Edwardian Farm (2010) s01e07 Episode Script

Here in Devon, in the tranquil Tamar Valley, is a port that once bustled with industry.
Overground, farmers supplied Britain's growing towns and cities with fresh produce.
There's a lot of money there, Peter.
While underground, miners extracted copper and precious minerals.
Firing! Now archaeologists Alex Langlands and Peter Ginn, and historian Ruth Goodman, are going back in time to the early 20th century, to live the lives of Edwardian farmers for a full calendar year.
I get a bit obsessed with hot water.
You can never have enough of it.
They've not just been farming, but getting to grips with the rural industries that once brought wealth to Devon.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, we got something.
Hello.
So far, the team has brought in new livestock, set up a poultry enterprise Good to get some new blood into the flock.
and planted new high value crops on the farm's market garden.
In it goes.
Oh, it's quite exciting really, isn't it? Now it's March.
And after one of the harshest winters in a generation, the team will have to cope with the arrival of spring, and the new challenges it'll bring.
Oh, look at them! Look at all of them! They'll need to cash in on the year's first harvest Daffodils set for London.
oversee new arrivals.
So far tonight we've had seven lambs and they're still coming thick and fast.
And an American horse breaker arrives in Devon to train the farm's latest recruit.
You do whatever you want to do.
I'm not gonna get upset with you.
On the Edwardian Farm, the first signs of spring come as a welcome relief for Peter and Alex.
Finally, we've got the first shoots of growth.
The occasional bird is singing.
Yeah.
The sun is on our backs and it's feeling warm.
All winter we've been staring out on that sort of dull, faded, frost-burned grass, and now we're starting to see that rich, luscious, verdant green come through, aren't we? This is the re-emergence of the green and pleasant land after a bleak and bitter winter.
Warmed by the gulf stream off the Atlantic, in Devon's Tamar Valley, spring arrives early.
Farms in the Tamar were able to supply Britain's towns and cities with luxury produce, such as fresh flowers, earlier than anywhere else in the country.
This was because of the region's mild climate, and the arrival of a railway line in the late 1800s.
Daffodils, daffodils, everywhere daffodils! Harvesting an acre of daffodils in March could earn farmers in the Tamar ten times the profit of an acre of wheat.
So many turned to market gardening as their primary source of income.
This is so labour intensive, isn't it? It's stunningly labour intensive.
Every single stem picked by hand.
I mean, there have been market gardens, obviously, of one form or another for generations on a small scale, but this is just on a completely different scale.
I mean, you never see this number of people on the land now.
During its heyday in the early 20th century, the Tamar Valley was one of the largest producers of early daffodils in Britain.
This is really quite pleasant work.
Not so nice when the wind's blowing and it's raining streams, I'll tell you that for nothing.
We have got quite a nice day.
Iris Snell remembers working on the market gardens as a schoolgirl, when every spare inch of the valley was turned over to growing fruit and flowers.
- So this was all market gardens, this valley? - Yeah.
It seems strange seeing them full of sheep now.
And all the market gardens was put south facing, wherever they were, to get the early warmth.
It must have been quite a sight, mustn't it? All those fields, all on the slope covered in spring flowers.
Can't believe it, can you? No.
Actually, it's really quite hard to imagine, actually.
During the daffodil harvest, the race was on to pick, pack and transport the flowers to the nearest railway station, so that they could be sold fresh the following day in markets across the country.
OK, Twinkle.
Perfect little job for you.
To get the daffodils to the station in time, Alex plans to use the farm's ageing pony.
Twinkle's a Dartmoor pony.
And round here, they're invaluable to the economy.
They do all those little runaround jobs that the shire horses and the carthorses are too big for.
At over 20 years old and ready for retirement, this is to be one of Twinkle's final tasks on the farm.
Running a few flowers round today is a nice little job for her to do.
But there will be other jobs that we'll need a pony for.
So one of the things I'm really keen to do this month is to see if I can acquire the farm a new Dartmoor pony.
Come on.
Let's go.
Steady.
Before the daffodils can be sent to market, they'll need to be carefully packed.
So that they reached their destination as quickly as possible, most Edwardian farmers erected their own purpose-built packing sheds.
Ruth is learning the tricks of the trade from daffodil grower, Marion Griffiths.
So what do I do, Marion? Take a bunch of just a bunch of daffodils from the basket.
Then knock them stems, like that.
Then we'll take the three tallest ones.
And lay them down on the bench.
And the next three tallest.
- Yeah.
- Then the next three.
