In Cock and Bull Stories I wrote about exotic animals and some of the difficulties vets are faced with when having to deal with them. My earliest experiences with a wide range of different species had been the animals at the Marlborough Zoological Gardens. This small wildlife park was developed in the early 1980s and survived for three or four years before a disaster and finances forced its closure. During the 1980s an influx of new species also arrived on the farming scene that presented us with many novel experiences and a huge range of opportunities.
There was a period in New Zealand’s history when diversification in farming was being encouraged. It was not a big step to shift from sheep and beef cattle to include goats or deer in a farm business. After all they were both ruminants and there was some demand for their products: meat and fibre for goats, and meat and velvet for deer.
Both these industries have more or less successfully continued in the New Zealand farming scene. Pete J in his chapter ‘Angora Anguish’ (page 47) tells of an interesting time doing embryo transfer work.
Many tried their hands at other species, historically not domestic animals, and while there are still a few around none have continued as a viable farming option. Among these were alpaca, Angora and rex rabbits, fitches (ferrets) and later ratites (emus and ostriches). The problem with this group was that once the initial demand for base stock was met — those that would be the nuclei for commercial populations — then there had to be a demand for their products either nationally or internationally in order for operators to survive. The message, well promoted by those people who were in right at the beginning, was that there was an insatiable demand for the products they produced — the skins and fibre from rabbits and fitches, fibre from alpaca, and oil and feathers and meat from ostriches and emus. So as well as the traditional sheep and beef and dairy farmers, many of those who got into ‘farming’ during this era were lifestyle-block holders, professionals and successful business people with money to invest. There was also an element involved who had somehow mysteriously acquired their wealth.
I worked with one rabbit farmer, Will Parsons. Rabbits were not the sort of diversification you would expect for a sheep and beef farmer, but he did appreciate their breeding potential well before he got into them. He was in right at the beginning and with the help of a regional development grant converted a hay barn into a purpose-built rabbit shed, and then imported 10 very valuable females and two bucks from Germany and set up a registered stud. By the time he had finished rabbit farming he was running around 800 Angora rabbits. As there were few other rabbit farmers in New Zealand to consult he had to learn much by trial and error. Breeding up was as expected not a problem, and feeding and management eventually, after some experimenting, became relatively easy, although fairly time consuming for a busy sheep farmer. Each rabbit was shorn four times per year and in a year produced up to 2.3 kilograms of very soft fine fibre. With an average value of $42 a kilogram the return from one little animal could be quite impressive. As a result, and being first off the block, there was much interest in his Angora rabbit farming enterprise. He once did a shearing demonstration in the wool room at the Ward A & P Show, packed to overflowing with punters including many local farmers. Merino farmers who had spent a lifetime having to deal with plagues of this rodent were amazed at the quantity and quality of fibre produced off such a small animal, but none could apparently identify with farming rabbits instead of merinos, even if it would have removed the concern of poor reproductive performance.
Will really enjoyed his rabbit farming days and paid a lot of attention to the rabbits’ welfare and fed them well. Somewhat to his surprise he found that they had a very high pain threshold as they never flinched or reacted in any way if he happened to nick them during shearing. While shearing one particular doe he happened to nick it over a solid lump on its neck. He felt the lump needed further investigation so he carefully dissected out this large cyst-like mass from beneath the skin. He then stitched her up and made a special trip into town to show me this mysterious mass and see if I could determine what it was. He was a little taken aback when I began to laugh. I had to tell him he had chosen the wrong career and suggested he should seriously look at getting into cosmetic surgery. He had successfully removed a large lump of fat!
At its peak the rabbit fibre was worth $120 a kilogram. Will actually did very well out of selling the fibre as well as breeding animals for other budding rabbit farmers. The first doe he sold fetched $600. However, rabbits are extensively farmed in China and the Chinese quickly saw an opportunity to increase their Angora rabbit population. Within a year the return from the fibre started to fall and it was then that Will decided to get out. Luckily Robert Muldoon’s livestock incentive scheme meant that Will did not lose too much when he sold, despite the value of fibre being a fraction of what it was when he bought in.
I was also involved with a fitch farm. These animals, ferrets, were bred for very high-quality pelts or skins and the group involved really went into it properly with a well-built house, cages and skin-processing equipment on top of very good management. Again success of this enterprise was determined by the value of the pelt and in their case the whims of fashion and the market. Within a couple of years the industry had collapsed. On the farm I was involved with, things were not helped by ringworm, a fungal skin disease, getting into the population. This disease ruined the pelts and was very difficult to control.
