Keeping farms clear of bTB – a matter of luck?

I suppose, deep down, most of us like to be liked. If we don’t, it’s almost a bit odd – a sort of masochism. I like to be liked, although I know people who don’t like me, but in return I don’t like them – so no one’s at a loss.

Truth be told, I’ve been feeling a bit of an outsider for a few years now. An important part of my life is going to the village pub. The best night to go is Thursday nights. There is always a table of us who are either farmers or farm workers – and we gossip. It’s largely farming gossip, although we are quite good at gossip of other sorts as well.

Our visits are such a regular occurrence, some call it “farmers’ night” – we farmers call it “thirsty Thursday”. If I tell people about farmers’ night, they are envious of it and say how lucky we are. I don’t know how long it can keep going – it will be difficult because there are a lot more retired people in our village and its environs than there are people working.

BTB discussions

A significant element of our gossip centres on bTB. Either the participants around the table or their near neighbours have been variously affected, to the extent it has seemed every week there has been talk of a local test; a local pass or failure – and that’s why I’ve felt a bit of an outsider. We’ve been clear of TB for a few years now. This has been very much against the local flow, to the extent it has been difficult to join in these TB discussions – I have felt a bit out of it all. Not that I’m complaining; not that freedom from TB is not a happy place to be, but as a TB discussion draws to a close, someone often asks me: “You still clear?”, I’ve said “yes” and there have been eyes looking at me suspiciously over pint glasses.

Am I some sort of chosen one? I doubt it. So why have we been so lucky? Because luck is all it is.

We do take some biosecurity measures – we have no animal-to-animal contact with neighbours’ cattle. One way we achieve this is by creating margins along boundaries. Farmers are expected to put a small percentage of their arable and temporary grass acreage into what is called “greening”. One of the ways to achieve this acreage is by establishing field margins that are left untouched by conventional field operations. These are often referred to as “wildlife corridors” – a description much-loved by the great and good of conservation. We have one small field on the boundary where it is not practical to have a margin – we never put cattle in there, it’s as simple as that. Because our “free” status has been down to luck, I’ve never been complacent about it.

‘Black cloud’

The annual TB test has always been a “black cloud” on the horizon, drawing ever closer. The black cloud has been so big and so important to the impact it will have on business, it is easy to forget other little clouds along the way.

Although the 12-month test is the very big one, there is also a test every time you send a cow off the farm at the end of her working life. We sent such an old cow away recently and it proved a rude awakening to the reality of the TB world – she was found to have TB lesions. This would normally precipitate a whole herd test, but ours was due shortly anyway.

This cow going down was a warning sign, because an in-calf heifer went down at that test. Subsequent tests on the old cow proved to be positive, the in-calf heifer was clear, but it is thought she had recently had a big TB challenge. Like it or not, we are well and truly back in the TB club, and it all seems so familiar.

Nothing much seems to have changed, there doesn’t seem to be much urgency about it all. On the one hand, we hear the cull areas are to be extended; on the other, there are stories of reactor animals still being on farm when the affected herd is next presented for a 60-day test. How does that work and what is urgent about it? As always, it’s down to politics, which, as you will have noticed, has had other things on its mind – whether they are more important things, however, is a matter of opinion.

So, where are we now? I am just a simple farmer – I’m not a farmer with any special veterinary knowledge (but who happens to know quite a lot of vets). I’m told it might be a good idea to raise all my water troughs higher. Likewise, any feeding troughs I use out in the fields. If I use magnesium licks (which I do), they should be of a similar height and it is a good idea to “wildlife-proof” all animal housing and feed stores.

All of these suggestions beg questions. The cost of raising all water tanks would be horrendous, at a time when cash for dairy farmers is thin on the ground. Also, the recommended height of troughs, tanks and mineral buckets is above the height that can be used for young cattle. I might be a simple farmer, but I’m not so simple I can’t work out where the finger is pointing in all this.

Professional duty

I am told tests on affected animals can tell you, quite reliably, where the infection came from. Many years ago, a vet told me 25% of bTB came from wildlife. It’s true, we were at Twickenham and he had half a pint of red wine in his hand, but I am a trusting soul and I believed him. Evidence I have seen tells me the 25% figure is short of the mark – I suspect doubling it is not enough – it may be trebling it is not enough. I am just guessing, but I suspect vets know.

If I am right, don’t they, as a profession, have a duty to say so publicly? As long as the bTB links to wildlife are portrayed as tenuous, the wide spectrum of public opinion will continue to be against culling. What a powerful message it would be if you could say: “Here is an image of what 30,000 to 40,000 dead cattle looks like – 80% or so of those cattle were infected by wildlife.”

We already have about us 16 calves we would normally have sold. We are self-contained, we’ve only bought one animal, a bull, in the past several years, so we’ve been lucky.

It seems the luck has ran out.