Ode to Stomachs

I had these ambitious thoughts when I finished my Ph.D. at the end of July (hooray!) that when I started vet school in August (hooray!) I'd be able to blog each week about my experiences.

Boy did I think wrong. Since I often have to choose between diversions now--do I want to sleep or read email?--my blogging has fallen to the wayside. I want to change that, though. It's already February, so it's a little late for a New Year's Resolution. Instead, I'll call it a goal.

I'm going to start sharing the creative things that come up at school. Yesterday, for example, our class completed our GI Physiology lecture series with the annual Gut Poetry Contest. I had a last-minute entry and won second place, which was a beautiful portrait of a Holstein cow, painted by an artist in PA. You couldn't have asked for a more appropriate prize since my poem was entitled "Ode to Ruminant Stomachs." I hope you enjoy it.

I was tired of being a monogastric.
Becoming a ruminant sounds fantastic!
No one is bothered if I eructate;
there’s nothing like belching in front of your date!
My new roughage diet is super-cheap,
But pasture’s hard to find in Wisconsin’s snow heaps.
I can purchase TMR to meet all my nutrition,
allowing bacteria to multiply by division.
Housing a hardworking bacterial population
provides me with VFAs from their fermentation.
Breaking beta-1-4 bonds is their special skill.
With the enzyme cellulase, they do it at will.

My diet is, quite frankly, a little bland and boring,
But it saves me choosing among cereals each morning.
My muscles of mastication are all well-defined
from chewing my cud, leaving no food behind.
I graze all day, throughout all my classes,
munching on legumes, concentrates, and grasses.
No more buying citrus fruits for vitamin C;
I generate my own ascorbic acid, baby!

Being a ruminant isn’t very hard;
If I get hungry, I’ll have a snack in the yard.
“But,” you ask, “can’t things go horribly wrong?”
Well, yes, my friend, that list could be long:
There’s bloat from gases, rumen acidosis,
volvulus (that’s displacement), or ketosis.
Sure makes me think twice about munching that hay.
Perhaps I’ll save rumination until I can afford to pay—
the vet bill.