David's Digest

Every year the Royal Norfolk Show runs competitions for schools based around food, farming and the countryside. Pupils are encouraged to research issues of their own choice and then present their findings at the annual Show. Such entries are clearly guided by teachers and that means they get to learn things too.

Last week at the County's highly successful Show this worthwhile tradition was continued and although it is probably invidious to mention just one entry I do not apologise for reporting on the historic presentation from Acle school not far from Gt Yarmouth that jumped out at me - because I was there!.

The pupils had chosen to feature the "Dig for Victory" campaign launched to help feed the nation during the 2nd World War. They had researched what went on during those years and found press cuttings and government pronouncements about how ordinary citizens could produce food from their gardens and allotments.

They recorded how this effort was led by farmers who responded magnificently to the challenge of keeping the nation fed in the face of German U Boat attacks on convoys of ships bringing in food from abroad, mainly America. They disclosed that there were some periods during the conflict when Britain was just a few days from running out of food. And they wrote about rationing to preserve what stocks were available.

It was a particularly timely topic for those of us who think a few years ahead to when this country might again be faced with a similar situation - too little food for a hungry nation. And I encouraged the pupils to spread their message as widely as possible so that more consumers come to understand the need for domestic food production, a minimum level of self sufficiency and adopt a habit of buying home produced food to encourage those who grow it to supply even more when its needed.

Way back in the 1960's I was a freelance broadcaster for the BBC, contributing to such radio programmes as "On Your Farm" and TV shows like "Farming" broadcast each Sunday lunchtime. Both were produced from Birmingham and the BBC deemed it appropriate to host a cocktail party each summer in its own sizeable entertainment marquee at the Royal Show by way of appreciation of its agricultural contributors.

In those days, remember, the Beeb had eight regional agricultural programme producers and a London based staff as well. Some of the chiefs from London used to grace us with their presence on these occasions. Farming mattered in those days. And the Royal Show was pretty good too, attracting huge attendances from all over the country to the then relatively new permanent site at Stoneleigh.

Those of us reporting from the Show hardly had time to attend these BBC jolly's because we were busy chasing round the ground doing interviews. But it was a three line whip and we had to attend if at all possible.

I well remember one occasion when the London based boss of Radio 4 was hosting that I arrived late for the champagne and his speech. I slid into the marquee hoping no-one would notice. But the great man's wife - a lady of considerable proprotions - buttonholed me. "Hello", she boomed, "and who are you?" Oh, I'm just a freelance who does interviews for BBC programmes", I replied. "But most of the time I'm a farmer".

"And where do you farm?" asked the lady, looking for all the world like a galleon in full sail. "I farm in Norfolk", I replied. "Oh, poor you", she said, "but I suppose one has to live in a place like that if you want to farm". My hackles rose and I asked her why she felt the way she did about my county of which I was and still am proud.

"Well", she went on "I'm told its so flat and it must be a cultural desert and I gather there are no decent roads to get there". "Well madam", I replied, "it is nothing like as flat as you seem to believe; it is certainly not a cutural desert and even if the roads are less good than yours in the south east at least it keeps people like you out". I think she got the message. I was perhaps fortunate not to get the sack.

However, these days and indeed for several years now, the BBC presence at the Royal Show has been a caravan or two from which to transmit outside broadcasts. There's no entertainment and no champagne. That, it appears is now reserved for the Glastonbury festival where something over 400 BBC people were paid to spend their time over the weekend.

I suppose we should be grateful that the event actually takes place on a farm. But the juxtaposition over the years of pop music being more important than food production could be interpreted as an interesting commentary on changed priorities over the last half century. I wonder if they will turn up for next weeks wake for the Royal Show?

Walkers with dogs being injured or tragically killed by cattle lead to big headlines. Sadly it is the owners of the cattle who get the blame. "Why do farmers insist on keeping dangerous animals in fields where there are footpaths?" critics demand. You would think by now after several similar cases over the last few years that the walking public, who now claim virtually unrestricted access to farm land, would have realised that it is they who are putting themselves in danger by taking dogs onto such fields. 

David Blunkett was one recent victim and I suppose, as a blind person, he could be excused for taking his dog on a walk because he couldn't see the cattle in the field and may not have known they were there. He escaped with a cracked rib and a nasty shock. But the most recent tragedy involved a lady vet walking her dogs across a fiield of cows and she was killed.

I don't know the details beyond what has been reported in newspapers but it is almost inconceivable that a person trained as she must have been would have taken such a risk. She must have known the cattle were likely to come and check out the dogs. And especially if they had calves at foot that they would regard the dogs as a danger and would attack them. It is normal behaviour and entirely predictable.