Then the next three.
Keep hold of your three little ones, put your other daffodils down for a minute.
Hands full.
Put them in a line, one, two, three.
Let their heads face downwards.
Then take the next three that I've put over there.
And lie them over the top, we call it "racing them up".
Then take the next three and do the same again.
- "Racing them up", I like that.
- Racing them up at the back.
And then the tallest ones on the top.
Tallest on the top.
If you keep holding them like that so their heads are all facing downwards, they should more or less stay in the same place.
- Oh, it looks really pretty, doesn't it? - Yeah.
And they look lovely in the box and it makes the man in the market buy them.
Present it perfect.
And they'll buy it.
- And they'll buy it? - Yeah.
I'm really amazed at just how important this whole presentation thing I find it quite stunning - here we are in Edwardian Britain, and they're demanding a sort of finish, the sort of regimented perfection, the beautifully presented produce that supermarkets in modern Britain demand.
This need to get the marketing absolutely spot on.
It's a new way of doing business, really.
Take this.
Have you seen these yet? They just look so amazing in their boxes.
Better get a move on, then, cos otherwise you're gonna miss that train.
- We'll see you later, Marion.
- All the best, then.
Take care.
I tell you, I could get used to daffodil picking.
Selling daffodils and other fresh produce to market across Britain was only possible after the arrival in the late-19th century of a train line linking the Tamar Valley with the rest of the country.
John Snell worked as a stationmaster on the line after the Second World War, when the region's market gardens were still thriving.
So we have a consignment here of daffodils.
The railway will look after them, I can assure you of that.
Have you got the consignment note for the daffodils? - We left the consignment note.
- We do need it.
What happened in the Edwardian period if you left your consignment note back at the farm? You must have a consignment note there.
You must abide by the rules and regulations of the railway.
So how exactly does this sort of system work, then? The railway would know when the season actually got into full swing.
And then there would be special arrangements made, because, 400,000 packages in a season would go away from the Valley.
400,000? 400,000, we used to deal would have been dealt with at that time.
And what markets, then, would the railways be opening up to us as Edwardian growers? All over the country, you see, all the main cities were served.
So it's not just London? The fruit and flowers are going Glasgow, Edinburgh, Newcastle, Manchester, Liverpool.
So flowers picked down here in the Southwest could find themselves on someone's dinner table the next day up in Glasgow? - That's right, yeah.
- That's amazing.
The railway developed the fruit and flower industry in the Tamar Valley.
So it went on to the late '60s before Doctor Beeching came along and Came and stuck a spanner in the works.
Yes, he's put a spanner in the works.
And once the railway stopped handling the traffic, the fruit and flower industry in the Tamar Valley quickly ceased.
That's really interesting, that the road was unable to offer the same service.
They tried to do it by road, but couldn't get it away to the main cities once the railway stopped handling the traffic.
And the industry died.
Yeah.
That's how it was.
With entire industries depending on it, the Edwardian railway network had to work to strict timetables.
While she waits for the train, Ruth, who once worked for British Rail, drops in on Stewart Kerslake, who operates the period signal box on the South Devon Railway.
This is lovely! I recognise some of these dials and things.
- Like the look of it, do you? - I do, I do.
And railways just changed Britain in so many ways.
I mean, even time itself is a railway, sort of invention, in some ways, isn't it? Well, that's true, before the railways crossed the country, of course, everybody's time was different in one part of the country to the next.
So what happened was, at ten o'clock in the morning, the signalman in London would send a bell signal to the next signalman along the track.
- And he'd pass that signal all the way down.
- And everybody would set their clocks.
And everybody would set their clock at that particular time.
Ding, ding! All the way down.
There's your bell.
That means the train is now at Buckfastleigh.
Everything stops for the bells in a signal box.
So for the train to proceed, the driver has to have one of these tokens.
I can't get that token out without cooperation from the signalman at Buckfastleigh.
In order to do that, I ask his attention.
Which he will reply to.
And then I'll ask for line clear for a passenger train, which is three, pause, one.
Now he'll reply to that.
And he'll hold his plunger in so I can get the token out.
And if he didn't do that, I couldn't get the token out, you see? Absolute, cast iron guarantee that that bit of line is empty, there is nothing to crash into.
That's right.
That's the safety scheme.
So that's what I give the driver.
And he's not allowed to go anywhere until he's physically holding that.
There we go.
Pull off number one first of all, look.
That's right.
And now we can pull off the rest of the levers to let the train right through.
That's your train on the way now.
