Warming Seas

Thursday 20 July

I couldn’t explain it at first. Why was it that, with every question I
asked, James the mussel man seemed to get a little shorter? Starting
off eye to eye yet within ten minutes he was eye to Adam’s apple.
This week’s shoot is all about the gradually warming seas around
Britain affecting what lives there, what our fishermen can expect to
haul up and what we might see for our tea. Average water temperature
around the UK has gone up one degree Celsius in the last 50 years.
Not enough to swap your wetsuit for something more itsy-bitsy but
sufficient for southern visitors to take up residence and we’ve been
looking at what’s new around the coast of north Wales.
First from the deep was supposed to be spider crabs but the wretched
‘summer’ weather scuppered us again and it was too rough to venture
out and lift the pots. Plan b was a fish wholesaler but even he
couldn’t promise. So as we rounded the corner to his chilled sheds I
was quite agitated: excited as a childhood memory flickered of seeing
spider crabs dwarfing a space hopper in the Guinness book of records
yet nervous as he might have none and it’s difficult to make telly
without seeing what you are talking about. He had some. Still alive
but docile, he said they move like ‘grease lightning’ underwater and
the lobster boys are bringing in more and more. The trouble is that
the British shopper is too cautious to dig into what resembles the
‘face-hugger’ from Alien plus a hard shell and minus a tail. The
Spanish used to buy them but are a little strapped just now.
But the warmer water seems to be washing out the cod. Already hammered
by our own overfishing, their recovery has been hampered by the
favourite food of the cod larvae being a plankton which thrives in
chillier seas. Less food for littl’uns means fewer healthy adults.
Only when the tide was right could we make the last stop of the day.
The home of one third of the farmed mussels sold in the UK: the
mudflats of the Menai Strait. A struggle to reach and only achieved
with waders and frequent comedy floundering. Heat loving invasive
species, already apparent at Holyhead, threaten to smother the mussel
beds in brown goo. A more acidic ocean resulting from more CO2 in the
air could impede shell growth. But the more immediate peril was the
fate of the incredible shrinking man who was delivering this
information.
He was, of course, sinking slowly in the mud, maybe I have bigger
feet. But it wasn’t strictly mud he told us but what has already
passed through the mussels: “pseudo – faeces” in fact.
Nice... Tomorrow we may see dolphins.

Village Pubs

Blogging from a bar, it could go one of two ways - rambling or unusually creative. We’ve already encountered the dilemma of whether to drink or not during interviews shot in a pub. Abstaining looks unnatural, but imbibing risks drunkenness on set and continuity problems as the level in the glass moves up and down. Both are cardinal sins in the BBC handbook! 

This week we are investigating the plight of Britain’s village watering holes, as around four are closing every week. How can this be when everyone seems to treasure them so deeply and tourists say they are the third most important reason for visiting this country? 

Today we’ve been in the Derbyshire village of Parwich, filming in the Sycamore. One secret of survival here is opening another business in the pub. In fact when you walk in the door it looks more like a family home. But on the right is a door marked ‘shop’ – it used to be the dining room. It may be small but it’s an Aladdin’s cave of household goods - puncture repair kits and packing tape, cauliflowers and lighter fuel. 

Janet, the publican/shopkeeper/mother of a toddler, says she simply stocks what people want. What she’d like is for locals just to spend a bit more with her and swerve the supermarket delivery van. It’s a devotional existence, more like a calling than a job. Janet puts in around 80 hours a week and, when she plots income against her time, she receives barely half the minimum wage. 

Most pubs are owned by either breweries or big pub companies. Many of these are in serious financial trouble, some owing billions to the bank. But their spokesman insisted they weren’t leeching money from the local boozer to pay off their debts, blaming instead the government for high duty and VAT on alcohol. 

Every year I make the same, not very pious, New Year’s resolution. Drink more… in my local pub. Achievable with a noble aims!  Why not join the pledge?

