Now that’s Horsepower
A farmer ploughing a field with a team of horses is a beautiful but rare sight. So when a picture of Robert Sampson and his horses at work made the national newspapers, my first reaction was to cheer his eccentricity.
But I was also intrigued. Is he a Luddite or an ecowarrior, I wondered? How does he make ends meet? And could I have a go? So I went to Harbridge Farm, on the edge of the New Forest, to find out.
A stone bridge, meadows and thatched cottages under a leaden sky – it could be the setting of a Thomas Hardy novel. No deafening machinery, just birdsong and honking geese. So far, so idyllic, but I immediately find myself in the midst of a rural drama: some calves have escaped. Terriers yap unhelpfully, arms are waved, and I am roped in to help. This is going to be a hands-on day.
Having rounded up the runaways, we settle down to tea in the kitchen with Robert and his wife, Barbara. Outside, two iron-grey heavy horses stand sleepily by a gate, hitched up for the day’s work. They are Percherons, the French draft breed that’s Sampson’s choice of ‘tractor’.
A handsome 50-something with a timeless, bearded face and furrowed outdoor complexion, Robert tells me that his family have been tenant farmers here on the Somerley Estate since 1882.
‘I have four generations down the churchyard, so I’m almost local,’ he chuckles. Twenty of his 240 acres are arable, the rest is pasture and floodplain. He produces haylage and oats for his livestock – around 50 horses and 20 head of cattle – and sells the surplus. Almost all the farm work is horsepowered.
The obvious question is why? ‘I’ve come to this from my father, and we’ve made it a niche because I’ve got the skills and it’s something I like doing. We never fully mechanised, so what the horses did best, we’ve always done with them: stock feeding, ploughing, harrowing, rolling, fencing.’
He talks knowledgeably about breeding and training horses. When they are two to three years old, he starts their education by lunging them, just as you would with a riding horse, but in harness. In fact, most of his horses are ride-and-drive. They then progress to a sledge, so they get used to the traces, and when they are ready they are paired off with a more experienced horse to learn the trade. Barbara helps during the early stages.
Robert prefers Percherons to one of our native draft breeds because, unlike Shires, they don’t have ‘feathers’, the hairy legs that look stunning in the show ring but are a nightmare in a muddy field. And unlike the stroppy Suffolk Punch, they have an easy-going, biddable temperament. You might think they are built for endurance rather than speed, but this multitasking lot are as happy pulling a plough as a competition vehicle – the Sampsons are regulars at the Route du Poisson relay race in France.
Robert also takes in other people’s horses for training. ‘This side of our business was helped a great deal by Martin Clunes’s TV programme [Heavy Horsepower]. I trained two of his horses.’
So the horses are Robert’s real passion – and his main cash crop. ‘Using them on the farm makes sense, even if it takes two days to do what I could do in an afternoon with a tractor, because it makes a horse that I can then sell at a profit.’ He has cornered the market because many people breed draft horses, but few work them. A fully trained horse fetches £5,400, including VAT. ‘A fifth of that goes to the taxman, which is a bit galling! I should tie one to the railings at No 11.’ Honest and hard-working, a Percheron would put many a politician to shame.
At a time when making a living from farming is tougher than ever, Robert has found that, counter-intuitively, swapping the latest technology for old-fashioned horsepower has given him an edge – and the freedom to do what he loves. As well as growing his own fodder crops, he is also a farrier, as are two of his sons. So he is pretty much self-sufficient. ‘We don’t buy any inputs for the horses. Sales, training, farriery, farming – the whole business works together. We’re never going to get fat on it, but we make it work.’
A strong connection with the land and a livelihood based on traditional skills handed down the generations – this is how people lived a hundred years ago, but Robert is not trying to recreate the past. ‘It’s not a nostalgic thing, I’m always looking forward.’
Paradoxically, this involves regular contact with the Amish, the traditionalist Christian community in America. Robert buys equipment at their annual agricultural show. ‘I use pneumatic tyres and ball bearings. The ironwheeled wagons look nice but they shake your eyes out!’
As the farm is in a conservation area, there are surprising advantages to using horses for some jobs, like haymaking. ‘In a wet year, in the meadows, we use them for hauling the bales out. We can be down to dragging one bale out at a time with a pair and sledge.’ Sounds slow and labour-intensive but, he explains, ‘We have an obligation not to churn it all up; the horses can pull the crop out without damaging the land.’