I'd better get going, then.
Thank you! - Hello, Alex, all right? - Yes, very well.
Let's get it on.
This will be your daffodils, set for London.
Excellent.
With a massive building programme of new rail lines in Edwardian Britain, the mobility of the nation was greater than ever before.
I couldn't see you in all that! Hello! Ruth's daughter Eve has arrived in Devon for Easter.
- What was the journey like? - It wasn't too bad, actually.
- Let me take that.
- That the lot, mate? - That is, indeed.
- Good.
Right, then.
It is a steam engine! How exciting.
The daffodil harvest isn't the only sign that spring has finally arrived in the valley.
March also heralds the start of the lambing season.
With many Edwardian farmers in Devon still relying heavily on the sale of wool, this was one of the busiest and most critical months of the year.
To see how farmers deal with their flocks at lambing time, Peter's travelled to Dartmoor, once the heart of Devon's woollen industry.
When you think of farming on Dartmoor, you think of sheep.
I'm off to see Matthew Cole, who's got a farm in this brutal landscape.
And he's currently got all his sheep in, and he's lambing them.
It is supposed to be one of the most tiring events in the farming calendar, accompanied with many sleepless nights.
So, I mean, you've got an awful lot of sheep.
Yes.
Matthew is currently in the process of lambing his native flock of over 1,500 Whitefaced Dartmoor ewes.
They lamb for about six weeks to two months.
And come the end, you are absolutely shattered.
It's not really until everything quietens down, probably middle of May, that you'll get the chance to see all these ewes and lambs that you've brought into the world.
And that's lovely, you almost don't see the wood for the trees.
Although as a breed the Whitefaced Dartmoor rarely needs human intervention to give birth, with such a large flock, Matthew has to be on hand at all times, to make sure the newborn lambs are paired with the correct mothers.
As soon as you see one lambing, get it out.
I don't want to roll them over, that could make the lambs come out malpresented.
You could get them backwards, or with legs back, things like that.
So you've gotta be calm around them all the time.
There's already one on the way, I can hear the ewe in the next door pen.
- So it could be a busy night, then.
- I think so.
Gradually, she'll open up.
You can see its feet just there.
He's quite a big chap.
A little bit of a tug and she's just popped right out.
- Yeah, there we go.
- Good show.
They just took their first breath.
He'll be on his feet in a few minutes.
Big strong lamb.
There you go, she's loving that.
She's done this before.
He'll just get up and go.
He's already slipping He's looking for food.
A nice little world for this lamb.
He'll do well.
He'll grow into it.
Right, have him by his back legs.
Come on, girl, let's get you up.
As soon as they're born, the lambs and their mothers are separated from the rest of the flock, so they can bond.
Come on, girl.
There we go.
I suppose ultimately you're breeding them for their meat, and also to breed from them.
Yeah, we make our money by selling lambs, either for the table, or for other breeders to buy our stock and take our blood through.
Are you also keeping your eye open for any potential rams? Yeah, I am, with erm I'll probably keep about 15, and I'll end up with three, that's what I normally do.
So we sort of whittle them down, and you know, the fastest growing, the best characteristics, you end up with, you know, hopefully the very best, and a saleable product.
People will buy my blood then to go into their flocks.
Right, you said you'd heard another one.
No rest for the wicked! Just keep going.
Oh, that's good.
There it goes.
Yeah, you feel them take their first breath, and their heartbeat will just go mad.
I think so far tonight, we must have had seven lambs.
And they're still coming thick and fast.
We're just having mothers pushing out lambs willy-nilly.
It's a crazy amount of work.
Yeah, he's right there.
It's time he was outside.
Gently pull.
Gently, gently, gently.
There he is.
Clean his nose off.
That's our fourth set of twins tonight.
So a good night's work, I think.
Little boy.
And a little girl.
That has to be one of the most rewarding jobs there is in the countryside.
We've had nine ewes that have lambed, and 13 lambs from them.
Matthew still has 1,400 ewes to lamb, and he'll get over 2,000 lambs from that.
Been an eye-opening experience.
And one I shall never forget.
Down in the valley, Alex is also hoping to boost livestock numbers on the farm.
And he's turning to Edwardian technology to help him.
There she is, a beauty! Right.
Cor, it's heavy! The latest in Edwardian incubating technology.
The Practical Poultry Breeder And Feeder, or this title, I prefer - How To Make Poultry Pay, is fastly becoming my bible for the year.
It was written by a chap called Mr William Cook.
