My Take Tuesday: The Most Difficult Part of My Job

Death and dying are uncomfortable subjects. For some, it stirs up painful memories of past losses. For others, it is a reminder of our mortality or the mortality of those we love.

As I tend to the animals in my care, I will lose patients to death despite my best efforts. Often at these times, I am exposed to the emotions of the families who have loved them. For some, there are dramatic outbursts; for others, emotions will be put on hold for private moments.

As different as people are, so are their reactions. No right or wrong. I always try to respect and accept the fact that we all grieve and express grief in our own way and in our own time, and I try my best to be there to support my clients through this most difficult time.

I have to deal with death on a daily basis. Many of these are pets that need to be euthanized. It is among the most difficult aspects of my job. I see the sadness in family members eyes when they have to say goodbye to their family member. I often tear up when the strong bond between the family and pet is obvious.

I cannot feel their pain. I did not have the years of interaction with their family member. I didn’t see the unique personality they are talking about. I only have treated this pet on a few occasions and our interactions usually lasted only a few minutes.

What I can show is empathy. My professional familiarity with death means I also know a great deal about grief — my own, of course, and also that of the families whose pets I have looked after throughout their lives.

Dealing with this on a daily basis for many years is difficult. Many veterinarians suffer from severe burnout and fatigue, and sadly a 2.7x higher suicide rate when compared to the general public.

Veterinarians encounter death frequently, along with some moral issues human doctors never face. Consider the client I need to counsel and help to choose between a costly operation for their pet or paying their mortgage — or worse, a beloved patient I operate on who, despite good care, still dies. Or another case where horrific animal abuse is evident.

When these stresses combine with long working hours and on-call pressures, it’s easy to see how anyone could melt down.

I try hard to focus on the goodness of people who save animals, instead of the evil of those who hurt them. This helps tremendously. I count myself so fortunate to have the clients that I do. They are loyal and caring. They are kind. I take the trust they have in me very seriously and I do my best every day to be the very best veterinarian I can be.

The loss of a pet should not be taken lightly, and it is not something most people get over quickly or easily – although many may think there is a social stigma not to grieve for animals as we do for humans. The fact is that the bond that is formed between people and their pets is in many cases even stronger than some of the bonds between people.

Although I do not fully understand the love you have for your pet, I do care about your feelings and try my best to show this with each interaction I have. This is particularly true when dealing with these difficult end of life decisions. If you have had to go through this, my heart aches for you.

Losing a pet is tough. I mourn your loss.

I also strongly believe that the bond between human and animal continues, across the rainbow bridge, between this life and the next.

And that is My Take

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Value of a Mentor

During the last year of most veterinary school programs, time is set aside for students to spend away from the veterinary school immersed in clinical practice in what is known as a preceptorship. At Washington State University, this is a four-credit (four-week) guided preceptorship experience.

I didn’t have the luxury of visiting the list of clinics that provided a mixed-animal (a clinic that treats large and small animals) preceptorship because of my chaotic schedule of rotations at the veterinary school. Instead, I sat in an office and read over a binder of information about the possible selections. A new clinic had just been added to the book that was offering a guided preceptorship for the first time.

The name of the clinic was Mt. Spokane Veterinary Hospital. It was located north of Spokane, in Mead, right off Newport Highway. I had a gut feeling that this would be the best place for me to complete my preceptorship. I would be the very first student preceptor at the clinic.

Of all of the training I have received during my career as a veterinarian, I count the four weeks spent at Mt. Spokane Veterinary Hospital as the most influential and consequential in where I am today.

I found the team at the hospital very welcoming and nurturing. Every team member made me feel welcome from day one. I quickly learned of the flow of the hospital and began assisting in appointments and surgeries.

Drs. Randy Scott and Luther McConnel were very generous with their time. Having a student dampens the efficiency of the clinic as it requires much time and patience. Busy veterinary practices can be extremely intense to the exclusion of student education. I found their practice to be the exact opposite. The case load was vast and diverse, but they took the time to make sure I felt involved and that I was learning about the routine cases that rarely present to veterinary school teaching hospitals.

Veterinary school does not provide much surgical experience. We learn anatomy and have extensive classroom training on tissue handling and surgery, but actual hands-on surgery is something that is typically acquired away from the veterinary school.

