Editor’s note: This is the first of a two-part series focusing on a day in the life of a large-animal veterinarian’s practice in the tri-corner region.
STANFORDVILLE — To travel with Dr. Isaac Angell of Bentley Veterinary Practice for a day was to witness a veterinary practitioner completely enamored with his work, and deeply connected to the region where he does that work.
Bentley Veterinary is a large-animal practice that specializes in farm animals. Its patients tend to fall on the large, stinky and hard-working side of the domesticated animal kingdom rather than the small, fluffy and genteel side.
On a recent January morning as we wended our way through the misty, dramatic hills of eastern Dutchess County and Litchfield County in Angell’s mobile animal-care truck — equipped with ultrasound, an array of medications, and surgical capabilities — Angell took the time between our various stops to share reflections from a lifelong devotion to veterinary medicine.
“I have a deep excitement for what we do. A tremendous respect for the field of veterinary medicine, and for my fellow practitioners … I often say it’s the animals that get you in, and it’s the people that make you stay.”
A soft-spoken man, quick to smile and quicker still to shift the spotlight from himself, Angell reiterated throughout the day his desire for our time together to spotlight the whole of veterinary medicine rather than his work alone.
“I think about that quote from ‘The Boys in the Boat’: ‘You can’t just write about me, you gotta write about the boat!’ The whole picture, the difficult parts and the joyful parts, are what make the job what it is … Still, for me, being a vet has always been a passionate dream.”
An average day for Angell or the other three veterinarians at Bentley often includes three to four visits — on busy days, that looks more like six or seven. While that might sound manageable, Angell’s practice offers service to an area larger than some states, from Canaan, Connecticut, to Woodstock, New York, to Great Barrington, Massachusetts. Much of Angell’s day is spent on the road between properties.
The necessity for this kind of travel can be traced to decades-long changes to the social and economic geography of the region. In 1972, there were 275 working dairy farms in Dutchess County. In 2022, there were just 15. While dairy production in the region has steadily increased, belying an emphasis on industrial-scale dairy farming, the number of working farmers has dropped steeply off a cliff.
“Growing up, on my road alone there were 10-11 dairy farms. Now there’re none.”
Angell and his wife and five children are the fourth generation of Angells to live on his family’s property. While he loves to work with all the clients he provides service to, Angell admitted to a bit of a soft spot for those who make a living working with animals: the vocational farmers that have grown rarer and rarer in the region. Helping those folks when able keeps him connected to the culture and tradition he was raised in.
Our day’s journey very much emphasized those connections, and consisted of three farm visits and a few social calls.
Old goats, vaccine shots, and estate farming
Our first stop was at a beautiful estate farm in the Northeast Corner. Angell characterizes estate farms as those properties owned by wealthier folks with a large amount of land and a desire to use some of that land for small-scale farming. Often, these estates hire full-time workers to manage the land and care for the animals, and those workers frequently come from the pool of inter-generational farming families that used to operate farms of their own.
Two old goats, 15 years apiece, and three donkeys received Angell’s practiced care that day.
Aside from the unending stares, everybody behaved themselves — shots were administered with minimal kicking and teeth were checked without biting. In addition to providing medical services, Angell also gave the animals’ caregivers advice on what feed to use, how much to give, and even where to buy certain products at a reasonable price.
The conversation between Angell and the property managers was easy and familiar, and the importance of maintaining good relationships is an element to his work that Angell considers both crucial to his success and one of the major perks of the job.
“I was taught pretty early on the value of developing a rapport with a client. You can’t treat the animal without the client.”
Angell’s range of clients means he often has to meet folks where they’re at in terms of the relationship they have to their animals. In addition to vocational farms, Bentley Veterinary works with three main types of clients: rescues and sanctuaries, backyard or estate farms, and equine organizations. An animal sanctuary may have thousands to spend on animal care, and a mission-driven investment in pursuing involved treatments. At a vocational farm, the reality can come down to economics, and many farms don’t have the money to spare.
Accordingly, Angell tries to approach every client with empathy and an understanding of where their decisions might be coming from, whether it’s a deep attachment to an animal or, sometimes, the lack of it. Developing a relationship with the person behind the animal helps him understand those perspectives and offer the kind of care that will align with their needs.
This clueing-in to the emotional component of veterinary medicine is an element to the job that Angell considers vitally important as well as often underemphasized.
“Unless you let it affect you on an emotional level, you’re not doing it right. You’ve got to have some sleepless nights, worrying about a case, or you’re not going to push yourself to become better quite as hard.”
