Dr. Erika Nagorske’s third baby was born with a head of very curly hair — a surprise, given that none of her other children had a single curl. To a stranger, it is a quirk of genetics. To one of her favorite clients, a producer named Keith, it is a badge of shared history.
When Nagorske was eight months pregnant, she and Keith were backing up a side-by-side in his barn. In the hustle of the day’s work, neither realized the garage door behind them was closed until they hit it with a significant, metal-jarring jolt. Keith was mortified, terrified for the pregnant veterinarian. Nagorske, however, just laughed it off.
“To this day, he’s like, ‘It’s my fault he has curly hair because I jostled him so bad when you were pregnant. I’ll never forgive myself’. We just laugh really, really hard about that,” Nagorske shares.
It is these unplanned, profoundly human moments that keep Nagorske coming back to large animal veterinary medicine day after day. While the medicine is the technical engine of her career, the fuel is the people. In a field often defined by its physical demands and technical complexities, Nagorske has found the most vital tool in her kit isn’t a stethoscope or a thermometer — it’s the long-term trust built through repetition. For her, that depth of relationship is now central to how she defines her work.
“The part of that that I’ve surprisingly come to really love and enjoy is the relationships. Large animal is very different — you see these people every other week or sometimes every week, depending on the operation. So you really get to know them,” Nagorske says. “They know my kids’ names. I know their birthdays. I know when they have their 50th wedding anniversary. I’m invited to the granddaughter’s wedding who was 10 when I started.”
That kind of connection doesn’t happen overnight. It is built slowly through repeated visits, routine herd work, and moments of urgency when things go wrong. Over time, familiarity turns into trust, and professional interactions begin to take on a more personal dimension.
From City Roots to Cattle Country
This deep connection was not always the expectation. Nagorske grew up in Madison, Wis., far from the day-to-day realities of production agriculture. Raised by a single mother alongside her older brother, her understanding of the world was suburban and city-centered. Like many veterinarians, she knew as early as six years old that she wanted to work with animals, but her understanding of the profession was shaped by what she could see around her.
“My understanding of a veterinarian was very much small animal focused,” Nagorske explains. “We had dogs, cats — she let me get all the hamsters and pocket pets, but I really just wanted a horse and a goat.”
Her early exposure to animals came through these pets and horseback riding camps, not through farms or livestock operations. There was no built-in familiarity with cattle and no lived experience with the systems that define production agriculture. In a world of large animal medicine where many practitioners are born into the lifestyle, this absence of background could have been a barrier. Instead, it became a starting point.
The turning point came not in a classroom, but in a clinic setting that exposed her to a different side of veterinary medicine. While shadowing at a local small animal clinic, she was encouraged to visit a mixed animal practice outside of Madison. There, Nagorske encountered veterinarians whose work extended far beyond the clinic walls. Their day did not revolve around scheduled appointments in exam rooms, but around responding to the needs of farms and producers in real time. This was her first exposure to cattle medicine.
“There were two veterinarians there that did mostly cattle work. And every time they walked in the door to grab supplies, I was like, ‘Where are you going?’ What are you doing?’ Because it just seemed so cool to get your stuff, go out on farm, help the animal and help the producer in an uncontrolled setting,” Nagorske explains.
That experience reframed what veterinary medicine could look like. The work was less predictable, more hands-on and closely tied to the realities of production systems. It introduced a level of complexity and independence that she found compelling.
Learn by Doing
This initial interest quickly translated into action. During a winter break in college, Nagorske took a job on a dairy farm outside Madison. The work was physical, repetitive and unfamiliar. It required learning basic tasks from the ground up while adapting to the pace and expectations of a working operation.
“I started milking cows and feeding calves at a farm outside of Madison and absolutely fell in love with it. And then from there, it really just spiraled into any cattle thing I could get my hands on,” she says.
What began as a temporary job became a defining experience. It gave her the confidence to pursue more opportunities in cattle medicine and reinforced that this was not just an interest, but a viable career path. She eventually pursued the Veterinary Food Animal Scholars Track (VetFAST) at the University of Minnesota, an early-admit program designed to address the shortage of food animal veterinarians.
Entering the field without an agricultural background came with a learning curve that extended beyond technical skills. It involved a psychological hurdle: The fear of being seen as an outsider.