We head outdoors for winter feeding. Although it’s spring, the pasture has not recovered fully, so the animals need extra rations – we’ll be delivering enormous bales of haylage to various fields. The granite giants waiting outside are four-year-old geldings Kash and Kipling. Standing at around 17 hands, they are broad and muscular, with solid legs, hefty hindquarters and the kindest eyes.
In the driving seat
‘Virtually all the work is done with a hitch cart,’ Robert explains as we inspect the ancient-looking metal contraption with modern tyres. ‘It’s built like a chariot with a draw bar, so if you change implements, you don’t have to hitch the horses again: you just pull the pin and back them on to the next one.’
I hop onto this ‘Amish tractor’, as it is called – and find myself in the driving seat. Robert will be opening gates and unloading feed. ‘OK,’ he says and, right on cue, the horses move off at a purposeful but unhurried pace. This is thrilling – until it dawns on me that I am in charge of nearly two tonnes of Percheron, plus a trailer with its lumbering load.
But I needn’t worry – these boys are so well trained, they respond to the voice and the slightest touch of the reins. Under Robert’s instructions, we negotiate tricky turns and narrow gateways. In the first field, I meet the next generation of horses. Olivia is an inquisitive, adorable filly, black for now but likely to turn grey like her dam – and not at all camera-shy. At this point I absolutely must down tools and mingle. They may be hardy workhorses, but they’re not averse to a cuddle.
In the next paddock we find Axl, a strikingly handsome dapple-grey stallion that has turned his hoof to everything from stud duties and shows to farm work and even hunting. Today he has been rolling in mud, and is more interested in his lunch than in his glossy female field-mate.
Having delivered everyone’s feed, it’s time for Kash and Kipling to get their own. As I hand them armfuls of sweet-smelling haylage, I think of how they’ve helped to grow and transport their food, how nothing is wasted here: their manure will fertilise the fields, an old horseshoe serves as a step for the hitch cart. Self-sufficient and sustainable, there is something thoroughly modern about farming with horses, after all. And they are much better company than a tractor.
For more information: www.sampsonpercherons.co.uk
But I was also intrigued. Is he a Luddite or an ecowarrior, I wondered? How does he make ends meet? And could I have a go? So I went to Harbridge Farm, on the edge of the New Forest, to find out.
A stone bridge, meadows and thatched cottages under a leaden sky – it could be the setting of a Thomas Hardy novel. No deafening machinery, just birdsong and honking geese. So far, so idyllic, but I immediately find myself in the midst of a rural drama: some calves have escaped. Terriers yap unhelpfully, arms are waved, and I am roped in to help. This is going to be a hands-on day.
Having rounded up the runaways, we settle down to tea in the kitchen with Robert and his wife, Barbara. Outside, two iron-grey heavy horses stand sleepily by a gate, hitched up for the day’s work. They are Percherons, the French draft breed that’s Sampson’s choice of ‘tractor’.
A handsome 50-something with a timeless, bearded face and furrowed outdoor complexion, Robert tells me that his family have been tenant farmers here on the Somerley Estate since 1882.
‘I have four generations down the churchyard, so I’m almost local,’ he chuckles. Twenty of his 240 acres are arable, the rest is pasture and floodplain. He produces haylage and oats for his livestock – around 50 horses and 20 head of cattle – and sells the surplus. Almost all the farm work is horsepowered.
The obvious question is why? ‘I’ve come to this from my father, and we’ve made it a niche because I’ve got the skills and it’s something I like doing. We never fully mechanised, so what the horses did best, we’ve always done with them: stock feeding, ploughing, harrowing, rolling, fencing.’
He talks knowledgeably about breeding and training horses. When they are two to three years old, he starts their education by lunging them, just as you would with a riding horse, but in harness. In fact, most of his horses are ride-and-drive. They then progress to a sledge, so they get used to the traces, and when they are ready they are paired off with a more experienced horse to learn the trade. Barbara helps during the early stages.