During my month working with Dr. Scott, I had the opportunity to tweak and refine my surgical skills. Dr. Scott never criticized me, rather he gave me pointers on how to hold surgical instruments and how to precisely use a scalpel and place suture knots. He did this in a manner that was constructive and not condescending. He created an environment of learning. He saw something in me that I did not see. He taught me to trust my skill and my ability as I entered the real world as a practicing veterinarian. He became a trusted mentor.

Dr. Randy Scott is a truly unselfish person who helped me with little in return. He was genuinely altruistic. He built my confidence, encouraged me to grow, and patiently watched me fall and regain my balance. He saw something in me that I didn’t even know I possessed.

The word “mentor” as applied to such a person has its roots in Greek mythology. In the Odyssey, Mentor was a character who advised and protected Odysseus’ son Telemachus. A 1699 novel called Les Aventures de Télémaque (“The Adventures of Telemachus”), introduced a character named Mentor who served as Telemachus’ tutor. Mentor was the hero of the story, and turned out to be Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, in disguise. The modern usage of the term “mentor” seems to have arisen from that book.

A great mentor wants you to succeed, and he or she will actively support your success with words and action. The great mentor will never be envious or feel threatened by your growth; he or she will congratulate you on your triumphs and help you recover from your setbacks. The generous mentor will make connections or offer resources that could be useful to you whenever he or she can. Most important, a generous mentor believes in your potential, and communicates that to you freely and with hope. The generous mentor supports you to become the person you want to become.

How grateful I am for the mentorship I received under Dr. Randy Scott. Looking back at all the opportunities I’ve had as veterinarian have pivoted on the training I received from him. My first veterinary work on deer, elk and moose all began during my time at his clinic. I would have never had the courage to work with reindeer without this essential knowledge base. My surgical skills, from the way I hold my suture and my needle drivers, to the way I perform orthopedic surgery, all began and were nurtured under his mentorship. He taught me that what we did was small and beautiful- but that the animals we helped were precious.

Over the years, I have remained close with Dr. Scott. He has even stopped in to visit my veterinary hospital in Springville. He has done so much for me and taught me so much about science, about life, about everything. My biggest fear has always been in letting him down. I work my hardest so that he can be proud of me and to show him that his trust in me was not wasted.

The true test of one’s character comes when there exists no sphere of recognition potential, no roar and support of a crowd and no chance of fame or fortune. Being simply motivated by the genuine desire to help others, never entertaining the thought of self-interest, is the defining characteristic of a good mentor.

If you are lucky, and few of us are, at some point in your life you acquire a good mentor. Timing and chance aligned in my life and I was able to find one. I will forever count this mentor as a cherished and dear friend.

And that is my take,

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

Pictured is Dr. Randy Scott and I at Mountain West Animal Hospital

My Take Tuesday: Weathering the Storm

Spring has arrived in Utah County, and with it will likely come the rain and loud crashes of thunder that are characteristic of this season here on the Wasatch front. 

For some pets, along with those Spring storms, comes extreme noise or storm phobia. It can be heartbreaking to watch: Even before the first clap of thunder, otherwise well-behaved dogs begin to pace, pant, cling to their owners, hide in the closet, or jam themselves behind the toilet. In severe cases, they’ll claw through drywall, chew carpets, or break through windows in their escalating panic. This “phobia” is common in dogs, with some studies estimating that up to 20% are affected to some degree. We don’t always know why some animals are afraid and others seem to do just fine. We do know that this phobia involves physiologic, emotional, and behavioral components. Therefore, the management options for this condition vary from pet to pet, and each case is treated individually. 

The standard therapy for canine behaviors that are fear-driven includes desensitization. But thunderstorm phobia is an exception, because it’s difficult to mimic all the different triggers that set off a fear response – in particular changes in barometric pressure, static electricity, and whatever scents dogs seem to notice with an impending change in the weather.

In addition, desensitization is first and foremost about either eliminating or controlling the dog’s exposure to the feared stimulus. Obviously, depending on where the dog lives, it’s impossible to do this with any success when you’re dealing with a thunderstorm phobia.

Another problem is that desensitization has to be done in each room of the house, because the new coping skill your dog learns in the living room will be forgotten in the kitchen. These challenges make desensitization attempts much less successful and effective when it comes to storm phobias.