While I drew the line at ostriches and emus, Noel McGirr, our friend from North Canterbury, ‘upskilled’ in all matters related to ratite health and management. He went to several courses in New Zealand and overseas to learn about these birds so he would be in a position to help locals who wanted to get into the industry. I’m rather glad I left the ostriches to Noel.
The ostrich, native to Africa, had proved resilient in and adaptable to new environments and had been previously farmed in New Zealand on a small scale when ostrich feathers were a ladies fashion necessity. Emus are native to and farmed in Australia. A big new future was expected for these huge birds in the healthy red meat market, and for medicinal and cosmetic oils. Ostrich feathers, with their antistatic properties, were touted as the thing to dust your computer with. The unique eggs also had some novelty value. But I could never understand why anyone thought these birds would be an economic proposition in New Zealand if they were not flourishing industries in their native countries.
The ostrich is the largest living bird in the world with adults reaching 2 metres in height and weighing up to 150 kilograms. It is an extremely inquisitive bird and while quite intimidating when aroused, and capable of killing a lion with its big toe, it becomes reasonably docile when a bag is placed over its head. The emu on the other hand, while a smaller bird, is a real Aussie, being more fiery and difficult to subdue.
With the value of a breeding pair fetching $20,000–$30,000, investment in the business was stimulated and opportunities were there for veterinarians. Fertile eggs were imported and sophisticated incubation technology implemented. Tricky surgical procedures involving risky anaesthesia became viable options, for example, to save valuable newly hatched chicks with retained yolk sacs, and to correct rotated and bent legs in older chicks using bone plates. Dealing with impacted intestines, the end result of their inquisitive nature, meaning they pecked at and swallowed anything shiny, was also not uncommon. Noel was kept busy with ostriches and emus for nearly 10 years, into the 1990s, but eventually the realisation that they were not going to live up to expectations forced most ratite farmers to cut their losses. However, Noel did learn a lot about a totally different type of animal, had some wonderful new experiences and also made many new friends.
We also worked with Peter Yealands, a well-known local entrepreneur now famous for his achievements in the wine industry. Among his numerous earlier ventures was deer farming, where Pete J and I were involved in carrying out embryo transfer work, and an attempt at possum farming. Peter felt that possum farming could be a viable option given, at the time, the value of the skins of wild-caught animals. However, success did depend on the skins being high-quality ones and that was influenced by time of year and the incidence of fighting wounds and skin damage. Peter felt that castrating the male possums would solve the fighting issues, so I had some interesting times sorting out an easy and economical way to anaesthetise and castrate them.
Again, as for fitches and rabbits, the market collapse spelled the end of that little venture. In Peter’s case it was also not helped by a mass breakout from the enclosure where the possums were being held. Many of these beasts ended their lives shortly afterwards while mesmerised by the bright lights from fast approaching vehicles on the main trunkline and main road nearby.
Around about this time salmon farming had started in the Marlborough Sounds and I thought helping with the production and disease side of things would be an interesting sideline to get into. I was also advised that anyone with a veterinary background would be a useful addition to the local industry. As a result I spent a couple of weeks in Tasmania doing a course in marine farming at the aquaculture college in Launceston and returned an ‘instant expert’. Unfortunately my credentials, to my surprise, didn’t seem to impress either of the two local salmon farming companies. At the time both companies were desperate to identify the cause of a condition called ‘bloat’ but despite my numerous requests to look at sick salmon and past laboratory results I never heard back. Even though I had only done a crash course in fish farming I am sure with my veterinary training I could have helped get to the bottom of the problem. In hindsight I suspect they didn’t want someone from outside being involved.
It is rather ironic that some time after this my daughter Caroline, who as a child had always been interested in veterinary things and often enjoyed watching me at work, ended up doing an aquaculture degree at Launceston after finishing high school. She returned to get a job with one of the salmon farming companies in the Sounds and became very involved in the work which finally identified the cause of bloat as being a nutritional imbalance.
This period in the 1980s was a wonderfully exciting era. We rapidly learned about all the various features and behaviours of a number of very diverse species, as well as different diseases, and how best to manage their populations. We became really competent at using new anaesthetics and often performing very intricate surgical techniques. We also made contact with a much wider and interesting element of society from where many new friendships developed.
In the end we learned that for a species to become established as a viably farmed production animal in New Zealand it has to provide a product, usually food, that is in constant demand elsewhere in the world. Hoping to successfully farm an introduced species that is not successfully farmed overseas or whose success depends on the whims of fashion is most unlikely to be a winner.
But for now the sun has just gone down and the cooler evening air is drawing in. I’ve done enough for the day and shut down the computer. After giving the screen a dusting with my ostrich feather, I’ll don my ferret-skin jacket and then sit down for an ostrich steak dinner — washed down with a Dog Point pinot.