The news arrived with the grim efficiency of a public health warning. Canada, in a move that sent ripples through the agricultural world, has banned cattle from Texas after the discovery of the flesh-eating screwworm. The parasitic larvae, known to burrow into living tissue, had been found in a shipment of cattle.
For those of us who recall the foot-and-mouth crisis of 2001, the echoes are chilling. But amid the panic, a quiet pride has surfaced in Britain. Our biosecurity measures, often mocked as bureaucratic overreach, have been hailed as a model for preventing such outbreaks.
The irony is not lost: the same systems that frustrate farmers and delay imports are now being praised for protecting our national herd. On the streets, the reaction is one of grim satisfaction. People remember the pyres of livestock, the closed countryside, the sense of a rural way of life under siege.
The screwworm, with its gruesome method of reproduction, feels like a horror film made real. But the real story is about trust. Trust in the systems that keep our food safe, trust in the science that guides our policies, and trust that the invisible barriers between us and a biological catastrophe actually hold.
The Canadians acted swiftly. The Americans are reeling. And Britain, for once, looks like the sensible one.
The human cost here is not just economic. It is psychological. Every scare reminds us of our vulnerability.
But it also reminds us that preparedness is not paranoia. It’s common sense. And that is a cultural shift worth noting.