Robert prefers Percherons to one of our native draft breeds because, unlike Shires, they don’t have ‘feathers’, the hairy legs that look stunning in the show ring but are a nightmare in a muddy field. And unlike the stroppy Suffolk Punch, they have an easy-going, biddable temperament. You might think they are built for endurance rather than speed, but this multitasking lot are as happy pulling a plough as a competition vehicle – the Sampsons are regulars at the Route du Poisson relay race in France.
Robert also takes in other people’s horses for training. ‘This side of our business was helped a great deal by Martin Clunes’s TV programme [Heavy Horsepower]. I trained two of his horses.’
So the horses are Robert’s real passion – and his main cash crop. ‘Using them on the farm makes sense, even if it takes two days to do what I could do in an afternoon with a tractor, because it makes a horse that I can then sell at a profit.’ He has cornered the market because many people breed draft horses, but few work them. A fully trained horse fetches £5,400, including VAT. ‘A fifth of that goes to the taxman, which is a bit galling! I should tie one to the railings at No 11.’ Honest and hard-working, a Percheron would put many a politician to shame.
At a time when making a living from farming is tougher than ever, Robert has found that, counter-intuitively, swapping the latest technology for old-fashioned horsepower has given him an edge – and the freedom to do what he loves. As well as growing his own fodder crops, he is also a farrier, as are two of his sons. So he is pretty much self-sufficient. ‘We don’t buy any inputs for the horses. Sales, training, farriery, farming – the whole business works together. We’re never going to get fat on it, but we make it work.’
A strong connection with the land and a livelihood based on traditional skills handed down the generations – this is how people lived a hundred years ago, but Robert is not trying to recreate the past. ‘It’s not a nostalgic thing, I’m always looking forward.’
Paradoxically, this involves regular contact with the Amish, the traditionalist Christian community in America. Robert buys equipment at their annual agricultural show. ‘I use pneumatic tyres and ball bearings. The ironwheeled wagons look nice but they shake your eyes out!’
As the farm is in a conservation area, there are surprising advantages to using horses for some jobs, like haymaking. ‘In a wet year, in the meadows, we use them for hauling the bales out. We can be down to dragging one bale out at a time with a pair and sledge.’ Sounds slow and labour-intensive but, he explains, ‘We have an obligation not to churn it all up; the horses can pull the crop out without damaging the land.’
We head outdoors for winter feeding. Although it’s spring, the pasture has not recovered fully, so the animals need extra rations – we’ll be delivering enormous bales of haylage to various fields. The granite giants waiting outside are four-year-old geldings Kash and Kipling. Standing at around 17 hands, they are broad and muscular, with solid legs, hefty hindquarters and the kindest eyes.
In the driving seat
‘Virtually all the work is done with a hitch cart,’ Robert explains as we inspect the ancient-looking metal contraption with modern tyres. ‘It’s built like a chariot with a draw bar, so if you change implements, you don’t have to hitch the horses again: you just pull the pin and back them on to the next one.’
I hop onto this ‘Amish tractor’, as it is called – and find myself in the driving seat. Robert will be opening gates and unloading feed. ‘OK,’ he says and, right on cue, the horses move off at a purposeful but unhurried pace. This is thrilling – until it dawns on me that I am in charge of nearly two tonnes of Percheron, plus a trailer with its lumbering load.
But I needn’t worry – these boys are so well trained, they respond to the voice and the slightest touch of the reins. Under Robert’s instructions, we negotiate tricky turns and narrow gateways. In the first field, I meet the next generation of horses. Olivia is an inquisitive, adorable filly, black for now but likely to turn grey like her dam – and not at all camera-shy. At this point I absolutely must down tools and mingle. They may be hardy workhorses, but they’re not averse to a cuddle.
In the next paddock we find Axl, a strikingly handsome dapple-grey stallion that has turned his hoof to everything from stud duties and shows to farm work and even hunting. Today he has been rolling in mud, and is more interested in his lunch than in his glossy female field-mate.
Having delivered everyone’s feed, it’s time for Kash and Kipling to get their own. As I hand them armfuls of sweet-smelling haylage, I think of how they’ve helped to grow and transport their food, how nothing is wasted here: their manure will fertilise the fields, an old horseshoe serves as a step for the hitch cart. Self-sufficient and sustainable, there is something thoroughly modern about farming with horses, after all. And they are much better company than a tractor.
For more information: www.sampsonpercherons.co.uk