There he is, the good man himself, and he really was the sort of doyenne of the poultry world in the Edwardian period.
And, actually, the crafty old boy has even been advertising his own products here.
Very, very similar to the one I've got here.
So, the idea is that you've got a little paraffin lamp, that then heats a water chamber above the brood box.
And then the brood box itself, this bit at the bottom with these little chicks' heads poking out, that's this bit down here.
So I've just got to work out how to put this thing together.
Let's see what I've got.
The lamp bit.
That should just wind through.
In an age before battery farming, Edwardian poultry breeders increasingly used artificial means of incubating eggs, rather than relying on their hens to do the job for them.
Right.
OK.
Wonderful.
So now, all I need to think about is getting some water.
This is not going to be easy.
I think I'm going to need to find myself an Edwardian funnel.
There we go.
OK, that's reached the level.
Now it's a case of getting the eggs in there.
So let's just get all of these in here.
Actually, I was reading there was a census of agricultural production in 1908.
And poultry was fairing very, very well.
In fact, it was doing better than the wool industry.
You know, Devon was built, basically, on its woollen industry.
So it's certainly an enterprise that's very much of the Edwardian age.
OK.
Now, I think what I'm supposed to do here, according to Mr Cook in his How To Make Poultry Pay, is to just leave the drawer open an inch for the first 24 hours.
The only problem with this 100-year-old incubator is that it relies on a heat source that is a naked flame, and in a building this old and this important, that represents something of a danger.
So what I'm going to do is have recourse to a modern incubator, but the principles are the same, and that's what I'm interested in, the principles of artificial incubation.
So 21, 22 days, we should have some chicks, but, of course, I shouldn't count my chickens before my eggs are hatched.
On Dartmoor, it's time to release the latest batch of newborn lambs.
They've now established that strong bond with their mother, and now they're ready to go out in the pastures and rejoin the flock.
You know, that's the next generation coming through.
So how did lambing go? It went really well.
There were no dramas.
- Right.
- Quite a few lambs.
Knackering, though.
Alex has joined Peter on Dartmoor to find a replacement for their farm's ageing pony, Twinkle.
If, by the end of this afternoon we can come away with a replacement, a two, three-year-old Dartmoor pony that can take on little jobs around the farm, I'll be well pleased.
For over 1,000 years, the Dartmoor pony has played a vital role in Devon's farming history.
In this rugged and inhospitable landscape, an estimated 3,000 ponies still roam wild.
Today, a small number are being rounded up by Charlotte Falconer, from the Dartmoor Pony Society, and farmer Terry French.
If we can try to make a line from here, keep them down onto the road, and then hopefully back to the farm.
I've seen some riders just over there.
- The riders are coming in from the bottom.
- Yeah, I can see them.
Here they go over the brow of the hill.
- Go on! - Come on! Go on! Go on! Look at that.
Fantastic, Peter! Hey! Traditionally, Dartmoor farmers owned the ponies that grazed their land.
Each year they were rounded up on horseback to be used on farms, in mines, and even as cart ponies for the postal service.
- That one there.
- Not the one in front, the one behind, Terry and Charlotte believe they've spotted the ideal pony for Alex and Peter.
That little bay pony there.
- What do you think, that one? - I think that's lovely.
You need a brave pony.
And he's definitely a brave pony.
- Right.
Yeah.
- He's got it all there, really.
So what are we looking for? Confirmation, nice small head, and a nice clear eye, nice bright, clear eye, and so it's taking everything in.
You know, he's looking at us now all the time.
That's telling us he's sort of clever, he's got his wits about him.
He's thinking, "I wonder what they're going to do to me next.
" They say that small ears means they're hardy, as well.
Yeah, you always look for a small-eared pony.
A pony with big ears, they say they're not very hardy for the moor.
It's amazing to think that something can live out here for 12 months of the year.
We're in March and I'm freezing.
Yeah! They're incredible, really.
We'd love to have him down on the farm, so if you recommend that one, we'd love to take him, and see if we can start breaking him in.
Thank you very much.
That'll be great.
- Will you be able to deliver him? - Yeah, we'll deliver him to you.
I was hoping you were gonna ride him back, Peter.
- Via the pub.
- Oh, go on! - Beautiful-looking pony.
- I know.
Stunning landscape.
Yeah, we've just got to think about the name now.
You were calling him Lad.
I quite like that.
Lad - it's nice and simple.
On the Edwardian Farm, the joy of spring has been dampened by the onset of unseasonably wet weather.
