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Should Burns have been a vet?

2013; Wiley; Volume: 172; Issue: 4 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1136/vr.f242

2042-7670

N. C. Craig Sharp,

Rangeland Management and Livestock Ecology

IN Edinburgh, Robert Burns was referred to as a ‘Ploughman Poet’, who ‘stood manfully at his plough, sickle and flail’, and he called himself a ‘ploughman, bred at a plough-tail’. His philosophy of the time was expressed in his song ‘My Father was a Farmer’: So I must toil, and sweat, and moil, and labour to sustain me, O. To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, O. For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for Fortune fairly, O. But, although he was very skilled in ploughing, he was not a ‘ploughman’ as such at the time he was writing many of his greatest poems, as he had become, with his brother Gilbert, a tenant farmer of the Ayrshire farm Mossgiel from 1784. During his 1787 tours of the Borders and the Highlands, in which he met many farmers and landowners, he took great interest in the state and methodology of farming and animal husbandry. In October of that year, he wrote to landowner Patrick Miller: ‘Sir, I would wish to explain my idea of being your Tennant – I want to be a farmer in a small farm, about a plough-gang, in a pleasant country, under the auspices of a good landlord – I have no foolish notion of being a Tennant on easier terms than another’ (Burns 1787). A plough-gang or plough-gate of land, or ‘as much as could employ four horses, allowing half of it to be ploughed’, was then a common-sized farm. In a second letter to Patrick Miller, in March 1788, discussing the farm at Ellisland, which he ultimately leased from Miller, Burns wrote: ‘the farm is so worn out … that four horses which I will need this summer for driving lime and materials for building, with a cow for a married servant perhaps the first year, and one for myself as I must be on the spot, will eat up the whole pasture’ (Burns 1788). But in all his farming life and beyond, Burns had an extremely keen interest in farm animals and wildlife in general (Gemmill 1929, Young 1996, Sharp 2009). In J. A. Mackay's ‘Complete Works of Robert Burns’ (Mackay 1986), there are 640 works (poems, songs, epigrams and epitaphs), of which 218 contain references to one or more animals. Eighteen of the poems and five of the songs are specifically targeted at animals. In these 218 works, there are 457 mentions of 95 different species, from bookworms to tigers (with the convention that the same animal featuring more than once in a poem is counted as just one ‘mention’). A ploughing match at Mossgiel, the farm where Burns wrote much of his best work, and where the author's interest in the poet began during a period of research on the bovine lungworm vaccine. This is the actual field of the ‘Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie’ whose nest was turned up with the plough in November 1785 Photograph: John Skilling The distribution of these animals includes 42 species of bird and domestic or wild fowl, which feature in 192 works, as do horses in 48, cattle in 32, sheep in 41, pigs in two, dogs in 26 and cats in six. Of non-domestic animals, nine hares (‘maukin’), six foxes (‘tod’), four rats (‘ratton’), three polecats (‘foumart’), two hedgehogs (‘hurcheon’), one mole (‘moudiewort’), one badger (‘brock’), one bat (‘bauchie-bird’), nine deer, three mice, one guinea pig, one wildcat, two toads, one lizard, one adder and six unspecified reptiles all collectively feature, with mentions of these 16 species in 51 poems. More exotic creatures, such as four lions, one tiger, one bear, one wolf, and one monkey, together with one vampire and two scorpions, appear as seven species in 11 works, while three trout, one salmon, one perch, three unspecified fish and two eels appear as four species in 10 poems. Descending the evolutionary tree, one finds that bees make 11 appearances, flies three, butterflies two and unspecified insects two, while wasps, clegs and locusts appear once each, totalling seven insect species. Maggots (three), bookworms (one), lice (two) and crab-lice (one), together with one snail, two worms, one horse leech, one beetle (‘bum-clock’), two spiders, one limpet, one mussel and one cockle, provide 17 mentions of these 12 species. Exemplifying Burns' genuine love for animals is his writing to William Nicol from Ellisland in December 1789: ‘Now for your unfortunate old mare … I tried her yesterday in the Plough, & I find the poor creature is extremely willing to do what she can’ (Burns 1789a). And eight weeks later he wrote to