying to pick up tips from others, so that a break almost became like a professional confessional, with mutual commiserations and sometimes advice to follow. It seemed, however, that in the equine world, there were no such misfortunes or bad days.
It wasnât until the talk at the next table came around to the poor fertility rates that seemed to be plaguing horse breeders since the previous season that Lucy began to prick up her ears. Having spent two of her four seasons in New Zealand working exclusively in equine fertility, she obviously had an interest in and considerable knowledge of the topic. Although each member of the table outlined the success of their techniques, none could deny that it had been a poor season, with many of the top yards performing badly.
Although it was difficult to drown out the heated debates at the other tables, Lucy began to talk with increasing enthusiasm about her experience during her stud seasons as home and abroad. It turned out that the mini lecture in equine reproduction she gave me over all the breaks through the day became the most useful and practical thing I learnt during the entire course.
The second module the following month was purely surgical and, with no surgical faculties to speak of, nor the likelihood of there ever being any in Riverside, it was unlikely that I would get to use any of the knowledge sobegrudgingly offered during the day. The third module confined itself to dermatology, never a rewarding subject as skin cases are notoriously difficult to treat. I was frustrated on the long drive home, realising that I hadnât learnt anything useful that I could put into practice and change what I had been doing up until now. The fourth and fifth modules were to be run as a two-day event over a weekend . On the Friday evening, when I arrived home from work, Molly greeted me with a thin, drawn-out wail, a high temperature and an unusual-looking rash, which, in Crumlin hospital in the early hours of the morning, was eventually declared to be an undiagnosed virus.
On the Sunday morning as were being discharged, thankfully with Molly back in full spirits, although I myself was still shattered, I vaguely wondered how the talk on foal medicine was going and ironically wondered if any one had missed me. It turned out that I need not have worried , as Lucy and myself kept in touch, and from then on I ended up ringing her for advice, which was always freely given, when presented with any unusual horse case.
I wasnât surprised when, two years later, she left the hallowed ground of Mike OâDee and set up her own highly successful practice, specialising solely in equine reproduction.
CHAPTER SIX
THE BALD EAGLE
I feel that birds get a rough deal when
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