I run my small farm with draught horses. Four of them. Bella, Albert, George and Joey. They are the motive power on our land. We do not own or use any tractors. I came to this way of being from the tattered detritus of a former life. It had always been a dream with me, for as long as I could remember, to return to a horse drawn past. It was a life I felt would be more fulfilling than the barren and boring existence that so much of modernity offered.

In our part of North Devon, John Symmonds is famous. Famous not in the modern way of fame, in that he is famous merely for being famous, but in the old manner of fame in that he is famous amongst his peers for possessing certain skills and practical knowledge and as a custodian of something special. For “Cider John”, as he is known locally, is a maker of cider, and not just any old cider, but cider made in the manner of cider crafted on small yeoman farms in Somerset and Devon for centuries. The process of “Cider John’s” alchemy is a relatively simple affair, yet it requires certain irreplaceable essentials before commencement.

I first discovered “Devon Yeast Cakes” at South Molton Pannier Market, on the Women’s Institute baked goods stall. They were made for sale by a venerable old lady who had been taught to make them by her mother many years before. On the one occasion I met her before she passed away, she told me that they were standard breakfast fare on farms in the area at harvest time when she was a girl. They were made to fill up the farm workers before the start of the working day, and then again with their mid afternoon tea. Cheap and easy to make, she said some of the “boys” could almost eat their own body weight in them!

In England it’s the time of year when jams and preserves get competitive, beer and cider tents are full to bursting, old tractors are scrubbed up for showing, and new tractors and equipment seek buyers. Make no mistake: it’s an important part of the yearly cycle and as farmers show and parade some of the country’s finest livestock hoping to catch a breeder’s eye or out-do their neighbours, a commercial imperative is always present.

We live in a beautiful and sparsely populated area of England. North Devon as a whole, and Exmoor in particular, is the least populated administrative area in the whole of England. It’s a wild, hilly and open area which has not changed much throughout history, being renowned for it’s beauty, it’s banditry, and it’s breed of sheep. While the banditry might have waned a little, it’s still a wonderful place to call home, and the Exmoor breed of sheep is still going strong.

You can recognize an Exmoor pony at a glance. They are compact and sturdy, standing roughly 11 to 12 hands high, with dense bone and big, kind eyes partially sheltered by fleshy lids that shed rain and wind, often nicknamed “toad eyes.” Their coats are shades of brown, bay, or dark dun, with lighter “mealy” patches around the muzzle, eyes, and flanks, and black points on the mane, tail, and legs. White markings are rare. Their double winter coat is famously weatherproof, the top layer shedding rain so effectively that droplets bead and roll off like water from a Barbour waxed jacket. Even the tail is practical: a broad, lowset “snow-chute” shape that channels runoff away from the hindquarters.

While the Swiss system of government might already be familiar to some, what is less well know is that Switzerland has a longstanding tradition of valuing and protecting small farmers and their farmland and insisting on its use solely for agricultural purposes. In doing this it takes stringent measures to prevent farmland becoming an investment tool or falling to industrial or suburban development. The country recognizes the importance of preserving its agricultural heritage, ensuring food security, and maintaining a sustainable environment. Swiss law protects the nation’s farmland, and actively promotes local family farms and is enshrined in the Swiss Confederation Constitution which explicitly states that the Confederation and the Cantons shall ensure the preservation of agricultural land.

I like to think I’m a positive sort of chap… but sometimes, occasionally, it is hard to remain completely without foreboding. Today I am struck by the thought that British farming is under pressure, and many a small farmer here in the UK would agree that the current government’s policies are contributing to, or at the very least failing to alleviate, what many small farmers see as a crisis.

It is fair to say that the harrow is one of the oldest and most versatile tools in all the long history of agriculture. It has been essential in shaping the landscape of farming, serving as a tool for soil cultivation, management of grassland and for various tasks related to crop production. Over centuries, it evolved from a simple wooden structure to more complex mechanized devices, and yet while the harrow once played a central role in agricultural practices worldwide, it’s importance has declined in recent decades due to technological advancements and the rise of more specialized machinery and farming practices.

Ploughing is an age-old agricultural practice, a cornerstone of farming since it’s earliest beginnings. The method involves turning over the top layer of soil to prepare it for planting, effectively controlling weeds, aerating the earth, and incorporating organic matter into the soil structure. While modern agriculture has seen the rise of no-till and reduced-tillage methods, ploughing remains a vital process for many farmers to this day.

Meadows can look very different, depending on what is growing in them, but the key feature is that the vegetation is left during the growing and flowering season, and then cut. This system provides an ideal habitat for many wildflowers as it gives them time to flower and set seed before the grass is removed. The process of cutting decreases the fertility of the soil and allows plants other than the normally dominant grasses to take their place in the sward. The advantage of the hay meadow to pollinators has to be seen to be believed, the land teems with them, and with crickets, beetles, and bugs of every type imaginable.

When we were looking to buy our small farm, the real estate agent took me on a tour of the pastures and fields. As we passed what I eventually named as the “Marsh Field,” I asked the realtor if a small section of steep woodland off to the north belonged to the farm. “Oh yes, that’s yours as well, but it’s overgrown, too steep for tractors, and you won’t get much use from it.”