him, indicating that he did make use of veterinary help: ‘That damned mare of yours is dead (in spite of the two best farriers in the country). I would freely have given her price to have saved her … I took every care of her in my power. She was never crossed for riding above half a score of times by me or in my keeping. I drew her in the plough, one of three, for one poor week. I fed her up and had her in fine order for Dumfries fair … I assure you my much valued friend, that every thing was done for her that could be done, and the accident has vexed me to the heart’ (Burns 1790). The following two excerpts exemplify his love and kindness: Thro a' the town she trotted by him, A lang half-mile she could descry him, Wi kindly bleat, when she did spy him, She ran wi speed. – ‘Poor Mailie's Elegy’ But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa', The blitter frae the boggie, The tod reply'd upon the hill, I trembled for my hoggie. – ‘My Hoggie’ [houlet – owl; blitter – snipe; tod – fox; hoggie – young, castrated male sheep, wether.] The poet's compassion for animals comes out very deeply, starting with an Ellisland incident: ‘As I was in my fields early one morning I heard the report of a gun and presently a poor little hare, dragging its wounded limbs, limped piteously by me. ‘I have always had an abhorrence at this way of assassinating God's creatures without first allowing them those means of defence which he has variously endowed them; but at this season when the object of our treacherous murder is most probably a parent, perhaps the mother, and of consequence to leave two little helpless nurslings to perish of hunger and the pitiless wilds, such an action is not only a sin against the letter of the law, but likewise a deep crime against the morality of the heart’ (Burns 1789b). This incident triggered the poem ‘The Wounded Hare’: Inhuman man! Curse on thy barb'rous art, And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye, May never pity soothe thee with a sigh, Nor never pleasure glad thy cruel heart! Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field, The bitter little that of life remains! No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains, To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield. Similarly, a famous incident with a mouse resulted in ‘To a Mouse, On Turning Her up in Her Nest with the Plough, November 1785’: Wee sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie, [sleek fearful little creature] O, what a panic's in thy breastie, [little breast] Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle, [the sound of a scamper] I wad be laith to rin and chase thee, [loath to run] Wi' murd'ring pattle, [plough-staff/a small spade] While a walk up to Loch Turret near Crieff resulted in ‘On Scaring Some Water-Fowl in Loch Turit’: Why, ye tennants of the lake, For me your wat'ry haunts forsake? Tell me, fellow creatures, why At my presence thus you fly? Burns' knowledge and understanding of animals, especially horses, but also birds, is eloquently illustrated in excerpts from these two works: Thou never braing't, an fech't, an flisket; [plunged on and stopped short and was skittish] But thy auld tail thou would hae whiskit, [switched] An spread abreed thy well-fill'd brisket, [extended widely] Wi pith an pow'r; [energy and power] Till sprittie knowes wad rair't an riskit [rooty hillocks would have roared and torn] An slypet owre. [fallen over sideways, across the furrow] Mony a sair daurk we twa hae wrought, [severe day's labour] An wi the weary warl' fought! [world] An monie an anxious day I thought We wad be beat! Yet here to crazy age we're brought, Wi something yet. – ‘The Auld Farmer's New-Year Morning Salutation to his Auld Mare, Maggie’ and also: The Partridge loves the fruitful fells, The Plover loves the mountains; The Woodcock haunts the lonely dells, The soaring Hern the fountains, Thro' lofty groves, the Cushat roves, The path of man to shun it; The hazel bush o'erhangs the Thrush, The spreading thorn the Lunnet. – ‘Song Composed in August’ [hern – heron; cushat – wood pigeon; lunnet – linnet] Burns can also bring humour to his animals: I never barked when out of season, I never bit without a reason; – ‘On a Dog of Lord Eglinton's’ Through and through th'inspir'd leaves, Ye maggots, make your windings: But O, respect his lordships taste, And spare the golden bindings! – ‘The Book-Worms’ Robert Burns had a unique quality as an excellent clinical observer (invoking the old veterinary clinical adage that ‘more is missed by not looking than by not knowing’); for example, noting of his own old bay mare that ‘she was seized with an