All Creatures Great & Small

by Heather Benson

SDPB’s Social Media Specialist Heather Benson lives on and operates a small Clay County acreage named “Dalarna Farm,” after a province in central Sweden known for its horses. A fan of Scottish country veterinarian James Herriot’s All Creatures Great and Small book series since she was a young girl growing up around Menno, Benson reflects on the series’ influence on the cusp of the new Masterpiece adaption premiering January 10 on SDPB.

“Moving a hand carefully around the uterus I began the fascinating business of sorting out the tangle which is just about my favorite job in practice. I had to bring a head and two legs up together in order to deliver a lamb; but they had to belong to the same lamb or I was in trouble. It was a matter of tracing each leg back to see if it was a hind or a fore, to find if it joined a shoulder or disappeared into the depths.” – James Herriot, All Things Bright & Beautiful

That single paragraph of Scottish veterinarian James Herriot’s second book is something I pull from my mental reference library each lambing season. His stories provide not just entertainment but an education, of sorts. A sizable portion of the animal husbandry skills I use today on our small farm come to me courtesy of a childhood spent immersed in Herriot’s Yorkshire veterinary practice. Reading Herriot is how I learned to untangle a jumble of lamb limbs while elbow deep inside an ewe, about giving beer to a grumpy sow (only works if she is a happy, sleepy drunk and not a mean drunk!) and how to work cattle without modern cattle-working facilities. A little James Herriot education goes a long way when you grow up and decide that filling your farm with livestock would be the perfect way to absorb every moment of free time for years to come.

In the first four years we owned Dalarna Farm, I had the good fortune to combine my literary education from Dr. Herriot with a real-life practicum taught by our local veterinarian, Dr. Larry Lounsbery. Already 50 years in the field when I first retained his services for an elderly barn cat, “Doc” came to my rescue more times than I care to count. Whether it was rescuing a choking sheep or saving our family dog from an allergic reaction, he met each emergency with the same calm and care Dr. Herriot always brought to his books.

Doc was one of the increasingly rare breed of veterinarians who treat all animals, great and small, in their rural practices. As the veterinary field, like human medicine, becomes more specialized, these practitioners still fill their days with appointments as broad and varied as those found in Herriot’s humble farm practice. Busy mixed clinics like Dr. Lounsbery’s meant that more often than not, I was his veterinary assistant on farm calls, especially after-hours emergencies. Without my realization, Doc continued my education, and as our doctor-client relationship grew, Doc came to expect more of me and taught me to expect more of myself.

Consider one Saturday morning when I was about to leave our farm for a funeral. As I did my final walkthrough of the lambing barn, I found a ewe in labor. She was straining, stressed and had at least one week before her due date, so I knew something had gone badly wrong. Though the morning was chilly and I was due at the church, I got a bucket of warm soapy water and rolled up my sleeves, just as Dr. Herriot often did on the moors of Yorkshire.

I washed up, reached inside, and hoped for a simple problem. Instead, I discovered the tail and hips of the biggest lamb I’d ever felt. The baby was backwards, with feet facing the wrong way. I needed to get my hand in further and bring his hind legs around so he could come out, but no amount of pushing seemed to make room for my hand. I began to feel as panicky as the ewe, and I knew I needed help. A frantic call to Doc yielded no good news—Doc was headed into surgery and unable to arrive to our farm for many hours. I was on my own. And yet I was not.

Resident livestock guardian dog (LDG), Punzi, with a lamb.

Heather Benson.

Doc’s calm voice on the phone, combined with the mental imagery conjured by my years of reading Herriot’s lambing stories, guided me through the panic. Slowly, measuring success in millimeters, I moved my hands along the curve of the baby’s wooly leg until I found a tiny hoof. Carefully, I brought it around. One leg out made room for the other. Soon I had a gasping, sneezing lamb sitting on what were once my carefully pressed church clothes.

At some point during delivery, my phone had dropped to the barn floor. From the depths of the straw, I heard Doc’s voice call out. “Did he make it?” After I gave Doc the affirmative, he replied, “Well, good for him and good for you!” In Doc’s voice I heard the satisfaction and pride those of us who choose to care for animals feel when we get one of those small wins we all live for.

Dr. Lounsbery has since retired, but as with Herriot’s stories, I carry his counsel with me as each day brings new joys and challenges to our little farm.

You can read more about the horses, hogs and hilarity residing at Dalarna Farm on Benson’s blog dalarnafarm.com

James Herriot’s adventures as a veterinarian in 1930s Yorkshire get a glorious new adaptation in Masterpiece All Creatures Great and Small, a seven-part series based on his beloved books. Exciting newcomer Nicholas Ralph makes his television debut as the iconic vet who became renowned for his inspiring humor, compassion and love of life. Samuel West (Mr. Selfridge, On Chesil Beach) plays Siegfried Farnon, the wonderfully eccentric veterinary surgeon and proprietor of Skeldale House, who reluctantly hires the recently qualified Herriot into his rural practice.

See the highly-anticipated new series Sundays at 8pm (7 MT), January 10 – February 21, on SDPB1-TV.

Dalarna Farms ducks enjoying the water.

Heather Benson.