Michelle Carstensen didn't expect her friends to dub her "Dr. Death." But they did. And these days she is proud of it.
The first and only supervisor of Minnesota's wildlife health program, Carstensen serves on the front lines of battles to protect the state's moose, deer, waterfowl and other wildlife species from diseases that kill them. It is a job that takes her to deep forests, sprawling wetlands, farm fields and more, often as the lead detective on what's killing Minnesota's wildlife.
"It's a dream job," said Carstensen, 45, of North Branch, who oversees a staff of seven. "When I joined the Department of Natural Resources 15 years ago the agency didn't have a wildlife health program. Back then major disease issues were relatively uncommon. Today, addressing disease threats is a significant part of our work. A host of diseases — chronic wasting disease (CWD), West Nile virus, Asian highly pathogenic avian influenza, Newcastle disease, avian cholera, and most recently epizootic hemorrhagic disease — all have negative implications for the state's wildlife. We are in a very different time from not so long ago."
What follows are edited remarks from a recent conversation with the animal science specialist.
On the path to a profession
I am a product of the American dream. I am a first-generation American who grew up on a small dairy farm in northern Wisconsin to immigrant parents who insisted I learn to fish and go to college. I honored their wishes. I became an avid angler, high school valedictorian, and the first person from my small community to attend an Ivy League school. As a farm kid I always enjoyed being around domestic animals, but discovered my true passion for wild animals while earning my master's and doctorate degrees from the University of Minnesota. The moment I handled a fawn during a research study I knew I had found my calling.
On learning on the fly
I was hired in 2004 to head up the state's CWD surveillance efforts. Back then, CWD didn't exist in wild deer in Minnesota. In fact, it wouldn't be detected until six years later. Yet in 2005 a cattle disease called bovine tuberculosis showed up in wild deer in northwestern Minnesota. I was academically prepared for the challenge of eliminating TB in wild deer but unprepared for navigating the waters of local and state politics, hunter relations, and even interagency interactions. I had to learn a lot on the fly. It was bumpy at times.
Thankfully, the disease appeared confined to a relatively small geographic area. That meant we could potentially eliminate it if we greatly reduced deer numbers in the immediate area. This, of course, was highly unpopular with many at the local level. However, on the statewide level, the state's cattle industry strongly supported our position. They did so because the presence of a cattle disease in wild deer had serious long-term negative financial implications for cattle ranchers throughout the state. Because that was the case, the political will to make Minnesota a bovine TB-free state was so strong that the governor authorized the shooting of deer from helicopters. Federal sharpshooters were brought in, too, to bait and take deer from the ground. During the seven years I coordinated this work, I often lived out of a bunkhouse. In the end, we eliminated the disease, and in doing so became a national model for achieving what few thought possible. Yes, it took years for local deer numbers to bounce back, but they have.
On CWD vs. bovine tuberculosis
Today's fight against CWD is different than yesterday's bovine TB efforts because no powerhouse group is leading a charge to eliminate it. Yes, there are pockets of support but, in general, you see less concern and more complacency … there's a nagging sense of inevitability that Minnesota will become just another state with CWD. You can hear it in the voices of hunters and others who are more concerned about what deer reduction efforts will mean to next year's deer season than the long-term future of Minnesota deer.