Birds of Prey

In the backyard of a small pebble dashed semi, just south of Edinburgh, we found a father and son scanning the sky. Peering intently above the roof tops and shading their eyes from the bright cloud. Even as we talked they cast nervous glances to the heavens. They fear ‘death from above’, not for them but their prized pigeons. What most people would welcome as a wildlife success story - the gradual recovery of many of Britain’s bird of prey species – they view as a deadly threat to their pets and their passion. They’ve lost six in the last six months this year. Watching a peregrine falcon hunt a pigeon is like a “Ferrari taking on yer’ Astra” according to William – a pigeon fancier from the age of seven who, now approaching sixty, has just given up as he can't bear the growing death toll. 

This week we are filming an investigation into the impact of our growing birds of prey population: majestic kings of the air restored to their rightful dominion of the sky or a menace to game, pigeons and garden birds? The lordly language above has been prompted by another filming location. Dalhousie Castle was the last redoubt in Scotland to be besieged by an English King in person: Henry IV in 1400. There we saw our most successful bird of prey – the buzzard – whose numbers have doubled in the last fifteen years. We needed some stunt birds for close ups and controlled filming so the local falconer Denise flew Dolly and Watson. Graceful in flight, stunning in detail but still faintly chilling sitting on my thick glove, especially as they turn to fix you with those hawk-eyes. I know what it feels like to be lunch. 

So do pheasants. Especially those reared for shooting on a nearby estate where the gamekeeper reckons they kill one thousand of his birds every year. He wants permission to kill or move the local buzzards. 

“But surely” I said “they are part of the natural world undeserving of extermination for your sport”. 

“No, pheasants are my livestock and my livelihood and like a farmer I should be allowed to protect them”. 

Another thorny one: see for yourself on CountryFile BBC 1 Sunday July 1st.

Thursday 31 May 2012

“Removing the lid from that flask would be a rapidly life limiting experience”. This potent understatement was delivered this morning as we filmed examples of waste nuclear fuel for which Britain is still struggling to find a long term home. We were at Chapelcross in Scotland – one of the country’s oldest nuclear reactors built back in the fifties primarily to provide weapons grade plutonium but also producing useful amounts of electricity for the grid. Now being decommissioned,  the spent fuel is shipped off site in cubic bomb proof flasks ( I love the way they call them flasks – it makes them sound a bit like your Gran’s thermos of warming tea on a blustery beach). First stop is Sellafield before some material joins the growing pile of Nuclear waste we don’t know what to do with.  

We are investigating the plans for deep underground burial, a project of mind stretching scale: bigger than the channel tunnel, covering 20sqkm underground, throwing up spoil heaps the size of 2 pyramids of Giza, taking two lifetimes to complete and designed to contain the radiation below for longer than mankind has walked the land above .  

“Hands up who wants that” asked the government and so far the only credible volunteer looks like being West Cumbria – the seaward skirt of the Lake District where Sellafield sits and delivers more than one billions pounds every year to the local economy alongside plenty of jobs.  So, politically plausible but what about the geology….errm… Not quite so attractive according to an expert who took us for a walk along the cliffs at nearby St Bees. Showing us cracks in the sandstone where water seeps out today, he predicted that, if the plans went ahead, that water could be irradiated in a couple of hundred years and, in half that time, radioactive gases could seep to the surface. “The geology’s much better in Norfolk, between Cambridge and Norfolk” he said. Not a claim likely to feature heavily in the ‘Visit East Anglia’ brochure and not all geologists share his doubts about Cumbria. But it does raise an interesting question. 

Should radioactive waste be buried where it is popular or where it is safe? Critical viewing on CountryFile BBC 1 Sunday 17th June. 

Thursday 24 May 2012

The ten day old calf may have been small but, boy, could it suck. In an effort to wrangle the small bull into a camera friendly position I was advised to stick my finger in his mouth to mimic the teat. This did, temporarily, calm the young bull but the novel sensation of rasping tongue and serious suction did little for my smooth delivery to camera - did clean my nails though. He soon realised the con was on and no milk was forthcoming, at which point he started to but his head upwards in the way they bash their mum’s udders. Liveliness was forgivable as this calf, though only young, was lucky to be alive as he is a boy born of a dairy herd and 100,000 of his like are shot soon after birth. 