A misconception is that storm related troubles don’t happen to cats.  It is harder to detect in cats because they like to run and hide when they are upset.  We may not notice the cat has become scarce.  Dogs manifest signs in different and usually more visible ways.  Some may pace and pant.  Others may become destructive; digging, urinating, causing damage to your home and even themselves.  They may howl or whine.  A dog that is inside may want to be outside and a dog that is usually outside may make a break for the door to come in.  

Cats might like some extra attention from you during a storm.  A treat saved for just such times could help as well.  

If you have an outside dog, allowing him in for a bit might relieve some of the stress.  Turn on a television or radio.  Some dogs may prefer to be in a smaller space so a kennel or the bathroom might be comforting. Taking a dog out on a leash for a brief time during the noise and then returning inside to pet and play has been a successful treatment.  If worse comes to worst, there are some great anti-anxiety medications that you can get from your veterinarian. There is also a tight fighting jacket that has been developed and marketed to treat mild forms of anxiety. Also, if you like the natural approach, there is a pheromone that can help calm them. Results with this approach are mixed, but some do seem to benefit. It comes in a spray bottle, plug-in and convenient collar.  

In my experience, the most effective treatments include changing some features in the environment, applying some behavior modification techniques and, in many cases, some anti-anxiety medication.

While noise and storm phobias are common, they can be challenging to treat. It is best to address these cases using a multimodal approach, realizing that no one treatment will work every time in every dog. If your pet is among those that suffer from this condition, partner with your veterinarian to develop a management plan. 

And that is my take!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Plasticity of Parturion

Mongolian gazelle (Procapra gutturosa), are a medium-sized antelope with a heart-shaped patch of white fur on their rump. They are among the last great herds of migratory wildlife. Over 1.5 million of these antelope migrate across the vast expanse of Mongolia’s Eastern Steppe—the largest intact grassland in the world—as they search for forage throughout the year.

Herds of as many as 100,000 gazelle are commonly seen across the steppe with larger congregations occasionally reported. During the two weeks of the calving season, up to 400,000 females will gather, and the vast majority will give birth within a four-day period. This is a unique phenomenon. This is thought to be a strategy to reduce neonatal death loss due to predation. This synchronicity also ensures that the young will grow big enough by winter to survive the harsh weather. Some studies also hypothesize and attribute the synchronization of parturition to plant phenology, with birth occurring when there is maximum available forage.

This synchronization of parturition has been described in reindeer, caribou, alpacas, wildebeest and many other migratory species. It has also been described in other species such as the banded mongoose. Induction of parturition among animals varies greatly, but nearly all of them involve progestagens, estrogens, progtaglandins and oxytocin. These adaptations are not only beneficial to the offspring, but are mutualistic for the dam as well.

Nature has created many adaptations that we are just beginning to understand. Over thousands of years, these species have survived because of these unique adaptations. As we learn more about exactly how this phenomenon occurs, it will have a significant impact on use in species conservation and agricultural animal production.

Clearly, the future of this technology in the conservation of endangered species as well as in agricultural production will rely on our developing a better understanding of the interaction of reproductive function with such diverse aspects of animal management as behavior, nutrition, stress and genetics. Who knows, perhaps this technology application can also help humans.

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Where the Daffodils Grow 

On 22 August 1877 Brigham Young issued a formal call for settlers to locate in Castle Valley. This was the last such directive from the “Great Colonizer” before his death just 7 days later. If you have ever visited Emery County, you come away with the realization that the best was saved for last.

Castle Valley is a state of extremes, from the mystical beauty of the towering Wasatch Mountains to the west to the highest order of desolation in the San Rafael Desert on the east. Even there, among the sage brush and cedars, a pristine beauty beckons the attentive eye. 

My great- great grandfather – Boye Petersen heeded Brigham Young’s call and was one of the original settlers of Castle Dale. He homesteaded the West Farm – a 48 acre piece of land that our family still owns today. The straight road it is on connects Castle Dale with Orangeville and is aptly named Bott Lane. 

Growing up in Castle Dale helped me develop three unique character traits that have proven useful throughout my life.  I developed a strong work ethic, a vivid imagination and a unique self-awareness. This is home. There is something about Emery County that heals my soul. It is my constancy and my serene sanctuary where I can reflect and recharge. Even though I now reside two hours north in Utah County, I still feel connected and drawn to the well worn paths of my youth and the Blue Clay Hills just south of Castle Dale. I have Trail Mountain lightning running though my veins and the Castle Valley thunder pounding in my chest. 