unaccountable disease in the sinews, or somewhere in the bones of the neck; with a weakness or total want of power in her fillets [thighs], and in short the whole vertebrae of her spine seemed to be diseased and unhinged’ (Burns 1790). He was also at the forefront of aspects of cattle husbandry. For example, the eminent agriculturist, Colonel Fullarton of Fullarton, recorded that: ‘In order to prevent the danger arising from horned cattle in studs and straw yards, the best mode is to cut out the budding knob, or root of the horn, while the calf is very young. This was suggested to me by Mr Robert Burns, whose general talents are no less conspicuous, than the poetic powers, which have done so much honour to the country where he was born’ (Fullarton of Fullarton 1793). Colonel Fullarton aimed to record best agricultural practice from all over England and Scotland, and to promulgate it throughout Ayrshire. Similarly, Burns' knowledge of equine disease seems cutting edge for its time, with the imposing casebook of veterinary problems shown in his song ‘The Auld Man's Mare's Dead’: She was cut-luggit, painch-lippit, [crop-eared, flabby-lipped] Steel-waimit, staincher-fittit, [steel-bellied, stiff-footed] chanler-chaftit, lang-neckit, [lantern-jawed, thin-necked] yet the brute did die. Her lunzie-banes were knaggs and neuks, [pelvic bones, pegs, projecting corners] She had the cleeks, the cauld, the crooks, [cramps, snuffles, wry-neck] the jawpish and the wanton yeuks, [urethritis, rampant itch] and the howks aboon her e'e. [abscesses] Although not an ‘animal’ poem, the following bit of fun – from ‘Scotch Drink’ – is included as an example of Burns' knowledge of human ailments, to partner his equine song: May gravels round his blather wrench, [kidney stones, bladder] An gouts torment him, inch by inch, . … Now colic grips, an barkin hoast [cough] May kill us a'; ‘The Inventory, Mossgiel 1786’ found him feeling guilty: I play'd my fillie sic a shavie, [did my filly such a bad turn] She's a' bedevil'd wi the spavie. [spavin, hock joint arthritis] All the above excerpts collectively display the very broad range of Burns' extraordinary feelings for and engagement with the animals around him; indeed, he described himself as ‘a man … of unbounded goodwill to every creature’ (Burns 1787-1790). His experience of farming was thorough, with a comprehensive mix of arable and livestock work, including horses, cattle, sheep and poultry, of which he had a good knowledge of their diseases. His excise engagement indicates that he could have organised a practice, and its records and book-keeping, very effectively, and he was very well experienced in travel by horse or gig. Burns was charismatic and would have been very popular with his clients. Altogether, he had the qualities to make an ideal country vet, in a large animal practice with some small animal work mixed in. In closing, it is worth noting that in Ayrshire in the later 18th century, there seems to have been a very marked need for veterinary help. Colonel Fullarton commented: ‘Moorland shepherds are extremely diligent and skilful, taking constant notice of their flocks, and attending to the disorders which frequently afflict them. But in the low parts of the county, great ignorance and inattention to this subject are united. Numbers of sheep perish under the rot [fusiformis?] and scab [psoroptic mange]. Farmers often lose their cattle by the moor-ill or moor-evil [a dysentery in sheep or cattle], and murrain or cattle plague [anthrax, foot-and-mouth disease?]; and hundreds of horses die every year by botts [gastrophilus?], grease [epidermal fungal disease below the fetlock], strangles [Streptococcus equi ] and inflammation of the intestines [grass sickness?]. It is strange indeed that so little attention should be paid to the diseases of animals in this county, that there should neither be persons skilful in the cure of them, nor books and publications circulated to direct the farmer how to act when such disasters happen to his stock’ (Fullarton of Fullarton 1793). And this would seem to be supported by another contemporary report on Ayrshire's agriculture. A report headed ‘Prejudice Versus Improvement’, read: ‘In agriculture, as in other sciences, ignorance is the mother of devotion; innovation is always dreaded by the half-enlightened, and the force of prejudice is generally strong in its proportion to the absurdity of the tenets adopted, or the barbarity of the practices followed’ (Strawhorn 1959). Plenty of scope then for a skilled, observant veterinarian. Robert Burns would have been ideally suited. The author thanks John Skilling for use of his photograph.