This story I wrote was published in regional farm publications such as The Ohio Country Journal to add information and often some levity to agricultural science and current ag topics.

This story is one of my favorite reminiscences of my days in practice when I was only running farm calls. It is true story but only the name of the client has been changed. Many of my clients would arrange to deworm their heifers while moving them from one facility to another. This was the case with Dave. He wanted to get his heifers dewormed through the cattle chute as they came off the trailer. It was a sunny January day, and the ice on the roads was turning to slush, making driving hazardous. I was to be at Dave’s at 1:00 P.M., but was delayed with a calving that needed tending at 12:30. My wife, Judy, had packed my lunch, and I was gulping it down as I drove. Judy had packed some rhubarb stew. It was delicious, and I was having trouble eating it and keeping the truck on the road. I finished just as I got to Dave’s.

As I got out of the truck, Dave was looking at his watch ready to request an explanation why I was late. I wanted to head off an inquiry, so before he had a chance to open his mouth, I quickly asked if he had in preference regarding what he wanted to use for a dewormer. I knew the timing of my question was great, because it did head off his inquiry about my being late. So I began to tell Dave all about Ostertagia, the medium-brown worm, I’d been briefed on at recent veterinary meeting.

As I described the worm’s life cycle in some detail, Dave was staring intently at my coat, waiting to get a word in edgewise. When it looked like I was letting up for a breath, he interrupted. “Doc, what you been doin’?”

At that moment I noticed what he had been staring at. In my haste to gulp my lunch, I had spilled a big hunk of stewed rhubarb on the zipper of my coat. I knew what he was going to ask next, and I also realized that he hadn’t been listening to anything I’d been saying. I replied, “Oh, nothing much but cleaning a couple of cows. Why?”

Dave pointed at my coat, wrinkled his nose, and said, “You got a gob on your coat.” Before he had time to think, I replied, “No problem,” and I put my coat to my mouth and licked the rhubarb off.

Dave’s reaction was beyond my expectation. He turned three shades of green and went over to lean against the barn. I thought he was going to lose his lunch. It seemed like an eternity before he could say anything. I had such a hard time keeping a straight face that I had to walk around behind the truck so he couldn’t see me “guffawing.” Finally, Dave figured out he had been “had,” and both of us had a good laugh when I told him that I’d been eating rhubarb.