Farmer?
“If your ship doesn’t come sailing in, swim out to it.”
Bob Monkhouse
Until now, I'd been fixed to a computer screen for most of my working life. I wanted to try something completely different. I wanted to know what it felt like to be physically active at work and to be exposed to the elements. I wanted to experience what it was like when work was not to be regulated by clockwork, but by daylight. I went to see The Moo Man.
The Moo Man
Stephen Hook runs a family farm in Hailsham, UK. He refuses to play by the rules of factory farming. In the past decade he has cleverly re-crafted his business to escape the noose of wholesale price wars. He believes that the business, the animals and his produce are better off as a result.
Stephen produces raw (unpasteurised) organic milk. He has found a lucrative niche by selling directly to consumers in local farmers markets and doorstep delivery rounds.
Excited by Stephen's story, I picked up the phone and explained to him that I was on a quest to find my dream job. "Your job sounds like fun - can I come and see what it's like?" I said (wincing about how weird that sounded). Unphased, he invited me roll up my sleeves and spend a few days working on the farm. I was instructed to report to the main barn for first light on a crisp December morning where farmhand, Tayah, would be my guide for the day.
Day 1: Sunrise
Tayah, who was only 19, was trusted with running the whole farm by herself on a Sunday. She greeted me with a warm smile and told me that today I was going to get covered in shit.
“Put this on,” she said, handing me an already mucky apron. The cows were kept inside for winter and our first job was to get them all up and heading in the direction of the milking parlour.
We had to manoeuvre our way to the back of the barn and cajole them into action. Tayah was confidently tapping them all on the backside and shouting, “Come on, Up Up Up!” in a way they seemed to understand. I, on the other hand, seemed to find myself stuck in the wrong place, wedged in the middle of these massive beasts as they headed for the exit. I tried to copy Tayah’s confident, no-nonsense demeanour but it wasn’t fooling any of them. They eyeballed me as they pushed passed. I knew they could sense weakness.
The milking parlour had two gangways for the cows to stand on whilst they were being milked. We stood in a central column a few feet lower so that we had easy access to their udders.
Tayah explained what to do:
“Right, the most important thing is to keep everything really clean. You have to clean the teats with this stuff [a red bottle with some potent looking fluid in], then wipe them and rinse them with this [pointing to more potions and cleaning gear]. ONLY once they are really clean, can we put the sucker units on.”
I nodded and attempted to clean my first set of teats. The cow could feel my novice hands and kicked its leg in protest. I jumped back out of fear.
“Come on, you can do this”, I told myself, “Get back in there”. I reached for the bottle and the teat and tried again. This time, my fumbling really irritated the cow. It lifted its tale and defecated on the floor (narrowly missing the back of my head). Soupy brown liquid splattered all over my front and bits of my face. I was horrified and looked aghast at Tayah. Weren’t they trained not to shit on humans?
She burst into laughter and handed me a hose.
“Swill it down and start again. Remember, you’ve got to keep this place scrupulously clean.”
I looked across at the sea of cows still waiting to be milked.
“There’s another 80 cows to go," I thought. “I’ve got to do this twice a day for 2 days... that’s more than 1000 teats to clean and I’ve not even managed one. This is a nightmare.”
Tayah switched on the radio and began singing. I watched as she expertly cleaned the teats and put on the milking equipment. She seemed to have a sixth sense about when a cow was going to kick and moved out of the way just in time. She didn’t seem to mind the mess or the cold. She was completely absorbed in a state of flow.
The next couple of hours were tough. It was a relief when we reached the final cow for milking.
The middle of the day was spent feeding the herd, mucking out and tending to newborn calves. With Tayah’s guidance, I taught a newborn calf to drink milk from the feeder for the first time. Relying on instinct, it latched onto my finger as it would her mother’s teat and instantly started to suckle it. With my finger still in its mouth, I had to guide the calf to the feeder teat. I watched as it heartily suckled milk, its huge eyes beaming up at me. I quickly forgot about the flecks of crap on my face and my aching back - these physical discomforts paled into insignificance compared to the satisfaction I got from helping this beautiful creature through a critical stage in its life. It was an intensely fulfilling moment.
Early evening saw another round of milking. A few hours after nightfall, we were done for the day. I returned to my BnB starving hungry, smelly and extremely tired. After a quick bite to eat, I went straight to bed, for tomorrow morning, I had to start all over again.
By lunchtime the following day, I confessed to Tayah that I was flagging. “How do you have the energy to keep on going?” I asked.
“I’ve got to work everyday throughout December (7 days a week including Christmas day) to cover holiday shifts. And I’ve got another part time job at Dominos Pizza. I do that on Friday evenings when I finish early on the farm.”
I was completely in awe. It was immensely hard, dirty and never ending work. Tayah handled the animals with affection and authority and was more than capable of milking, calving, administering medication and driving tractors. She approached her work with great spirit and our days together were full of laughter.
