Don’t Rock the Boat (Parts 1 & 2)
          

 

                        “That’s my test!” I exclaimed to the GenAlysis receptionist. “Not really, but six years and a month ago I did make the first call to Dr. Beever to see about developing it.” 

                        A proud moment for me, I could barely contain my excitement. I had just received a fax from the genetics lab, and in a little box to the right of my scrapie results were the words “Ectodermal dysplasia [ Hairy lamb syndrome ].”

                        Although I knew the commercial availability of the test was imminent, this was my first proof it was actually real, and the effort begun those six years ago truly worthwhile.

                        I was never going to mention my hairy lambs in one of these columns again. To be honest, some bitterness on my part played a role in that decision. But one night I made a discovery that put a lot of things in perspective, and I felt compelled to tell this story. I guess you could say “it was in my genes.”    

                        While looking for an old photograph in a hutch by our kitchen, I found a far greater treasure- the Spring / Summer 1982 edition of The Speculum, a newsmagazine published by Ohio State’s College of Veterinary Medicine. Inside was an article about a retiring professor and the book he wanted to write, “Don’t Rock the Boat”, a memoir on “the foibles and political intrigue of university life.”

                        Included was advice he often gave his students: “The price you pay for nonconformity is non-acceptance. But go ahead if you can stand the non-acceptance- that’s how things get done.”

                         Last November, my five year stint as a member of the board of directors of the American Southdown Breeders Association came to an end. Minutes from the board meeting state that I didn’t seek re-election. One reason for that is because I was never elected to begin with. The true reason, though, is that I wasn’t intrigued by the politics anymore, just tired of it. 

                        In May 2007, I was appointed by the association president to chair a committee to find a solution to a problem that had been plaguing our breed for over twenty years- hairy lambs. These lambs are born not with wool but a short, silky, curly hair-coat, have a fine bone structure, and a jaw deformity resulting in a “parrot-mouth”.  

                        My first hairy lamb was born in the spring of 2006, and presented a “What the heck is that?” scenario. Was the poor little creature caused by a viral infection, a toxic plant or some kind of vitamin / mineral deficiency? When the second was born a year later, a familial link surfaced. The third and fourth born two weeks after that were nails in the genetic coffin.

                         My first act as chairman was to contact Dr. Jonathan Beever, a molecular geneticist at the University of Illinois, and one of the best livestock geneticists in the world. Perhaps it was his professorial aura, but something about him reminded me of my dad, and I sensed that he, too, might be a bit of a boat-rocker.

                        Immediately we set about to collect blood samples from hairy lambs, their parents and siblings, and study pedigrees to look for common ties. In November of that year I was asked to fill a board seat vacated by a retiring member. 

                        It didn’t take me long to realize that on a board full of sheep sellers I was probably one of the few, if not the only one, who represented buyers. And the really big sellers didn’t want anything or anybody to disrupt that process. 

                        Soon I began to hear this phrase: “We can’t be pointing fingers at anyone.”  I didn’t have to. The sheep with their ear-tags and registration papers did all the pointing necessary, and without exception, every hairy lamb I was privy to, and their associated pedigrees, pointed in the same direction. 

 

                        Hairy lambs had been reported from Texas to Minnesota and Massachusetts to California, and they all traced to a single flock located in the center of our nation. Apparently, sweeping bad recessive genes under the rug doesn’t make them go away; it just spreads them farther and wider. 

                        When I joined the sixteen member board, I became the thirteenth to have the problem in my flock; I simply didn’t know the status of the other three. Yet during the first two years of sample collecting, besides the president and me, only one other board member provided any samples. I found that profoundly disappointing. 

                        To be fair, I guess they were trying to protect their flocks. Unfortunately, not enough of them recognized I was trying to do the same- for theirs as well as my own.   