Our day required little by way of difficult decisions —and on the estate farm, it was as clear as day that the property managers cared deeply for the animals in their charge. They worried after the right balance of feed to avoid bloat, mused on the personalities of the donkeys, and remarked on some of the humorous side effects of their job.
“Working with animals, you get used to a whole bouquet of smells you never thought you’d get used to. Knowing, ‘Oh, that’s not right!’ when you catch a hoof smelling a particular way.”
The Berkshire Resilience Brass Band brought lively brass and jazz-inspired music to the lawn at the David M. Hunt Library on Friday evening, July 24.
Audience members became part of the performance as well. During one number, the horn players switched to percussion, while a basket of rattles and other handheld instruments was available for audience members to play along. Sadeh and O’Dea encouraged several young children to shake along with the music.
The audience continued to grow throughout the evening, including a family who stopped after hearing the music while driving by.
Although the band’s performances sound spontaneous, they begin with a shared musical framework.
“We start with a tune or arrangement,” Rogers said. “Then we do or don’t follow it.”
Rogers estimated that any given performance is at least half improvisation.
It’s not left entirely to chance. O’Dea said the group rehearses once a week, on Sundays.
Patrick L. Sullivan
Deanna Hearn opened Lucky Orphans in 2003.
Growing up in the Bronx, Hearn was captivated whenever she saw horses. Her grandfather, a Korean War veteran, had cared for military horses during the war. After returning home, he struggled with addiction, and the invisible wounds of military service. Through every difficult chapter of his life, however, one thing consistently brought him peace.
“Horses bring peace,” he told his granddaughter.
When Hearn was 11, after years apart, Hearn and her grandfather began spending weekends riding together. Less than a year later, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Before he died, he asked family members to help buy Hearn’s first horse — a stubborn paint horse that bit, kicked and frequently threw her off. She wanted to sell him. Her father refused.
“Every life has value,” he told her.
Looking back, Hearn says that lesson became the foundation of everything she would later build.
What began as a boarding stable in 2003 took a different direction after the Dutchess County SPCA asked Hearn to care for horses seized in cruelty cases. She soon realized that although Dutchess County had one of New York’s largest horse populations, there was no dedicated nonprofit equipped to care for neglected and abused horses. Lucky Orphans officially became a nonprofit in 2008.
Some of the more than 40 horses at Lucky OrphansProvided
Today, Hearn is quick to point out that Lucky Orphans is not simply a rescue.
“We’re a sanctuary,” she said.
Many of the more than 40 horses living there arrive with broken bones, chronic illnesses, heart conditions, missing eyes or other injuries that make them unsuitable for riding or adoption. Rather than rehabilitating and rehoming them, Lucky Orphans makes a lifetime commitment to every horse.
In 2013, Hearn became certified in equine-assisted psychotherapy, combining her lifelong relationship with horses and the lessons she learned from her grandfather to create programs for veterans, trauma survivors, children and families facing emotional challenges. The transformations she witnesses continue to surprise her. She recalls one woman who arrived convinced she would not fit in with a group of strangers. During the session, a horse quietly chose to follow her without a rope or commands. For the first time in years, the woman said she felt truly seen.
Another memory has stayed with Hearn ever since. A teenager in a juvenile probation program, wearing an ankle monitor and struggling with anger, entered a round pen with a horse. As his frustration grew, the horse moved farther away. When he finally calmed himself, the horse walked directly toward him and rested its head against his chest.
“I told him, ‘If you can control your energy, you can control the world around you,’” Hearn said.
Stories like these sustain her through the difficult realities of running a nonprofit. Operating the sanctuary costs roughly $52,000 each month, and Hearn lives on the property, where the work never truly ends. Veterinary bills, staffing, fundraising and the daily care of dozens of horses are constant concerns. Then someone returns years later and tells her that the horses changed their child’s life.
“That’s why I keep going,” she said.
Looking ahead, Hearn hopes more people discover what makes Lucky Orphans unique. The organization is expanding its community programming with educational visits, yoga sessions, horse encounters, volunteer opportunities and family events designed to reconnect people with horses and with one another.
Her vision is simple: to create a place where people slow down, reconnect and remember something modern life often makes us forget. If horses could speak, Hearn believes they would offer just one piece of advice.
“They’d tell us to slow down,” she said.
After spending an afternoon at Lucky Orphans, it’s hard to disagree.
For more information or to plan a visit, go to luckyorphans.org
Want more of our stories on Google? Click here to make us a Preferred Source.