It seems to me there should be a nationwide campaign to educate walkers about this. Hopefully it would bring an end to the unreasonable and ignorant demands of some walkers and media that farmers should be banned from allowing animals to graze their pastures and to the all too regular reports of such incidents.

I know just how the tennis authorities at Wimbledon must be feeling. Many years ago after a succession of wet harvests we decided to install a continuous flow drier. We had relied for too long on under floor ventilation to dry our grain and with tightening regulations on moisture content felt we must go for a faster and more positive solution. We saved up, borrowed more, worked hard all spring and summer to complete the work on time - and what happened? That harvest we had some of the best weather on record and we never fired up the new drier once.

As the Wimbledon officials look forward to the next week or two they must be wondering about the wisdom of their investment. The forecast is for perfect tennis weather. Hot and dry all the way. OK, the forecasters may be wrong but at present the tens of millions spent on the new roof over Center Court must look like a white elephant.

But a word of comfort - if my experience is any guide they may feel that way now but in years to come they will be pleased they spent the money. I just wish I could afford to erect a temporary cover over all my fields just before harvest. It would make for much less stressful combining.

Its old news now, having happened two days ago, but since then we've had a series of power outages because of exploding transformers and so on and I have been unable to find time in the office when the electricity was live to report it to you. It seems settled now so here goes.

On Monday evening at about six o'clock, after we had been waiting for forecast thunder storms all day, the sky clouded over, lightning began to flash all around us and the associated thunder got nearer and nearer. Suddenly the rain began and came down in sheets. Roofs in the farm buildings and farmhouse were tested to the limit and later we discovered some leaks. Surface water flooded drains unable to cope with the volume and the farm drive was like a river. I didn't venture out to look at the crops but when I did I counted myself lucky that we did not appear to have any damage apart from flooded patches in low lying areas. Those patches are still flooded today. It takes a while for 33mm falling in an hour to disappear.

But I didn't realise just how lucky we had been. Less than a quarter of a mile from three big fields of our sugar beet and a fifty acre block of wheat a swathe of hail cut crops to smitherines. Barley ears were cut off and smashed to the ground; wheat seemed to stand up a bit better but ended up bruised and bent; sugar beet leaves were mashed to a pulp. The beet will prabably recover but not without serious loss of yield and sugar. The cereals are too close to harvest and too badly damaged to allow anything other than a salvage operation, come harvest.

I'm not sure if the victims of this carnage were insured. If they were they will be making sizeable claims. If they were not they face a much reduced return on the affaected fields. We haven't had anything like this in Norfolk for years.

So the saintly Delia Smith is recommending consumers stock up with New Zealand lamb for summer barbecues. And she includes in her "ad" for it the implication that New Zealand sheep enjoy the best welfare on the planet - so its OK to buy stuff that's come half way round the world.

Maybe she hasn't heard how they manage their flocks over there. Its all based on the Easycare principle and effectively that means no care. If a sheep is ill, flock owners don't call the vet because its too expensive and the reasoning is that the animal must have a weakness or it wouldn't be ill in the first place. So it either gets better on its own or dies. And if it dies it is left where it falls for the foxes to clear up. Which would, of course, be illegal and unacceptable in this country and land flock owners in court for neglect.

Commercially Easycare is a cheap production system and more and more European farmers are adopting some parts of it so as to allow the Darwinian principle of survival of the fittest to rule. But to pretend for marketing reasons in this country that Easycare in its purest and complete form is high welfare and kindest to animals is, to say the least disingenuous. 

So, Delia, Commander of the British Empire, do a bit more research before you hit your sheep farming Norwich City supporters and others in this country in the teeth. I think you will find their lambs have a better life than those you have been persuaded to promote.

Several years ago my bank adopted the habit of regularly promoting senior clerks to junior management positions. Staff have to be trained, of course, but what happened in our region was that each newly promoted person was given farming to learn on. Over the course of five years I had five different bank managers and it was extremely tiresome.

One day I met the local director of the bank and complained to him that I felt we local farmers were training his managers; that it took a great deal of time to familiarise each new candidate with farming in general and the complications of our individual businesses in particular; that I could not tolerate having to start from scratch and explain every historic detail whenever I wished to modify my banking arrangements; furthermore that if the practice continued I would change banks. I added that I was not alone in feeling that way.

The director listened and clearly took the message to heart because he contacted me later to say that all things being equal there would be no change of manager for at least five years. And I am pleased to say the bank stuck by that assurance.

I feel the same way about ministers of agricutlure and I suspect Peter Kendall feels it even more strongly. Since 2005 there have been five of them - Lord Whitty, Lord Bach, Lord Rooker, Jane Kennedy, and now Jim Fitzpatrick. OK, I respect Jane Kennedy's reasons for resigning from the post. I couldn't work for Gordon Brown either. But there is an inescapable feeling that the Prime Minister couldn't care less about farming and is simply filling the post with placemen who have been loyal to him without any consideration for their likely knowledge of or commitment to the job. In reality, of course, he is only really concerned at present with saving his political skin.

