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On a damp morning, close to the Wiltshire border, the road to Frome through the misty woodlands of the Duke of Somerset's forest was wet but still easily passable. Our area has been fortunate, relatively flood-free while people elsewhere across Somerset have been suffering desperately.
When I reached the dairy farm at Beckington, I learned that Jersey cows, being relatively small, and not much more than half the weight of Friesians, are better equipped to manage on wet pasture and, normally, can stay out in the fields till early December.
This year, even they came inside in late October. I watched them bent over the rail at the edge of their dry yard, obviously relishing their rations of silage fresh from a hopper. This organic farm grows its own feed, and had been able to make plenty in that almost forgotten sunny spell in the spring. The mix contains red clover and lucerne to give nitrogen, and looks like luxury muesli.
I saw some two-week-old heifers, and one just born, a little unsteady on her feet while the mother cleaned her up. This farm breeds all its own animals, and calving continues the year round.
The creamery, just across from the milking parlour, is where the farm's end products are made. Hi-tech machinery measures the fat content (normally about 5% from Channel Island cattle but a bit higher that morning) of the raw product and then, operated by skilled hands, produces milk and all grades of cream, from pouring to clotted. The buttermilk is itself a valued product.
Two vans leave at midnight three times a week to deliver to discriminating London stores such as Fortnum & Mason. Otherwise, sales are direct to local customers mostly well known to the family, whose sons and daughters are actively engaged in the work and look as if they love it.