Torrential downpours are delaying the planting of potatoes, a lucrative crop for the Edwardian farmer, and key to the success of the team's arable project.
But while the spring rains continue, little progress can be made on the farm.
Just look at the river.
It's completely swollen.
Another foot or so, and it's in here.
If it doesn't change soon, things could go rapidly downhill for us.
We could lose crops.
We could even lose animals.
I'm more concerned about losing my mind.
Delayed by the weather, the team must get their potatoes into the ground as soon as possible if they're to maximise their profits by securing an early harvest later in the year.
A day of dry weather on mothering Sunday means that there's little time for celebrating.
I can't say that this is how I like to spend my Sunday.
I like to spend my Sunday with my feet up, in between church.
But needs must.
Good boy.
Under pressure to plant the potatoes before the spring rains return, Alex and stable hand Megan Elliot are using shire horse Tom to plough deep furrows into the soil.
But working at such a pace soon takes its toll on the young shire.
- Steady.
- Steady boy, steady.
Steady, it's all right.
It's all right, he'll calm down.
Steady.
- Steady.
- Tom, Tom, whoa! Steady.
Steady.
Steady.
Steady.
Steady.
Stay out of his way.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Good boy, it's all right.
Is he all right? - Yeah, are you all right? - Yeah, I'm OK.
Just about.
The runner was in the way and I tried to turn him.
And Tom doesn't like chains, anyway, round his back end and his legs.
And he got upset.
It's just one of those things that happen.
That's what makes these things sometimes quite dangerous.
Well, the best thing we can do with him is to get him straight back to work.
Come on, lad, come over.
- Come over.
- Are you going to get this muck, then? - It's going to be several cartloads.
- Don't worry, Peter.
Hopefully, by the time you've got a cartload of muck, it'll be - We'll get better.
- Seriously.
See you in a bit.
To feed the potatoes, the team will need at least ten tons of well-rotted horse dung.
I always feel like a little muck miner doing this.
So is this a job you envisioned yourself doing on Mothers Day? I don't really care, because I'm outdoors and it's not raining.
Where's your daughter? That is a good question.
I don't know.
In the cottage, Ruth's daughter Eve is busy cooking a simnel cake, a traditional gift for Mothering Sunday.
Got all your currents, and raisins, and candied peel.
Mum's always been very partial to candied peel.
Celebrated on the fourth Sunday of Lent, Mothering Sunday was an important occasion in the Edwardian calendar.
For daughters especially, many of whom worked away in service, it was the only time in the year when they returned home.
So I'm gonna do it the way Mum's always done it.
She does a layer of cake mixture, and then a layer of marzipan, and then another layer of cake mixture.
And then bake it.
And then right at the end, when it's come out the oven, spread some apricot jam on.
Cos it's my mum's favourite.
And then do another layer of marzipan over the top.
So that is now going to end up in the oven as quickly as possible, so that Mum doesn't notice that I've done something nice.
And I hope she sees it that way.
Steady.
Yeah, you're looking perfect.
In the arable field, Alex's ploughing has not been going to plan.
That's terrible.
I've seen better ridging in my time.
- Can't have that.
- The major problem is, when the weeds start to grow through, the idea here is that you take the horse down the furrow and you pull a huge hoe.
So the straighter your lines are now, the less work you've got to do later on in the year, when the weeds start growing.
Go on, lad.
Steady.
I'm creating problems.
I haven't got time to practise.
We've only really got one shot at this.
That's Edwardian farming for you.
They're reasonably straight, they look good.
There's a slight kink in the field, though.
That's what it is.
What do you mean, a kink in the field? There's a hedge bank, or something grubbed out, or a ditch, and when it goes through, it goes like that, that's why there's a kink.
I'll remember that one.
That's the best excuse I've heard.
Right.
I was wondering if you want to go ahead and start getting the potatoes? Yeah, sure.
Do you want the tatties in the dung, yeah? Tatties in the dung, yeah.
- I can do tatties in the dung.
- Tatties in the dung - sounds like an Irish pub.
To feed and nourish the potatoes, the team are using horse dung.
But here in the Tamar Valley, Edwardians often used an altogether different type of fertiliser.
Traditionally, the market gardens and the farms round here would have used dock dung, and this is dung that's brought up from the dockside down in Plymouth.
And that kind of stuff can be made up of just about anything, any waste from the cities.
You can imagine you've got a lot of human waste going into this dung, but you've also got a lot of horses working in the cities, so all of their dung as well.