My brief contacts with Jane Kennedy, despite her being an urban MP from Liverpool, led me to believe she was learning fast and had become a worthy advocate for farming in the nine months she held the job. Jim Fitzpatrick may, for all I know, be a very nice chap who will be just as consciencious. But he represents Poplar and Canning Town in London, which doesn't sound like a very good start. And given there will be a General Election within twelve months, perhaps sooner, his tenure too is likely to be a short one.

What a pity we can't influence politicians like I and others did the bank.

One of the arable farmers the recent Farmers Weekly Study Tour of Ireland visited had bought 100 acres about three years ago. It was good land and close to home, unlike some he rented that was up to 60 miles away. OK, by taking on the management of land so far from the home base he had increased the size of his operation considerably to well above 1000acres. But the opportunity to buy this relatively small parcel on his doorstep seemed to him and his family too good to miss.

At the time the Irish economy was booming, arable commodity prices were rising, and demand for land in the locality was high because a new motorway had sliced many farms in two and the government had paid out generous compensation to affected farmers. Very little land changes hands in Ireland. Demand was strong and he had had to pay Euro27,000, or over £24,000/acre at current exchange rates to secure the land because of this combination of circumstances.

Today, he admitted, that land would be unlikely to make Euro10,000/acre and if it were not for the low interest rates on the money borrowed to fund the purchase he would be unable to service the loan.

That kind of extreme volatility is the result of the credit crunch and its ramifications in Ireland where there have been four budgets this year, so far, and the economy is in almost as serious a melt-down as that in Iceland, together with the sharp fall in soft commodity prices world wide.

The family were among the best arable farmers in Ireland. Their crops were immaculately managed and looked like yielding bumper crops. But at the end of the day the value of those crops was similar, or a bit less, than what we get in England and the FW party wondered whether such investments could possibly stand up to the pressures that will surely occur over coming years.

It must be this sudden burst of Bank Holiday sunny weather. Two things have happened. I've been sneezing and rubbing my eyes because of all the pollen floating around in the atmosphere. It's really quite uncomforatable and my eyes are continuously sore. Sun glasses help but only a little.

Then yesterday afternoon when temperatures were at their highest I heard a loud humming outside the kitchen window. I looked out to see a swarm of bees outside the window and when I went to investigate further I found they were buzzing in and out of a ventilation brick beside the back door. I assume the queen must have decided the vent would make a good new home and led her drones and workers with her.

Trouble was there wasn't enough room in the wall for the whole swarm and before I could stop them thousands (well, OK, hundreds) had invaded the kitchen. Fortunately most stayed at one end of the room by the window enabling me to get to the phone and ring our pest controller. He was fishing for cod ten miles off Southwold when he answered his mobile but assured me he would be here to deal with the problem as soon as he came ashore.

A few hours later he arrived by which time most of the bees had gone to bed with their queen and sadly a lot more had died as they tried to find their way out of the kitchen. Sadder still, because I like bees and what they do for us, the only way for our pest man to deal with the swarm was to kill them in the wall.

The problem is now over and there are no more insects in the house. But at a time when bees are dieing from foul brood disease and numbers are also being depleted by other mysterious problems I regretted what we had to do. But you can't live in the same space as a swarm of bees - unless, of course, your'e another bee.

Because of production and print times for magazines I have to write my columns for Farmers Weekly several days ahead of publication. Having written and sent off the piece for the latest edition, in which I moaned about lack of rain and the damage I feared it was doing, it rained quite a lot for a few days. In fact we had nearly 30mm over the course of about a week and I was beginning to think I'd made a fool of myself (again!).

For there is no doubt the rain perked up the sugar beet and the winter wheat no end and they now look reasonable, if a little late. But one of my biggest concerns was the spring oil seed rape, drilled after I was forced to pull up failed winter rape. We had tickled the top and drilled the spring crop fairly shallowly into moist soil. But as I feared the long dry spell that followed was too much for it to survive, especially on heavy land where the tilth was cobbly.

So, we now have about three quarters of the acreage of spring OSR that looks OK (always provided I can keep the ruddy pigeons from eating it - its almost a full time job) but the other quarter is gappy and thin and clearly will never make a full crop now. As I suspected when I wrote that FW piece the seeds must have germinated and then died for lack of moisture.

So, that's two partial crop failures on the same land in the same year. And its no consolation to me that other farmers of my acquaintance, in the fens and in north Norfolk have had even less rain than we have so have even greater crop failures than I have. I just hope the fact that I have applied to take our Single Farm Payment in Euro's this year helps to make up the loss.