It's a tough job but somebody's gotta do it

"HYAH HYAH!" I shouted and slapped at the furry rump.

The bull calf in the chute slowly turned around and looked at me as if to say "is that all you got?"

I tried digging my fist into its hard, muscular back.

Nothing.

Eventually, I just grabbed at the tail and twisted. With a bellow, it finally shot forward into the barn. I was left standing there victorious . . . with a fist full of sh*t. The tail hadn't been as clean as I'd thought. "Oh well," I shrugged, wiped my hand on my coveralls and walked inside.

Inside the barn, the animal was in a "squeeze" which is a machine that basically restrains the animal in place while you work on it. The catch is trying to lure the animal into the machine by leaving the head gate open so it can see the open space on the other side. The animal makes a run for it and at the exact moment when its head is just out the front, you slam the head gate shut effectively holding the animal by the neck. Sounds cruel but in reality, it's safer for the both the animal and the veterinarian.

The rule is that for every animal you "miss" on the squeeze (i.e. you didn't shut the head gate in time and it got through) you have to buy a round of beer for the class.

Fortunately, I have cat-like reflexes (ha! that and I've only ever had to catch 8 month pregnant cows before).

Suddenly, Kelsey pointed at the ground by the squeeze.
"Ew! What's that? and THAT? and THAT?!"
Disembodied masses, roughly the size and shape of a large oyster except smooth and mottled purple were strewn on the cold cement floor.

We watched as our prof pulled out a Newberry knife and a set of "emasculators" and dropped them in a bucket of disinfectant. The males in our class noticeably winced.

Today, we were learning how to castrate.

After an initial run where we got to give all the bulls epidurals (least we could do for them), we got down to the nitty gritty.

"So you want to pull down on the scrotum- don't get the testicles in there yet. Squish them up. That's right." said my prof.

As he pulled on the bull's scrotum, more wincing could be seen amongst those with a Y chromosome in the room. The bull meanwhile was just standing there, oblivious to it all. Epidurals are wonderful things.

He pulled the Newberry knife out of the bucket and showed us how to use it. Leanne was the first to go. She had the scrotum pulled down in one hand and the knife in the other. She was surprisingly quick for her first try and what seemed like only a milisecond later, the scrotum had been sliced perfectly in half and the two testicles were hanging out at us in all there bloody purpley glory.

"Now we need two other people to come and clip off the testicles. One each."
No males stepped forward.

I'm not sure what posessed me, but I decided I'd give it a shot. I'd seen the procedure done about 30 times and I'd always wondered what it felt like. Call me a freak but there's this sound that the emasculators make when they slice through that spermatic cord that's sort of a "crrrrunch" and it makes it seem like such a satisfying experience - like popping bubble wrap. But it's not enough to just hear someone popping bubble wrap. You want to grab a sheet and start popping it yourself.

Next thing I knew, I had on a pair of latex gloves and I was reaching for the testicles. "Do the right one!" my prof told me.

I grabbed a hold of it and began clearing away the connective tissue still holding it to the walls of the scrotum. As I was clearing off the fascia, I noticed the testicle was retracting into the body. "Quick! put your hand up beside the scrotum and milk it back out!"

I did as I was told and the testicle popped back out. I had cleared most of the connecting tissue until just the spermatic cord and vessels were holding it in place. My prof handed me a pair of emasculators. They looked like a giant pair of wire cutters only they weren't meant for cutting wires.

"What? Vivian's cutting off testicles? I totally need a picture of this." I heard someone say in the back.

It was like the whole room was holding their breath. I closed my eyes and squeezed the handles shut.

"Crrrrrrunch."

I opened my eyes again. "Way to go Viv! And I got it on film!"

"Nice job Vivian," said my prof, "Just leave the emasculator clamped on there a while till it stops bleeding. NOW WHO'S FOR THE LEFT?"

Someone else stepped up. It was at that moment that the calf got really woozy from the epidural and decided he wanted to take a nap. They were busy trying to keep it standing up so they could take off the left nut. Eventually, they gave up and just let the animal go.

"Just let it go into the yard guys! We'll just run it through again after we do the other calves!" shouted my prof. We released the head gate and the calf woke up and galloped out into the yard.

"Wait! Weren't the emasculators still clamped on it?"

"OH MY GOD! WAIT GUYS! DON'T LET IT GET OUT!"

Mass chaos ensued as we had to chase down the calf and get the emasculators off and back. Eventually, it was all sorted out and as I washed my hands, I noticed I was shaking. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was the cold. It was an outside barn afterall. Maybe it was the emasculators. They weren't as easy to squeeze shut as I'd thought.

Maybe, deep inside every human being- male or female- there's something that tells us all it's not quite right to be cutting off a male's testicles.

I stood there thinking about it for a bit while the emasculators were returned to the disinfectant bucket and I gave the new "steer" a subcutaneous tetanus vaccine.

"Nah," I told myself, "that can't be it."

A new bull was loaded in the squeeze while the girls kept taking pictures and the males all groaned and shifted around uncomfortably in their coveralls.

I looked out at the animal in the yard. The one that almost got away (with my emasculators). My first animal I've ever castrated in my veterinary career. He was snuffing at the snow and seemed none the worse for it.

I was awakened from my reverie by a loud "Crrrrunch"

Another set of testicles was added to the litter on the ground.

I smiled at nothing in particular.

All in a day's work Viv. All in a day's work.