All of the food waste, midden, basically, all the waste from the cities would be piled onto barges, brought up the River Tamar, offloaded at the quayside and brought right up onto the fields.
But, unfortunately, we don't have barge loads of human excrement to lay our hands on, so we've had to make do with a good old-fashioned farmyard manure.
The tatties have been chitted, which just means left out with a tiny bit of light so that they sprout slightly.
They've already started their life, so that just gives us a bit of a head start, really.
A couple of weeks advance.
Each shoot will give rise to new plants, and, all being well, an abundance of new potatoes.
If the team can harvest them in July, earlier than most growers in Edwardian Britain, they can expect to earn an extra £10 an acre.
So how long till we get results? Three, four weeks, we should start seeing the shoots, something like that.
And then we've just got to pile a bit more earth on top of them, haven't we? But, you know, potatoes - famous for blight.
And blight is famous for happening in damp and wet conditions.
Exactly.
So we've just got to hope that we get some dry weather.
I could do with a cuppa, though.
I've been thinking about a cuppa for hours, I tell you.
- Hi.
- Hello.
- I could murder a cup of tea.
- That looks amazing.
How are you doing? - Oh, you've made a cake! - I did! Oh, you sweetie.
- Happy Mothering Sunday.
- Thank you.
That's what you've been doing instead of planting.
I thought you were off skiving.
Well, I was, but, you know - Simnel.
- Look, count the little balls.
11 balls for the 11 Disciples, without Judas.
One in the middle for Jesus.
Hey, it's a cake Although once saved for Easter, by the Edwardian age it had become customary to eat simnel cake on Mothering Sunday.
Excellent.
Sticky and stodgy, that's how I like it.
Mm.
But we made some fantastic finds, didn't we, out there? Archaeologist Alex has unearthed some artefacts he believes to be remnants from the city dock dung laid by his farming predecessors.
I quite like this, the thin clay pipe.
- Yeah, that's lovely, isn't it? - How it's still survived.
It's so delicate, isn't it? The most interesting thing about it is, fascinatingly, we managed to find two coins, which give us two rough dates, really, when this was happening.
See if you can find the date on that one.
And this one here says 1862, so we're smack bang in the middle of Victoria's reign.
This one's 1929.
- So that's George, George V.
- Yeah, this is George.
So that's the sort of two ends of the sort of period that this was being worked.
Exactly.
That coin might have even been mined here.
- No! - The copper for that.
- Bit weather-beaten.
- Might call it coming home.
Found its way back into the fields.
That's quite romantic, that.
It's mid-March.
- Hiya! - Hi, Ruth.
The team are already reaping the benefits of spring.
You've got loads there.
Eggs, we can do, especially at this time of year.
Their flock of sheep has its first new member.
There she is.
The poet in me would probably name her Daffodil, Strawberry - market gardening.
But the practical in me would probably name her A.
A? - Lamb A.
- Maybe Agnes.
The team have also taken delivery of their new Dartmoor pony, who they've decided to call Lad.
Oh, isn't he cute? - He's really pretty.
- Mm.
Welcome to your new home.
Having spent his first four years living wild on Dartmoor, to work on the farm, Lad will need to be trained.
Hey! Laddie boy! Come here, Lad.
Come on.
Horse whispering.
See? I think it takes years of practice, Peter, and experience, to take a wild animal off the moor and turn it into a working beast.
- You reckon we need some help, then? - Almost certainly.
Or you'll be standing here for the rest of your life whispering at it.
Alex has called in Mike Branch, a horse trainer from Tennessee.
Mike is following in the footsteps of American farmer John Solomon Rarey.
In the 19th century, he found fame and fortune in Britain with his revolutionary method of taming wild horses.
And what do you think of our pony, then? It's a bit small but looks really sharp.
Just in off the moor? That's right, yeah.
- Could I take a look? - Yeah, please do.
With horsepower still the major driving force in Edwardian Britain, horse trainers were in hot demand.
Although most still used harsh physical methods of breaking the horse's will, John Solomon Rarey and his followers turned to a more humane technique of using psychology and body language to tame horses.
I'm kind of feeling his emotion and his body language.
And if I would feel that he was gonna leave me, say, in two or three seconds from now, I would try to leave him one second from now.
So that I'm the first one to leave.
I don't want him to get the notion that he can just walk off from me any time and it's all right, and kind of give him a superior feeling.
He's really a nice pony.
Seems to have a pretty good attitude.
He seems to be thinking, and he's looking right at us.
He's an intelligent little guy.
Somebody's gotta have the brains there.