Dairy cows need to have calves in order to produce milk and while females are useful to re-stock the herd, many of the males are unwanted. Now, British veal (or ‘rose’ due to its pinker flesh) is highly favoured both by chefs and animal welfare experts as it now has the space to run around and tastes great. But it’s still a niche market incapable of taking all the newborn bulls – so could they be grown on as beef? Compassion in World Farming think so but some farmers fear rearing an animal bred for milk yield not beef production will prove a waste of time, pasture and expensive feed. 

But could there be a hi-tech solution? A note just in from the film researcher in the office promises ‘Tom can look at the screen and see sperm wriggling around’. Do not adjust you set, this is still Countryfile – but we’ll be in a lab which can split boys from girls with the artificial insemination. 

Life, death, sex…what more do you want on a Sunday night?

“This is Miss Folckes’ path. It’s the route she followed three centuries ago to reach the neighbouring squire’s house. Look, it’s marked on this map from 1777 with her name”. This, according to a passionate gentleman we filmed today, was all the evidence required to permit a 21st century right of way which would have given walkers a pretty decent view of his personal hygiene routine, passing as it did within twenty feet of his bathroom window.

We are in a world of stout footwear and waterproof maps as we stride into the realm of the rambler. There are 118,000 miles of public footpaths in England (that would take you nearly 5 times round the equator) yet by 2026 there could be more as historic, so called, ‘lost ways’ and used but undesignated routes could be classified for access. Some may be thrilled, others alarmed.

Of more immediate concern to many rural strollers is what to do when you are confronted by the ploughed up path. Trudge on through with ever growing plates of mud weighing down each step or detour round the narrow margin amongst the nettles and brambles? We’ll reveal the right answer and who to complain to when you get home.

Horse Fostering latest: We had a great response to May 13th’s film about abandoned and neglected horses. The RSPCA were especially pleased as they were launching the appeal to find foster homes for ponies in that tricky ‘adolescent’ period when they are too young to be ridden, yet still cost a fortune to keep and plenty of potential good homes got in touch. They have been contacted by more than 25 potential fosterers and wanted to pass on their thanks to the programme and our viewers. I was pleased to get away with the most eye-watering shot of a bucket lid your likely to see on telly this year – it’s on i-player until Sunday 20th May if you missed it! And if you have a genuine interest in fostering a horse, you can find out more from the RSPCA

CountryFile Sunday evening 10 June BBC 1

Today ended with a big surprise when checking in to our hotel and finding the bar populated by buff men wearing pants but little else. All the more unexpected as we are staying in a town which could double for the one in ‘Hot Fuzz’ though, hopefully, with fewer firearms.

This week’s film contrasts the growing appetite for people to get into farming with the increasing difficulty in actually doing it. Land prices have more than doubled in the last five years as rising food demand looks a good bet but, perhaps more importantly, big money is looking for a safe haven. As an investment, land is quite literally the new gold: putting it further from the reach of aspiring farmers and into the grasp of pension funds and oligarchs.
Meanwhile, agricultural colleges are seeing applications boom but Rachel, who we met at Harper Adams, is typical of her classmates in not finding a job on a British farm: she is going all the way to New Zealand to raise calves. Buying farms outright was always tricky for new entrants and young blood often flowed towards county farms, land owned and let by local authorities. But many of these are being flogged off too as cash strapped councils need the money for services. Tomorrow we’ll meet a council tenant farmer whose land is being sold beneath him.

Down at the front desk, hasty enquiries revealed sporting your smalls was not dress code but part of a local fashion show fundraiser for breast cancer care. No Countryfile team members were tempted onto the catwalk.

CountryFile Sunday evening 20 May BBC 1