Not long after starting my graduate studies in animal sciences, during a phone call with my grandmother, I was attempting to explain exactly what it was that I was up to. Suffice to say, we were not connecting as she was quite pragmatic and wasn’t seeing any real benefit to my endeavor. I tried several angles and explanations — she listened patiently, but finally she brought our discussion to a close by asking me if it would be OK if she just told her friends that I was a veterinarian. 

I chuckle every time I think of that conversation, as it reminds me not to take myself too seriously. However, it also serves as a reminder that veterinarians are held in high regard — a status earned by competence, trust and service. 

I have two distinct memories of interactions with our ranch veterinarians that would guide me into building a more effective working relationship with them.

During my senior year of high school, my folks had to be gone overnight, and I was left on calving watch. It was nearly the end of the calving season, and there were only a few first-calf heifers left to be watched. In the early evening, I observed a heifer showing signs of labor and with an approaching storm on the horizon, I herded her into the barn. When she finally presented several hooves, it was clear something was amiss. 

After gloving up and palpating to determine the calf’s position, I knew the situation was beyond my expertise, so I trudged to the house to place a call to Doc. He was the senior vet in the county, and to describe him as brusque would have been an understatement. As the phone rang, I was hopeful that his wife would answer, and I could just relay the message for him to come posthaste. No such luck! 

“This is Doc, what do you need?” 

I explained the situation, silence, and then, “I’m watching a basketball game on the TV — I guess I should head that way.”  

Upon his arrival, it was all business as he strained to reposition the calf and then complete the delivery.  

“Looks good,” he stated flatly before adding, “Do you like basketball?”  

Without giving me much of a chance to answer, he pointed towards the house. 

“Let’s check out the end of the game.”  

In the next half hour or so, I learned that this gruff, old-school vet was a passionate basketball fan with a zest for the game. It humanized him and shifted my approach to future interactions.

Some 10 years later, he would retire, and we would begin the process to find a new practitioner.  We called a young vet who was setting up a new clinic to evaluate a ranch horse that was persistently lame. After a thorough examination as we leaned on the top rail of the fence, he offered us three options each with possible benefits, as well as treatment options and costs.  

“What do you guys think?”  

It was a winning conversation — rather than telling us what to do — he was putting options on the table and giving us the decision. It was the beginning of a long and productive relationship, one where we soon trusted him not only for routine visits and emergencies, but as a trusted advisor in developing preventative health care and a host of other herd management options.  

As we look to providing for the well-being of our cattle, the power of a team cannot be understated. When it comes to the veterinary-client relationship, building trust beyond the confines of profession coupled with an attitude of consultancy that keeps the final decisions in the hands of the client creates a level of trust and confidence that provides a cornerstone for exceptional herd health outcomes. 

Editor’s note: Tom Field is a rancher from Parlin, Colo., and the director of the Engler Agribusiness Entrepreneurship Program at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln.