Medicine: Veterinarians

In the side of a sleepy black steer, Dr. Arthur F. Schalk carved a hole big enough to push a beer bottle through. Straight through the abdominal wall he sliced, until the interior of the rumen and the reticulum—two of the four bovine stomach cavities—was disclosed to view. When the edges of the hole in his steer had healed, plump, white-thatched Dr. Schalk, professor of veterinary medicine at Ohio State University, stoppered it with a wooden plug.

Professor Francis W. Davis of the university’s photography department removed the plug, brought a cinecamera up close to the hole, took pictures of what was going on in the steer’s stomach. The film clearly showed that digestion in a cow’s stomach is continuous. Semiliquid food surged through in periodic waves like surf.

The muscular columns of the stomach reduced lumps of fodder to a proper consistency, passed them on to other digestive organs. Even when the animal was not feeding, the stomach was bathed at intervals by jets of saliva.

Last week these pictures, partly in color, were shown to animal doctors gathered in Columbus, Ohio, for the 73rd annual convention of the American Veterinary Medical Association. Some 1,850 veterinarians talked shop, slapped backs, sang songs, waved aside the term ”horse doctor” as an obsolete vulgarism, heard scores of papers on such subjects as “The Pathogenesis of Ketosis” and “Infectious Enterohepatitis” gravely pondered the growing breach between sturdy practitioners on farm animals and city doctors who cosset socialites’ pets. At the Ohio State Fair grounds there were expert demonstrations of tonsillectomy, caesarian section, amputation of the breast and painless killing of dogs; castration of aged boars; operation for umbilical hernia and rectal prolapse in swine; ovariectomy and dehorning of cattle; artificial insemination of mares.

Apparent during this show was the fact that veterinarians are bountiful users of anesthetics. For local operations cocaine and novocaine are favorites. For major jobs, ether and gas together are frequently used. So is nembutal, which numbs without producing unconsciousness. Instruments, cotton and bandages are thoroughly sterilized, despite the fact that animals are less prone to infection than humans. Veterinary surgeons wear white caps and gowns while operating, occasionally masks and rubber gloves.

Highlights of the meeting:

¶ Dr. Samuel Rossett Guard, lean, bespectacled editor of Breeder’s Gazette, displayed samples of mail-order “cures”‘ for Bang’s disease (infectious abortion) and other livestock ailments, assailed some livestock journals for accepting quack advertising. It appeared that certain quack schools were offering five-day courses for $50, collecting about $500,000 annually. One school guaranteed to teach anyone “who can read his own writing and has fair hearing” to test barren and aborted cows. “The charlatan, the deceiver, the herb doctor, the cheater,” thundered Dr. Guard, “is in your midst.” ¶ Dr. Nelson Slater Mayo of Highland Park, Ill., proposed that every one of the ten reputable U. S. schools maintain a staff of at least 17 full-time veterinarians in order to be recognized by the Association. This move would bar five schools in the South and West unless they increased their staffs. Action was postponed until next year.

¶ Dumpy, pink Dr. John Stratton Koen of Chicago, chairman of A. V. M. A.’s special committee on meat hygiene, declared that one-third of the U. S. meat supply is either inadequately inspected or not inspected at all. Only California has state wide inspection; only 400 U. S. cities and towns try to keep tab on their meat. Of 73,000,000 carcasses inspected last year, 308,000 were rejected as unfit for human consumption.

¶ Personages. Prominent veterinarians visible last week in Columbus included: Dr. Hugli Max O’Rear, assistant chief of the tuberculosis eradication division of the U. S. Bureau of Animal Industry.

Gruff, thickset, 46-year-old Dr. O’Rear is famed for developing the “double-injection” tuberculin test, in which the animal is needled not only in the tail but also in the rectum or genitalia. Now turning his attention to the dreaded scourge of Bang’s disease, Dr. O’Rear explained its appearance in cycles by assuming that cattle immunize themselves for a time after an epidemic. Bang’s disease, named for the Danish discoverer of its germ, frequently causes abortion in livestock by attacking the foetus, blocking its food supply.

Dr. John Francis Devine, tall, thin president of J. F. Devine Laboratories in Goshen, N. Y., manufacturers of biologies and pharmaceutics. Fervent student of trotting horses, Dr. Devine is considered a world authority on breeding, employs twelve researchers in his laboratory, has written some 100 papers on cattle diseases of Europe, Asia, Africa. He is fond of gardening, breeds miniature pinscher dogs. Dr. Harry William Schoening, chief of the pathological division of the U. S. Bureau of Animal Industry. In 1925 a Congressional appropriation sent wiry, tanned Dr. Schoening and two others to study hoof & mouth disease in France, England, Italy, Belgium, Germany, Holland, Denmark. For this highly infectious malady, which entails loss to breeders because the afflicted animals lose weight, no efficient cure is yet known. Dr. Schoening is now studying encephalomyelitis (“blind staggers”) in horses. His experiments convince him that in some cases mosquitoes may be the encephalomyelitis carrier.

Dr. Alexander Eames Wight, tuberculosis expert of the Bureau of Animal Industry, is “the man who employs more veterinarians than any other man in the U. S.” Graduated from Harvard in 1897, he now has more than 700 Federal tuberculosis workers in the field under his direction. Cattle found infected are summarily destroyed, their owners compensated. Two decades ago 5% of U. S. cattle had tuberculosis. Today the incidence is one-half of 1%, thanks largely to aging, soft-spoken Dr. Wight.

Dr. Joseph Charles Flynn of Kansas City is this year’s president of A. V. M. A. In 1910 he was among the first to set up a practice devoted exclusively to small animals. His pet hospital in Kansas City is considered a model. In his presidential address last week, sparse-haired, erect Dr. Flynn advocated, among other things, a campaign against doping racehorses.

Colonel Robert Julian Foster, chief veterinarian of the U. S. Army, was elected A. V. M. A. president for next year. “The Army’s complement of mules & horses in 1920,” said Colonel Foster, “was 80,000. Today: 23,000.” Reason: Mechanization of the Army.

Practice & Prices, If the typical competent and conscientious U. S. veterinarian could be isolated, he would probably appear as an intelligent, middleaged, fairly prosperous man. If he lives in the country, he earns about $5,000 a year. If he is a “city vet,” he makes close to $6,000.

World’s first veterinary school was established in France in 1761. The A. V. M. A., organized in 1863, now comprises 4,200 of the 13,000 animal doctors practicing in the U. S. These men serve 5,000,000 livestock owners who raise some 165,000,000 cattle, swine, sheep, goats, horses and mules every year. Although State requirements vary, the general rule is that a student must complete one year of college, attend a school of veterinary medicine for four years, get his diploma, pass a State examination before practicing. A professor of veterinary medicine must have his Ph.D.

A typical scale of prices: treatment at office or hospital. $2-$3; home visit, $3-$5; boarding small animal, $1-$2 per day; operation (amputation, tumor removal, castration, caesarian section), $20. Like physicians, veterinarians vary their charges according to the means of their clients. In the country they are also guided by the distance they must travel.

Like country physicians, country veterinarians must be prepared to jump out of bed at any hour of the night, to handle anything from a broken leg to a difficult delivery. Depression and Drought have hit their pocketbooks hard. Another source of loss is the improvement in railroad transit. They used to be called often to examine animals bruised or hurt in shipment. Now this claim work has fallen off to 1% of their total practice.

City veterinarians have fared much better since 1929 than their colleagues in the farm belts. They sailed through a slight dip in the early 1930’s, now report business as flourishing as ever. Dogs account for 90% of their practice. The remainder comes from cats, monkeys, an occasional milk wagon horse.