A pair of noisy miner birds perch on the broad back of an Angus cow, one of many pregnant cattle waiting patiently along the wiry fence of Barb Stewart and John Sonnet’s 800-acre farm.

Set against the cascading hills of The Gurdies, the property has been in the Stewart family since 1974. A beef farm, surrounded by small acreages brimming with alpacas, goats and donkeys—families chasing a slice of the rural Australian dream.

But a quiet crisis has been brewing. With calving season still months away, Stewart and Sonnet are already on edge—watching for early signs of trouble, unsure when, or if, a vet will come.

The Australian Veterinary Association has told MOJO News that its workforce shortage is being "felt more acutely in rural and regional areas." 

Its 2023-24 survey of the workforce shows 44 per cent of regional positions have remained vacant for more than 12 months or were still unfilled. 

Its more recent data from May this year shows the sector employs 29,000 people with approximately 15,000 vets. 

When Korumburra Veterinary Clinic ceased large-animal services, it left animal owners without critical support.

"It’s been really frustrating at times,” Stewart said.

“It’s always been quite difficult in our area getting out a vet.”

On properties like hers, emergencies don’t wait. A cow in distress during calving can become a life or death situation in minutes—but help is often many kilometres away. “If you’ve got a cow calving…it needs to be virtually … in the next 15 minutes, which is impossible because of distance,” Stewart said.

“It is imperative that you have a vet that can help with bringing the calf out alive and safely," she said. 

"Because time is everything.”

These days, Stewart and Sonnet rely on Gippsland Vets in Wonthaggi—the nearest clinic that still treats large-animals—but it’s a 35-kilometre drive.

“Everybody would like to have a large-animal vet, you know, closer,” Stewart said.

But with only a handful of large-animal vets servicing a wide stretch of Gippsland, visits often operate on a triage-waiting list.

“Depends on where you are on the list … they tend to sort of then put you up,” Stewart said, if the case is deemed serious.

Stewart isn’t surprised by the shortage. When asked why she think fewer vets are going into large animal practice, her answer is practical.

“It’s far more economically viable for vets to go into domestic dogs and cats rather than large animals,” Stewart said.

“They’re easier to manage.”

'A Lonely Profession'

Sean Madigan, a horse vet from the Melbourne Equine Veterinary Group, spends his mornings driving to racecourses in Pakenham to treat racehorses—but even in his highly specialised role, his experiences reflect broader industry challenges.

“You’re working on your own a lot of times, so that can be difficult," Madigan said. 

"You’ve got to make your own decisions- It can be quite a lonely profession as well.”

Madigan often drives up to 200 kilometres a day, and while he is not based in Gippsland, his insights reflect the reality of large-animal vets across regional Victoria: long, isolated hours, emotional fatigue, and safety risks.

“You need to be very cautious,” he said.

With 30 per cent of vets looking to leave the industry in the next five years, Madigan attributes the exodus to unmet expectations.

“They get into it and not realise what is involved,” Madigan said.

“A lack of structure around career paths as well, a lack of support from employers have a lot to do with it.”

It’s a trend contributing not just to regional gaps, but to a national shortage—with the average time to fill Veterinarian vacancies being 25 weeks in 2023.

A Shortage of Skill and Services, Not Just Staff

At Elouera Stud run by Kate Grossek, the pace is constant. In her mud-streaked boots, she moves briskly between animals—tossing clumps of hay to a pair of impatient Andalusian mares leaning over the fence, a trail of dachshund puppies nipping at her heels.

Grossek has spent years breeding horses, donkeys, dogs and goats—but has stopped breeding goats. The issue wasn’t space or time, but a lack of veterinary support.

“The lack of veterinary knowledge of goats was one of the huge issues,” she said.

Even when a vet was available, “they didn’t know what to do because they…[only] do one subject on goats at university.”

The AVA said in a statement to MOJO News, that getting veterinary students out to rural areas meant "they are experiencing regional veterinary practice first-hand while they are studying."

"It becomes a more realistic career option once they graduate."

But the Association said other factors contributing to the challenge of increasing veterinary numbers included access to services like childcare, requirements for after-hours work and availability of accommodation and housing. 

But Stewart and Sonnet have seen, too—young vets arriving on their property, unprepared for the complexities of large-animal care.

“Just lacking in experience…to the point where, as farmers, you’d say, don’t do that,” Stewart said.

“With larger animals, I think vets need experience,” she said.

“This requires other…older vets” to mentor them—but those mentors are becoming fewer and fewer."

And while Stewart and Sonnet are confident treating common issues themselves—like managing pink eye, they worry about those who aren’t.

“I don’t think that they have a depth of knowledge,” Stewart said of the growing number of hobby farmers in the region.

Without that hands-on experience or access to reliable vet care, they are especially vulnerable in a system increasingly stretched thin.

Hobby Farmers At Risk

Danny Dyanll, a veteran shearer based in Lang Lang who also teaches at Koo Wee Rup Secondary College, sees firsthand the difficulties hobby farmers face in the absence of veterinary support.

With over 769 customers and 4,000 animals sheared annually, he works mostly with small landholders.

“The problem is with hobby farms, a normal farm has got a crush yard, it’s a good setup,” he said.

“But hobby farms, you come to a farm, and they haven’t got the facilities and the set up so it’s too dangerous for vets.”

A proper crush yard, essential for safely handling livestock, costs around $18,000 (AUD)—a cost many recreational farmers are unwilling to pay.

And yet, hobby farming is on the rise, with over 60,000 properties in Australia classified as hobby or recreational farms. Their dependence on vet care, combined with inadequate facilities, places vets in challenging and often unsafe positions.

“There was way more [vets] years ago…there’s a lot less now, way less,” Dyanll said.

 He has increasingly taken on quasi-veterinary responsibilities including "Vaccinating, lambing, pulling out alpacas, birth trouble…broken legs."

Searching for Solutions

The conversation isn’t new. Stewart said the issue has come up often on 'beef forums,' where farmers agreed that they “need to support large animal vets and their practices far more than what is happening.”

She said the answer lies in stronger backing “from the government direction or the Veterinary Association.”

The AVA said the shortage has been going on nationally for eight years and added that "it is advocating for placement support and education debt forgiveness to help support vet students and new graduates."

"This financial incentive helps vets stay in regional areas long enough to put down roots and stay in the longer term," the AVA said.

Some, like Grossek, have taken matters into their own hands.

After training with a vet in Queensland, she has built enough knowledge to manage most treatments herself—though some emergencies and surgeries still leave her at a loss.

And despite the urgency, clear solutions remain elusive.

“I don’t think anybody’s come up with good answers yet,” Madigan said.

Answers may be slow to arrive—but the spring calving season won’t wait.