In the States, back at the turn of the century, I mean, someone in your position as a horse breaker, would you be doing it on a regular basis for farmers and Yeah, yeah.
But, of course, most people over there, still at the turn of the century, are breaking them out by blindfolding the horse and getting on their back, and pulling the blindfold off, and bucking it out.
When you finally get the horse rode out, and everybody's still alive, then you got a broke horse.
I'm getting a little old for that.
And I don't think it really treats the horse fairly.
I think if I can develop a relationship first off with the horse, then he and I can understand each other a little bit better.
Right, OK.
OK, let's ease back up there.
I'm hoping that by staying in here in the corral with him, that he's kind of adjusted to us a little bit.
Certainly walked up to him a lot easier that time.
He's a little bit fearful, so I'm going to turn my energy away from him.
I want to keep really, really low energy here, because they pick up so much off of our body language.
Yeah, this is much better, cos he's actually bringing his head over every now and then and smelling my back, smelling my arm.
Yeah, and started reciprocating.
- That's very good.
- I didn't think he'd get close.
Not this quickly.
I thought this whispering stuff was just, you know, a sort of myth, but I can see just the quietness and this gentle approach is really working, isn't it? While Mike begins the process of training Lad, in the cottage, Ruth is preparing for upcoming festivities.
It's coming up to Easter.
And our church has a tradition, as so many did, of giving out painted eggs at the Easter service.
Seeing as Alex has got something of a glut on the go, I'll have a go at making some coloured eggs.
To dye the eggs, Ruth has raided her larder.
Everybody knows beetroot turn the water red and stain everything like crazy.
Easiest thing in the world, yellow dye for eggs.
Onion skins.
I'll just pour a bit of water over it and let the whole thing boil and the colour will come out into the water.
And then whilst this is on the range, I can blow some eggs.
So that can go on here.
The theory is, you make a hole in the top and the bottom of the egg, and then you blow the contents out.
I am so rubbish at this.
The hard bit is making the holes without cracking the whole flipping egg.
Because you actually have to put quite a bit of pressure on to get a decent hole.
That wasn't too bad.
That went in reasonably easily.
And then the other side, as well.
OK.
And then you want to break everything inside.
And then I've got to blow it all out.
Good job the boys can't see me doing this.
Ohh! Oh! That's a good boy.
Life's just a little bit different right now, that's all.
Just an hour into Lad's first training session and Mike is already attaching a halter.
It'll go over his muzzle.
Right there, but now he's Ooh, he's bucking a bit.
It's quite easy to forget he's actually wild.
I've got to be solid, something dependable for him.
I'm staying who I am.
You do whatever you want to do.
I'm not gonna get upset with you.
This time, I'm gonna stop and try to rub his head here for a minute if he'll allow.
If he'll allow.
Good.
As soon as he said it's OK, I took my hand off.
Notice while he was resisting, I left it there.
Cos if I took my hand away while he's resisting, he's, like, "Oh, all I have to do is resist and it'll leave.
" But if I leave it there till he gets calm, he's, like, "OK, it's my job to calm down.
" I see now, I see.
Touching them everywhere.
And letting them know that that touch isn't gonna hurt them.
Basically, I've got a little head collar on him.
When I tighten the lead on it, it produces pressure on the horse.
It's a horse's innate characteristic to want to fight pressure.
This is the time right here that I need to ask the horse to understand that when you feel pressure, move with it.
So what I'm gonna try to do is, that left front foot over there, I'm gonna ask him through slow increments of pressure to pick that left front foot up.
And release immediately.
I got forward motion.
So now I'm gonna see if I can move his hindquarters around, and when we get to where we're facing you, I'm gonna ask for the forehand to move more round.
Let's see what happens here.
There goes the hindquarters, there goes the hindquarters.
Now let's lead that forehand on out.
Good.
There we have him walking on.
And I'm happy with that.
Really happy.
There's many DIY projects on this farm.
This isn't one of them.
No, I think we did the right thing here, getting the real deal in.
In all the time I've been fooling with horses, I've never had a horse lie to me.
They've offered to kick me, and if I didn't move away, they kicked me.
They've spoken the truth every time.
So I've found that I can't ever lie to my horse.
If I do, then I'm gonna set myself up to fail in my relationship with him.
So that's my beetroot water.
What I thought I might do, is as well as doing the plain ones, I might try and have patterns on.
To create a pattern, Ruth uses candle wax to stop the dye from penetrating specific areas of the egg.
