Environmental steward to heritage cow whisperer – one veterinary student’s journey
Kim Kirkbride never imagined that her biggest regret would become her greatest gift to Virginia's struggling rural communities.
Standing in a pen last summer, sweat dripping, as she and her teammates worked over the course of 7 hours to vaccinate, treat pink eye, and castrate 420 beef calves with focused precision, the third-year veterinary student felt something click into place. This wasn't just another clinical rotation. This was coming home.
"I thought, 'Yes, I am on the right path. This is precisely what I want to do, "Kirkbride said, remembering that grueling but exhilarating day during her production management medicine rotation.
The moment carried extra weight because it nearly never happened. As an undergraduate at Virginia Tech studying biology and planning for veterinary school 15 years earlier, Kirkbride made what seemed like a sensible decision. She loved veterinary medicine but couldn't see herself working indoors all day. She wanted to be outside, working on conservation and land use. So, she didn't apply to veterinary school.
Instead, she spent more than a decade working on land conservation, learning the ins and outs of grazing systems, and eventually buying a small farm in Giles County, where she raises Dexter cattle and Icelandic sheep. She became exactly what she thought she wanted to be — until she started calling veterinarians for her own animals.
The awakening
"I would call with all kinds of questions where I was just wondering about disease processes and treatments," Kirkbride said. "I just wanted to know everything that they knew."
Working with the Virginia-Maryland College of Veterinary Medicine and production management faculty and residents, Kirkbride discovered something that changed everything. She was personally less interested in the business side of farming, but thimal husbandry and medicine fascinated her completely.
Facing the reality in her 30s that she might forever wonder "what if," Kirkbride decided to apply to veterinary school.
"I felt regret that I hadn't pursued vet med right after college. But I thought it couldn't hurt to apply now, and at least then I could tell myself I had tried. I never expected to get in, but now I can't imagine being anywhere else."
Perfect timing for an imperfect world
Kirkbride's unconventional journey positioned her perfectly for one of Virginia's most pressing agricultural challenges. The state faces a critical shortage of large animal veterinarians, particularly in rural areas where farms desperately need veterinary care for livestock.
The numbers tell a stark story. Aging veterinarians are retiring faster than new graduates are entering food animal practice. Many new veterinarians choose companion animal medicine over the physical demands, extensive travel, and often lower financial returns of large animal work. Rural farms struggle with delayed veterinary care, threatening animal welfare, food safety, and regulatory compliance.
State officials recognized the crisis, with recent legislation creating a grant program to attract more large animal veterinarians to underserved rural areas. The initiative supports Virginia's agricultural communities and addresses workforce shortages that threaten the viability of livestock operations throughout the state.
For Kirkbride, this shortage represents opportunity wrapped in purpose.
"For a lot of reasons, my timing is just right for me. My life experiences have really helped me as a student, and I think they will continue to help me in my career. And it feels good that something that is my passion is very much in need."
The heritage difference
Kirkbride's farming experience gives her something most veterinary graduates lack — a genuine understanding of producers' perspectives and financial realities.
On her small farm, she raises heritage breeds specifically chosen for their ability to finish on pasture. Rotational grazing is a key element of her farm. Her Dexter cattle, an Irish breed known for being docile, are a great choice for people without much cattle experience. Her Icelandic sheep are a triple-purpose breed, evolved in harsh conditions, that require no grain supplementation and possess strong maternal instincts.
"I was interested in thrifty breeds that do well on marginal land and rotational grazing, because that's what I have," Kirkbride explained. "Standard breeds of cows and sheep —they're really good at what they've been selected for, but they weren't the best fit for me as a solo beginning farmer or for the systems on my farm."
This practical knowledge translates directly to veterinary practice. When producers hesitate to invest in better facilities or preventive care, Kirkbride understands their reluctance and can explain why certain investments pay dividends.
"I personally know that it can feel cost-prohibitive to front money for handling equipment and facilities," she said. "But so many things ripple out from that. If it's difficult to work your cows, lots of health issues stem from that management decision. It's easy to make a recommendation without considering the real costs and challenges to the producer, but I see it from both perspectives. Hopefully, that will help me be a better communicator."
Learning from the masters
During her clinical rotations, Kirkbride thrived in environments that would challenge many urban-raised students. When John Currin, clinical associate professor of Production Management Medicine, warned four students that any weak link would slow down care for 420 calves, Kirkbride and her teammates, Ryane Cronk, Dani Ingalls, and Gabby Cruse, rose to the challenge.
"He told us we needed to work as a team," she recalled. "Every animal deserves proper attention, but we also had to be efficient — if we took extra time with each one unnecessarily, we'd be there for hours longer."
The students worked so hard they didn't want to break for lunch, rotating through different tasks every few hours and finding their rhythm. Each calf received vaccinations, fly tags, and any needed treatments. It was precisely the kind of demanding, collaborative work that drew Kirkbride to large animal medicine.
"That's the thing I like so much about food animal medicine — you need multiple people to do a lot of things," she said. "It's fun to work together like that."
Reading the animals
Perhaps Kirkbride's most valuable skill comes from years of hands-on experience with livestock behavior. She learned on the Diné (Navajo) reservation, herding Navajo Churro sheep across desert landscapes, that large animals mirror their handlers' energy.
"If I'm a ball of stress, they're just going to scatter and avoid me," she said. "I think for me, working with large animals that some people view as unpredictable or dangerous — it's a chance for me to be centered and calm so the animal handling is smoother."
This understanding extends beyond individual animals to farm management philosophy. Kirkbride views veterinary medicine and conservation as natural partners, recognizing that farming lies at the intersection of animal health and environmental stewardship.
"The environmental health of your farm — the quality of your pasture, quality of your waterways, plant diversity—all of that ties into animal nutrition," she explained. "I see farming as the intersection of Vet Med and conservation, actually."
The future beckons
Kirkbride's post-graduation plan is straightforward: a rural mixed animal practice, with half ambulatory calls and half clinic work. She'll go anywhere for strong mentorship.
"I realized I should probably not just limit my geographic area so much, even though I own a farm here," she said. "I'll figure that out. I'd like to come back here, ultimately."
Her timing is perfect. Aging rural veterinarians are retiring across Virginia, leaving practices that need someone who understands both medicine and the realities of farming. Someone who's wrestled with whether to spend money on better facilities. Someone who knows that animal health, land stewardship, and farm economics aren't separate problems—they're one challenge with three faces.