“When I first started, I was so scared to tell people that because I felt like it would just ruin any street cred I had (which was already nothing as a new grad). But now I love to shout that story from the rooftops. If there’s anyone out there that’s wondering if they could do it too, you totally can. You just need the right mentors,” Nagorske says.
Over time, that initial hesitation shifted into a different perspective. Instead of viewing her background as a limitation, she began to see the advantages it offered. Approaching operations without preconceived assumptions allowed her to evaluate problems based on what was in front of her, rather than how things had always been done.
“I think my background almost makes me more flexible. I don’t have any bad habits or preconceived bias to how things should be done, so I’m really able to look at something and decide what actually makes sense,” Nagorske says.
The Realities of Veterinary Practice
As she transitioned into practice — eventually moving to southwest Minnesota with her crop-farmer husband — Nagorske encountered challenges that extended beyond clinical decision-making. In a field that has historically been male-dominated, she often had to navigate the perceptions of those less accustomed to seeing women in large animal roles.
“I had comments about my fingernails being painted, what my husband thinks of my job. Just things that you would never get asked if you’re a man,” she says.
She recalls a moment at a chute when an older male veterinarian questioned if she could handle a thermometer with painted nails. These moments reflected broader perceptions within the field. While frustrating, they became part of the environment she learned to navigate.
“You’ve got to let it roll off your back, because regardless of sexist comments or not, there’s always going to be someone to say something about what you’re doing. Just keep doing your job,” Nagorske advises.
Consistency, competence and reliability ultimately shaped how she was perceived. Over time, those qualities carried more weight than initial assumptions. When she was physically struggling with pregnancy, the producers she served didn’t see her as a liability; they saw her as a partner. She recalls a moment when she was struggling to fix a prolapse while heavily pregnant, and a producer went into his house to bring out a pillow to slide under her belly to help her stay comfortable in the dirt. These acts of kindness proved she was no longer just ‘the vet’; she was an integrated part of their operation’s support network.
Where the Work Becomes Personal
Large animal veterinary practice is built on repetition. Nagorske now spends much of her time consulting on dairy-beef crosses — calves she calls “little pipsqueaks” when they arrive at 250 lb. — and seeing them through until they are finished a year later.
That repetition creates familiarity, and familiarity builds trust. As relationships develop, interactions extend beyond individual cases. Conversations shift from strictly clinical to more personal, reflecting a shared investment in the long-term success of the operation. Nagorske’s role becomes integrated into that system. She is not only responding to problems as they arise, but contributing to ongoing management decisions.
In that context, the veterinarian becomes more than a service provider. These shared experiences, both routine and unexpected, contribute to the sense of connection that defines the role. They highlight a dynamic that is difficult to replicate in more transactional forms of practice.
Pass it Forward
That same emphasis on connection carries into how Nagorske approaches mentorship. She regularly brings veterinary students along on calls, acting as their personal paparazzi to capture photos of them getting bloody to send home to their families.
“I love having students ride with me,” she says. “They ask so many good questions … They’ll ask ‘Why did you do that?’ Instead of saying ‘Well, that’s how I’ve always done it’, it makes you walk back through your decision making and get down to the nitty gritty of the science and the medicine and explain it.”
Working with students reinforces the importance of staying engaged with both the practical and conceptual aspects of the job. One of her biggest priorities is helping students find what a professor at Minnesota called a “safe place to fail.” In a profession of Type A perfectionists, she believes having a support system that allows for mistakes is vital for mental health and growth.
Nagorske has also fostered a large social media presence, using her platform to teach both vet students and producers about the common and unique cases she comes across in the field.
A Career You Build Yourself
Nagorske’s path into large animal medicine developed through a series of experiences that gradually shaped her interests and priorities. It is a career built one relationship at a time.
“Veterinary medicine is so incredible because it totally is what you make it. There are so many opportunities out there,” she says. “If you just feel like something isn’t right, just change. You’re not a tree — you’re not stuck.”
That perspective reflects a broader understanding of the profession. Veterinary medicine offers a range of paths, and individual experiences can vary widely depending on the choices made along the way. In large animal practice, those choices often extend beyond clinical focus to include the type of relationships a veterinarian builds with the people they serve.
For Nagorske, those relationships are not secondary to the work. They are the work.