Of course, nowadays, we think of Easter eggs as being chocolate.
But although the first Easter eggs were being marketed in the 1880s, it wasn't until 1905, when they first made the Cadbury's milk Easter egg, that they really began to take off.
And even then, they were quite small.
Because they were expensive.
They were really only for the wealthier members of the community.
Everybody else had painted, decorated eggs.
Two minutes, how are you coming? Oh, yes! Going to get stripy ones.
Where's my bunny? I got a little bunny.
Oh, yes! I did a little bunny.
And a daffodil.
Good.
Good.
Now quit.
So I've got to keep asking for more and more.
I can see with his personality, even though he's a pretty gentle guy, he's gonna try to get away with as little as he can.
What I may do is start letting him feel this rope now come around him.
Cos he's gonna feel this on his hocks when we decide to start long-lining him.
So I'm gonna ask him now to just feel his way out of there.
Feel your way out, feel your way out.
Good.
Good.
That was pretty good.
And the more we do this, the easier it'll get for him.
I'm gonna be pulling.
Follow your feel.
Good.
Good.
Now, see, I'm not having to yank and tug on him.
He's just feeling that.
And he's coming on around.
Three hours ago, Lad was a wild pony.
We're gonna fold a line up again.
Now Mike's preparing to lead him with reins.
Same thing that you've got on, honey.
Except we're gonna have two of them.
And you'll look good wearing two.
What I need to do here now is cause him to feel this one.
And make a turn with that.
But now you're gonna feel the other one I just taught you about.
So then he finds a place right in the middle of the two reins to rest.
We've taught him to go to the left, we've taught him to go to the right, so there when he tried to go each way, and he found himself in trouble, he decided, "Well, I'll just rest in between the two.
" It's amazing.
That's amazing.
This can be difficult when we first start out.
Good.
Good.
Good.
He's going good.
He's a little bit upset.
I've got this line over him.
It's OK.
There's no harm coming to him.
So now what I've got to do is ask him to make a turn, like what we've already taught him.
So there, now we've got him going that way.
If he wants to trot, that's fine.
Express yourself.
I imagine you fellas are probably gonna use him to drive for you around some of these beautiful Devon roads We are now.
That's brilliant.
We'll see what he does with a little initial weight here.
Wow.
We're gonna leave him right there.
When the horse has calmly and wilfully done what we've asked it to do, we can't ask any more out of it.
So you're happy with how everything's gone this afternoon? I'm happy with this.
It's a good place to leave this horse for the very first time that it's ever had human hands working with it.
Well, I think that's been beyond our wildest expectations, hasn't it? That's been fantastic, an absolute pleasure.
Well, I appreciate it.
It's always great when the customer's happy.
March is coming to an end.
And it's been a successful month on the Edwardian Farm.
The team's flock of ewes have now all successfully given birth.
Well, the lambs look really good.
They're loving it, aren't they? Another long winter over with.
- Good times.
- Good times.
And after a bumper daffodil harvest, Ruth, Peter and Alex are in high spirits for Easter.
I wonder what the minister's got in store for us today? Christ is risen.
He is risen indeed.
- Hallelujah! - Hallelujah! All around us, we see signs of spring here in the Valley.
We see new buds forming on the branches of the trees, we see wild flowers - snowdrops, daffodils, all around us.
And the spring lambs.
New life everywhere.
- Hallelujah! - Hallelujah! - Amen.
- Amen.
Happy Easter.
You've got the bunny.
- Happy Easter.
- Happy Easter.
- Would you like one as well? - Yes, please, I would.
- Thank you.
- Happy Easter.
After church, Alex has a surprise for Peter and Ruth.
- What is this big surprise? - Patience, Ruth, patience.
Come in, come in, come and have a look.
What are you showing us? Listen.
That is the sound of new life on the farm.
- I've got to be very careful.
Look.
- Oh, look at them! Look at all of them! I've got to be careful, though.
I mustn't let too much moisture out of the actual Hello.
You little sweetie.
Oh, look at him.
Look at that.
- Hey! - So sweet.
We must be careful, because there's still more to hatch in here.
And look, oh, look, there's one One, two, three, four.
There's another one at the back there.
We'll just leave them, cos there's obviously still more eggs to hatch.
Do you want to just chuck that one in there? There we go.
A couple more days and they should have all hatched.
They are the perfect accompaniment to the daffodils, and Laddie, and everything we've done.
- We're finally getting success on this farm.
- At last, the sun's come out.
- Good month.
- Oh, he's playful.
Lovely!