Winters in Castle Valley can be brutal. The snow and ice seem to linger. Farm chores like milking and feeding cows are much more difficult the longer the winter draws on. Piles of cow manure freeze as solid as stone and the ground around water troughs turns into a sheet of ice. One cannot help but feel a longing for warmer weather and new life.

In late winter, each morning and afternoon, I would leave my parents’ house and cross the street on my way to the corral. I would walk along a shaded well-worn path along the east and south side of my uncle Jerry’s house. Between the edge of the house and the sidewalk, green stems would suddenly poke through the frozen ground. The first sight of these unassuming leaves beckons to the attentive eye that the worst of winter is passed and that spring is soon to follow. 

The leaves and stems grow quickly, symbolizing rebirth and new beginnings. They bloom with their cheery yellow hues. Each one is perfect, a golden trumpet amid a fanfare of halo petal. 

Daffodils are majestic, but so delicate, and they wave like tomorrow is guaranteed. After a few short weeks, they are gone, not returning for the remainder of the year. 

The Latin name for daffodil is Narcissus. It is believed to be named after the son of the river god from Greek mythology. 

Its blooming happiness may be fleeting but at the very least, it’s still enjoyed by those observant enough to see its beauty. They stand rooted, soaking in the sunshine and taking in yesterday’s rain through their fine roots. 

Daffodils remind me of my sweet uncle Jerry. He passed away in 2016. He was a gentle giant and, along with his twin brother Jeffry, are the kindest people I have even known. 

As the snow melts and the days get longer, the geese will return as a symbol of change. And once again natures palate will color Castle Valley. 

When the canyon rivers and mountain streams flow, spring will follow at last, in Castle Dale, UT, where the daffodils grow. 

And that is my take. 

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Quest For Excellence

The quest to compete is an inherent human feature. We are all born with a natural instinct, striving to be the best we can be. Elite athletes spend thousands of hours practicing; perfecting their swing, throw or shot. Musicians dedicate thousands of hours to practice the instrument of their choice, all in an effort to produce the best product that they are capable of.

I am intrigued that the term used to refer to the art of veterinary medicine is the word “practice”. I think a more appropriate phrase would be deliberate practice.

While regular practice might include mindless repetitions, deliberate practice requires focused attention and is conducted with the specific goal of improving performance. Deliberate practice refers to a special type of practice that is purposeful and systematic. Each day at my veterinary hospital I am presented with an array of cases. They vary from routine health examinations and vaccinations, to allergies, ear infections, fractures and surgical emergencies. In any given day, I perform a half a dozen surgeries and see around 30 appointments. I have been doing this day in and day out over the past 13 years.

Something I quickly learned as a newly practicing veterinarian was that it was impossible for me to know everything. There would always be an elusive diagnosis or a complicated clinical presentation that would completely contradict the veterinary school education and the knowledge of an experienced veterinarian. No matter how much I tried and cared, there would always be patients that I could not save, cases that I could not diagnose and clients that I could not satisfy. This reality was a bitter pill for me to swallow.

While I was a teenager, a cousin of mine named Jesse Bott shared with me an insightful observation. He cogently opined that, “Being better than someone else is nothing. However, being better than your old self is everything.”

This simple concept was life changing for me. My cousin Jesse was tragically killed in an automobile accident in 1998, but his counsel will forever guide my career and life choices.

Something that has distinguished me from other veterinarians is simply my desire to do something different. To provide a service or product that is unique. Trying to be better than someone else has really never entered my mind. I simply strive to be the best that I can be. This has brought me successes that I never dreamed possible when I entered veterinary school.

What does it take to succeed? What are the secrets of the most successful people? It has been shown that a certain number of traits including passion, perseverance, imagination, intellectual curiosity, and openness to experience– do significantly explain differences in success, but they are the certainly not the only factors.

An article in an issue of Fortune magazine indicated that we will achieve greatness only through an enormous amount of hard work over many years. . . . The good news is that[our] lack of a natural gift is irrelevant—talent has little or nothing to do with greatness. . . .
. . . Nobody is great without work. [Geoffrey Colvin, “What It Takes to Be Great,” Fortune 154, no. 9 (30 October 2006): 88]

As a practicing veterinarian, I continually strive to improve my knowledge and performance. Technology is rapidly evolving in the field of veterinary medicine and it is my responsibility to keep up with the research and technological advances that occur constantly.