                                                                                                            …to be continued

                   
                                                        Don’t Rock the Boat, Part II

                         

                        By the summer of 2008, Dr. Beever began to employ new technology called single nucleotide polymorphism or SNP testing. I can’t even pretend to understand how it works, but it was supposed to be a faster method to uncover and identify genetic disorders using glass slides called “chips,” already mapped out genomes, and computers. Our hairy lamb problem was to be one of the first sheep conditions to utilize this tool.

 

                        That November, our vice-president, who happened to be the son of the owner of the suspected source flock, became president, and I was promptly relieved of my command and replaced by one of his friends. Needless to say, I was pretty much kept out of the hairy lamb loop after that, officially at least.

 

                        But breeders still called me about possible cases, and late one night, another board member expressed concern that someone might try to “derail the project.”

 

                        The next morning I called Dr. Beever and asked him this simple question: “Is there anything anyone can do or say to you to make you stop working on this?”

 

                        Dr. Beever, who can “go on and on and on” when talking about molecular genetics, in normal conversation is usually quite succinct. “No!”  was his reply.

 

                        A few lines of conversation later, though, he did add in reference to me, “You don’t have many friends.”

 

                        “Do I have you?”  I asked somewhat sheepishly.

 

                        “You bet. Absolutely.”

 

                        He had been through this kind of political stuff before with virtually every breed of every species he dealt with. If I could only have one friend, he was the one to have.

 

                         Still, my critics may have been justified. I probably was a tad overzealous in my approach. But the motive for that was clear to me, if not to anyone else. Real people were spending and losing real money on these sheep, and if our breed was going to continue to prosper, this problem had to be solved and solved quickly. 

 

                         I vividly recall a conversation I had with a grandfather from Illinois. His grandson had purchased a ram and a ewe for a fair amount of money, bred them, fed them over winter, and ended up with worthless hairy lambs the next spring.

 

                        Sympathizing with his frustration, I told him, “I know how you feel. I’ve had eleven of them.”

 

                        “Eleven! What did you do with the ewes?” he inquired.

 

                        “I got rid of most of them, but I kept two or three.”

 

                        When he asked “Why?” I hesitated a moment, then told the truth. “Because their mothers cost $3000.”

 

                        “Oh my God! Wait till I tell my grandson. That’ll make him feel a lot better!”

 

                        Yes, these were expensive sheep. Carriers of this defective gene included sale toppers, show champions, even National Show champions. My intent from the beginning, my reason for wanting to develop a test, was not to destroy these genetics or the flocks they came from, it was to save them, and move forward with non-carrier offspring to strengthen and improve the breed.

 

                        Over the next couple of years, however, there were setbacks with the new technology. The SNP chips used contained only a portion of the sheep genome, and Dr. Beever was not able to isolate our specific gene defect on them. The really bad news was that it might be two to three years before a more complete chip would be available.

 

                        So imagine my surprise on December 21, 2011, when I received an e-mail from him that read: “Do you want to test your entire flock with a new DNA-based test for hairy lamb?” Did I? You bet. Absolutely!

 

                        I’m not sure exactly what he did, but he somehow compared our original samples to blood from a non-Southdown flock and narrowed down the suspicious gene location, I think the old-fashioned way.

 

                        Over the next six months several hundred Southdowns were tested and although I can’t recall the precise numbers, I do remember that 18% were deemed carriers, which ironically is what I had in my flock [ 26/141 ] and I knew I had a problem!

 

                        To their credit, at the 2012 annual meeting the board voted that as of September 1, 2013, all Southdown sheep consigned to national level sales will have to be ectodermal dysplasia free, and as of January 1, 2014, all sheep entered in national level shows will have to be free as well.

 

                        Never again will Southdown enthusiasts have to suffer the emotional and financial disappointment of hairy lambs.

 

                        Don’t rock the boat? No. If the boat needs rocked, then rock the hell out of it. That’s how things get done. Thank you, Dad. And thank you Dr. Beever.

 

Author: Dr. John Jones