Stephen Hook
Stephen grew up on the farm and spent much of his childhood helping his dad, Phil. The two are still in partnership but Stephen has now inherited overall responsibility.
“I never wanted to do anything else. To be honest, I never really thought about it. I grew up on the farm helping dad and always knew I’d take over one day.”
Today, the farm is booming: rising demand for local, high-quality produce has been great for business. At the weekend, Stephen sends a fleet of vans up to London to distribute produce at 20 farmers markets. He has even introduced a nationwide postal service for customers as far away as Carlisle.
Knowing that many dairy farmers have struggled due to supermarket price cuts, I asked Stephen whether business had always been this good.
“No, absolutely not. There certainly have been some darker times. About 10 years ago, we were really struggling. The price of milk was going lower and lower and it was impossible to make any money. At our lowest, it was just myself and dad running the farm. We were putting in 70 hours a week and still had to live off working tax credits. I remember sitting round the table with dad, our heads in our hands, deeply concerned about what we were going to do.”
Stephen knew it was impossible to compete on price with larger industrialised farms.
After plenty of soul searching, Stephen and Phil came up with a very clever plan that enabled them to escape the competition. Supermarkets are not able to stock their shelves with raw milk as, legally, it can only be sold by farmers.
By shifting to raw milk, Hook & Son went from being price competitors to price setters. Stephen used to receive around 20p per litre of milk. Now, he commands around £2.
His produce is no longer a commodity: it is a talking point. His story has attracted the attention of documentary makers Andy Heathcote and Heike Bachelier whose film, The Moo Man won a nomination at The British Independent Film Awards. Stephen and Andy toured the country to launch the film at cinemas nationwide.
As Stephen drove me through his grasslands, a world heritage site of natural beauty, he told me about his plans to diversify:
“We’re planning to install some glamping units down here. We’ll suspend them from the trees. In the summer you will be able to wake up to birdsong and cows grazing underneath your bed. We already have a strong customer base, who can afford to pay a premium for the milk and they love our story. Hopefully, they will be our first glamping customers. Diversifying is a bit of an insurance policy but also it’s making the most of the assets we have".
“These here are willow trees and they make fantastic cricket bats. We’re thinking of making our own on the farm.”
“I believe there is always an opportunity when something changes, regardless of whether it’s immediately good or bad for you. Bob Monkhouse once said that if your ship doesn’t come sailing in, swim out to it.”
“Now, come and see Big Billy…”
Big Billy
Big Billy is Stephen’s beloved pet bull. Some of the heifers were dauntingly large but Big Billy was on another scale. Weighing in at over 1 tonne, he was monstrous.
“Come into the field so you can stroke him!” Stephen offered.
“Err… I’m alright here thanks.”
Stephen hopped over the gate and wandered up to Big Billy.
He brought Billy over to the gate and started to give his neck a good massage.
“He’s got a knotty bit in there, I can feel it!”.
Billy loved it.
Conclusion
I returned from Hook & Son deeply humbled with a renewed respect for farmers. Until now, I had been guilty of picking up a pint of milk without thinking about the people, animals and processes behind it. It can be a lonely and dangerous business: over my few days on the farm, I had heard numerous stories of work-related injuries and even of friends who had been crushed by cows. Stephen told me that the combination of isolation and financial pressures meant that the suicide rate for farmers was particularly high.
Head herdsman Peter put it best:
“It’s a hard game, there is always something against you - a sick cow, the weather, price of supermarket milk. You’re always being squeezed somewhere. Someone needs to be here 10 - 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. Farming is not a way to make millions, it’s a way of life.”
It was physically demanding, messy and at times dangerous work but there were also elements of extreme beauty. I had to pinch myself as I fed the calves under a crisp, clear-blue sky. I watched their breath condense in the cool dry air and listened to the symphony of surrounding birdsong. My morning commute was blessed with the pink glow of sunrise.
Despite the hardship, I got a real sense that everyone I met enjoyed being there. They felt a sense of ownership, a connection with the animals and pride in their work. Once the cows were settled in their beds for the night, it was particularly satisfying to open the milk container and see the clear result of a hard day’s graft.
I had learned that I was simply not cut out for being a farmer - I had neither the stamina nor the courage to manage a herd of cows. I did, however, learn a lot from my time on the farm.
Tayah had shown me just how far a smile and laughter can go to get you through a difficult day. It was her positive attitude that would make her Christmas Day milking bearable.
Stephen had taught me the importance of fighting for something you believe in. Had it not been for his sheer dedication and strategic thinking, the farm would have collapsed just like many of those around him. He told me how fighting through difficult times made him appreciate the successes all the more.
Whenever I buy milk, I spare a thought for Stephen and Tayah and smile at the memory of being covered head-to-toe in cow shit.