This week, a majority of the team at Mountain West Animal Hospital are attending the Western Veterinary Conference in Las Vegas, NV. There are thousands of veterinarians and veterinary technicians that attend this massive event. This annual conference is something that we each look forward to. We attend 3 days of continuing education classes given by industry leaders and thinkers. In the exhibit hall, we see and receive hands-on experience with the latest in diagnostic and surgical equipment.

I always come away from this conference with a renewed resolve to be the best that I can possibly be.

As the lyrics of the popular country song, written by Ashley Gorley, read,
“I ain’t as good as I’m gonna get, But I’m better than I used to be.”

After all, that is the true measure of success.

And that is my take.
N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: Full Circle

It was a beautiful August day in 2005. The sun reflected off of the windows of the busses lined up in the parking lot as I stepped out of Bustad Hall. I could feel the sweat drip off the palms of my hands. As I walked across the parking lot, I lugged my suitcase behind. I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. As I boarded the bus, I peered out the window at the long line of strangers. I nervously realized that I didn’t know a single person. 

As we headed north through the rolling wheat fields of the Palouse, I thought about the upcoming days. The destination was Ross Point, a beautiful camp nestled along the scenic Spokane River. The next several days were to be spent with my 100+ of my veterinary school classmates at an event called the Cougar Orientation Leadership Experience (COLE).  

This program challenges incoming students to define their personal strengths and goals, build community with fellow students and faculty and consider their evolution from students to outstanding professionals. Veterinary schools across the world have modeled their orientation programs after this unique visionary experience first conceived at Washington State University. 

The next several days were filled with challenge by choice activities. I remember getting to know the people that I would spend the next 4 years with. It was a pleasant experience and a time of preparation and reflection. It was so helpful to have this experience prior to beginning a rigorous four-year program of veterinary education. This camp helped acclimate me to professional school and set the foundation for cooperation and teamwork over the next four years. 

In 2017, I returned to the Cougar Orientation Leadership Experience at Ross Point. I joined the class of 2021 as they kicked off their 4 years of veterinary school. I gave talks about the ups and downs of veterinary school and the opportunities that lie ahead following their graduation. 

The experience was surreal. 17 years have flown by so quickly! In so many ways, it seems like just a few months ago, that I sat in the very seats the new students now occupied. 

I saw the excitement in their eyes. I caught a glimpse of the dreams they have. I interacted with them late into the evening each night. It was a treasured experience and a true honor for me to be able to spend time with such a tremendous group of students. 

Time moves so quickly. As I look back on the last 17 years, I see the tremendous growth that I have experienced. The thousands of long arduous hours spent studying while in school are now just a fleeting memory. The classmates who became some of my dearest friends, are now practicing all over the world. 

I have been very fortunate. I have had many opportunities to learn and grow. I have had successes and failures, triumphs and defeats. It has been wonderful! I wouldn’t do anything different, as each experience has helped me become who I am. 

 I love what I do. I have been extremely blessed. The past 17 years have been full of adventures all over the world with animals of all types. I have followed my heart and intuition. It has been an exhilarating ride. I am excited for what the future holds.

And that is my take!
N. Isaac Bott, DVM

My Take Tuesday: The Interview

The day was February 14, 2005.  I sat nervously in the reception area of Bustad Hall. In front of me was a paper with an essay question, the question dealt with Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (BSE) and its implications on the current cattle market. My understanding of the disease at the time was very limited. I began my essay talking about the devastating effect that mad cow disease had on beef exports across the globe. 

Upon completion of my essay, I walked down the hall to a conference room. I sat at a table and a panel of 4 people then interviewed me for a spot in the Washington State University College of Veterinary Medicine class of 2009.

The odds were stacked against me. I was applying as a non-resident. Statistically, my chances of being accepted were only around 7%. My palms were sweating as the questions came. First, we talked about my mediocre grades in Chemistry. After struggling with the first semester of Organic Chemistry, I repeated the class with much better results. I discussed the difficulty of Ty Redd’s O-Chem class and the hundreds of hours I spent studying and reviewing the material. A grade of a B in this class was a huge relief for me. Although it fell short of an elusive A, I was confident that this arduous class had prepared me for the rigorous academic curriculum encountered during veterinary school. I was confident that Southern Utah University had prepared me well for professional school. 

Questions followed about current events, ethical situations, animal welfare and why I wanted to be a veterinarian. 

