60 Second Summary: A South Island farmer's IBR outbreak
It started with one sick two-year-old in late summer — high fever, heavy nasal discharge, struggling to breathe. Within days, more cows were down. Antibiotics and anti-inflammatories did nothing, because IBR is a virus. The two-year-olds were hit hardest.
The cost was severe: production collapsed, sick cows were dried off mid-season, and a number of the affected young cows lost their pregnancies. Many of those still in the herd carry permanent airway damage and have never returned to their genetic potential.
The hardest lesson was that her animals were "fully vaccinated" — 7-in-1, 10-in-1, the full recommended programme. But none of those cover IBR. Unless an IBR vaccine is specifically added, the herd is unprotected. And once it hits, there's nothing to throw at it. As she put it, "the feeling of helplessness is the worst part — because no drugs are able to treat it once they've got the issue."
Her message to other farmers: the vaccine exists, and after what she and her cows went through, she calls it a no-brainer — for productivity and for animal welfare.
How it started
It began in late summer with a single two-year-old cow.
"All of a sudden she had a huge discharge from her nose, she couldn't breathe, her chest was going in and out, trying to catch her breath, and she had pus starting to come out from her eyes as well." Her temperature was almost 41°C. The vet was called immediately. Antibiotics and anti-inflammatories were started straight away — and did nothing. Then the next day, a couple more cows started showing signs. The day after that, more again.
"That was at the point I got really worried, especially because the first cow still wasn't responding to any treatment that we'd given her." The animals hit hardest were the two-year-olds — the younger cows, still finding their feet, with immune systems that hadn't fully developed.
"That was also sort of heartbreaking — because you had these good young two-year-olds who had done everything right on your herd so far, and all of a sudden they were really sick."
The first impact was immediate: production dropped off a cliff. The sickest cows simply stopped making milk, and walking them to the shed twice a day felt cruel given how hard they were working just to breathe. They were dried off. Some came back into milk weeks later, after a long recovery. Others didn't.
Then came the pregnancy losses.
A number of the affected two-year-olds lost their pregnancies. That left two options on the table for each animal: cull her from the herd, or carry her over at a grazing cost with no income to show for it.
"I ended up keeping a large number of those young cows that lost their pregnancies, because to me it wasn't their fault that this issue had happened, and I thought, well, I don't want to lose all my young genetics from my herd."
Most calved back in the following season. But almost all of them carry permanent damage — to their nasal passages, to their breathing. A couple had to be removed from the herd later because they simply couldn't handle it anymore. The ones still in the herd? Their production isn't where it should be. It isn't anywhere near their genetic potential.
One of the things that hits hardest about this story is that nothing was being neglected.
"My animals had always been fully vaccinated as per the vet's recommendation. So they'd had their 7-in-1 or the 10-in-1, or whatever they were supposed to be getting, they'd got. But in this case, those animals had no immunity whatsoever when IBR hit the herd."
This is the part farmers often miss. A standard vaccination programme — even a thorough one — doesn't include cover for IBR unless an IBR vaccine has been specifically added in. Clostridial vaccines protect against clostridial diseases. They don't touch IBR. If you've never specifically vaccinated for IBR, your herd is unprotected for IBR. It's that simple.
Ask this farmer what was hardest about going through it, and the answer isn't the lost milk or the lost pregnancies or even the cull decisions. It's something else.
"The feeling of helplessness is the worst part I found — because no drugs are able to treat it once they've got the issue."
IBR is a virus. Once an outbreak takes hold, antibiotics don't shift it. Anti-inflammatories don't shift it. You can support the animals, manage the secondary issues, and wait. That's it. The damage that's done is done. That's why the prevention conversation matters so much more than the treatment conversation. With IBR, by the time you're treating, you've already lost.
She kept working closely with her vet through the whole thing. That relationship — being able to pick up the phone, get advice, get someone out — mattered. But the lesson she took away from it is simple, and she's clear-eyed about it now.
"I just never want to go through that again, to be honest. I never want to deal with IBR again. And the fact that there's a vaccine out there is amazing — because I will always use that from now on. It's a no-brainer for my productivity, and it's also a no-brainer for animal welfare."
Her message to other farmers who haven't dealt with IBR — and might be wondering whether it's worth thinking about?
"Any farmer dealing with IBR, my heart goes out to you. It's not nice. So anyone — I would say, just please use the vaccine. Because it's not worth going through, certainly what me and more so my cows went through."
If you're reading this and thinking that won't happen here — it's worth pausing on a few things from this story:
Talk to your vet about IBR vaccination →