I remember leaving the interview relieved it was over, but very much unsure of my performance. 

Two weeks later, I received a call from the associate dean of the veterinary school at WSU. He extended to me an offer of admission to veterinary school. I remember the excitement I felt after hanging up the phone. I cried when I called home to tell my family the good news. So much hard work and time had gone into this. 

Little did I know that veterinary school would prove to be more challenging than I had ever anticipated. The next 4 years were filled with successes and failures, triumphs and defeat. But such is life.  Nothing of significance comes without hard work and the presentation of incommodious circumstances.  In the end, I successfully completed the program and received my Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. 

I remember the day of my interview so well. In fact, the feelings of anxiety crept back to me during the three years I spent serving on the admissions committee for the School of Veterinary Medicine at Utah State University. During my time on this committee, I was privileged to conduct the interviews of prospective veterinary students. Over two long days, we met with each candidate and asked questions very similar to the ones I was asked during my interview. I know the feeling they felt must have paralleled my own as I sat in their seat many years ago. 

This profession contains some of the finest people I have ever met. We are a group of very diverse backgrounds and interests, united with the commonality of a love for medicine, surgery, animals and communication with their owners. 

Looking back, I cannot imagine being anything other than a veterinarian. I love what I do. 

And That is My Take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM

Above the timberline, soaring over the lofty mountains of the Manti Lasal National Forest fly two bald eagles. The eagle flies higher than other birds, and its vantage point must exceed that of any other creature. An eagle’s eye is almost as large as a human’s but its sharpness is at least four times that of a person with perfect vision. The eagle can identify prey moving almost a mile away. That means that an eagle flying at an altitude of 1000 feet over open country could spot prey over an area of almost 3 square miles from a fixed position.

To glimpse the soaring splendor of a pair of majestic bald eagles is a rare and wonderful sight. These beautiful birds fly through the deep blue skies that surround Castle Valley.

For some unknown reason, this pair of eagles chose an unusual spot to call home and build their nest. Leaving behind the towering mountain cliffs and desolate desert that closely surround Castle Dale, they instead selected a small clump of Cottonwood trees located in the corner of an open dry land alfalfa patch.

I recall my father purchasing this land in the late 1980’s. We plowed the blue clay soil and planted alfalfa on the areas that were fertile enough to support crop production.

The very next year, while we were feeding cows, we noticed two bald eagles perched in the clump of Cottonwood trees at the bottom of the field. I recall thinking how unusual it was to see two bald eagles in the same tree.

During the next few months, these eagles built a massive nest. We watched as they carried sticks and bark from miles away. The nest was an engineering marvel, built high in the tree below the crown supported by large solid branch extending straight east. The nest was constructed of interwoven sticks. The interior was lined with grass, corn stalks, branches, and other material. The bowl was filled with soft materials and their own downy feathers.

I recall the first eaglets born on the farm. In a rare event, 3 offspring were hatched and successfully raised. I remember seeing the newborn eaglets. They are covered with gray down, and so light they almost appear white. It isn’t until years later that their characteristic white head feathers develop as they reach adulthood. The babies grow rapidly, adding about a half pound to a pound of body weight every week until they are about 9-10 weeks old.

Every spring, I watched as these birds hatched, learned to fly and left the nest. Year after year, decade after decade, this process repeated itself producing many successful offspring.

Each breeding season, material was added to the nest and it’s size increased by up to a foot in height and diameter each year. The nest became visible from great distances as its size increased.

The bald eagles were a welcome sight. Each year they would appear right before Christmas. I remember seeing them consistently every year while growing up. They stood perched, looking down on my every move. A feeling of safety and security ensued as these majestic guardians stood watch. Their presence inspired insight, bravery, and wisdom.

Although we all recognize the Bald Eagle as the national symbol of the United States, and as a proud icon of patriotism. I feel they could serve just as well or better as symbols of faithful monogamy. When one of these birds of prey finds his or her mate, the pair stays together for life. They are strong and independent; they are survivors. They are majestic and bold. They are a symbol of strength and determination.

February 14th coincided each year with the return of the magnificent birds to the nest in the cottonwood trees south of town.

There is safety in constancy, and measured security in consistency. I am glad that high in the blue skies above Castle Dale, there is a welcoming place, where the eagles fly.

Happy Valentine’s Day from Mountain West Animal Hospital!

N. Isaac Bott, DVM