All Creatures Great & Small

Hello, Mr Herriot.

Hello, Tom. Good of you to help out the Dalbys like this.

They've always been good friends of my grandparents.

Mrs Dalby's up in t' field. I'll take you.

Thanks, Tom.

Morning, Mr Herriot.

Thanks for coming out to see us.

And thank you for being there yesterday.

Billy was a good man.

I wanted to pay my respects.

Their breathing don't sound right, Mr Herriot.

They were really fit when they turned out earlier this month.

Then, well...

Let's have a look, then, shall we?

The stirks have got husk, I'm afraid.

For an older cow this may not be our problem

but as they are still so young...

Aye, and what is husk, exactly?

Well, it's a parasite.

A tiny worm which infests the bronchial tubes

and sets up bronchitis.

The larvae climb up the blades of grass

and the cattle eat them as they graze.

Some pastures are badly affected with it.

I'm sorry but they're pretty bad, Mrs Dalby.

A mild attack isn't so bad

if you can get them off the grass right away

but this has gone a long way beyond that.

What can we do about it, Mr Herriot?

For a start, we can get them all inside immediately.

Every mouthful of this grass is adding to the worm burden.

Right you are, Mr Herriot.

Can I... tempt you with the last egg, Mrs H?

No thanks.

Seems a shame to waste it.

I thought you'd be joining your friends

down in London for the cricket.

Yes, I thought so too

but unfortunately tickets require money and money requires wages,

neither of which I possess.

So instead, my plan is three uninterrupted days

with my feet up, the radio on and a lovely, cool glass of...

Well, it took all of five hours

but Gladys produced a whopping 18 piglets.

Darrowby record, I believe.

Smells like one, too.

They need cleaning. Get them off.

Any chance of some breakfast?

I can make you a bacon sandwich. And those.

Think I've had enough pig for one day. Got any eggs?

You can have the rest of this one if you like.

So I'm out working my trousers off

while you're lazing around stuffing your face with my hard-earned eggs?

Such is life, big brother. Such is life.

Go and get changed. I'll make you some toast.

You really didn't need to go to all this trouble. Nonsense.

I hope that tea isn't too strong for you. It's perfect.

Thank you, Mrs Dalby.

I'll be back up tomorrow to check on the stirks.

Meanwhile, it's very important that you keep them inside.

Oh. But they'll need feeding.

Well, at this point,

I would start by giving them the best possible food -

good hay and high-protein cake.

Cake?

That's expensive stuff, isn't it?

And if we give them the hay now, we'll need to buy more for winter.

I know but a good diet is our best hope at this stage.

And they can't go out to feed on the grass ever?

No. I'm sorry, not on those fields.

If it was a mild attack, you could have turned them out

after the dew had left in the mornings

but that's not the case here.

Right.

Well, thank you, Mr Herriot. We know where we are anyway.

Billy, love, why don't you take your brother outside for a kickaround?

Have we got a young Gordon Hodgson in the making?

He's my favourite player.

Good choice.

Go on, Billy, love.

Oi, you.

Excuse me.

Come on.

So cheeky.

Do you think we can save them?

Well... we can always hope.

Funny.

That's what my Billy always used to say.

He was ever the optimist.

Even when the doctor said it was cancer,

Billy still insisted he'd be fine.

Time is so fleeting, Mr Herriot.

Any other calls come in?

Nothing.

Shame.

I guess we will be taking a day off. Not so fast.

Equipment needs polishing. Done.

Well, then, the medicines need topping up. Done.

All done. Play starts in five minutes, Mrs H.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What about the...?

What's wrong with Tristan enjoying the cricket?

He spent all last night polishing and topping things up.

There's always more to be done.

Lambing season's almost over.

Summer's our quietest time of year.

Surely the lad's earned a day or two off now.

Earned?

Well, now he's passed his exams and all.

Oh!

James, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there.

I've probably had worse flung at me.

I wanted to drop in and see how you were after yesterday.

Oh, I'm all right, thanks.

It's Phyllis we're worried about.

I was just over there now.

Her stirks have got husk.

Oh, on top of everything else.

We offered to help her out with the kids

but she's determined she can manage.

Our Jenny was around the same age as Billy when my mam died.

All the things that family never got to do together.

Now they never will.

Must have brought back a lot of painful memories.

Life's cruel sometimes.

Be seeing you again soon? I hope so.

What are you doing tomorrow night?

Going out with you by the sounds of it.

I could pick you up at seven?

I'd like that.

Thank you.

What on earth?

Tristan, just the man.

Help me carry these out to the barn.

What's going on? You'll see.

Now, one cannot be a great vet

until one has reared one's own animals.

Funny, never heard that one before. Mm-hm.

So here you are, Tristan.

Meet your new brood.

Wait, what?

May I suggest you make a start building a nest box for them?

A nest box? Nothing like a fresh egg, warm from the nest.

Hang on, how come James never had to rear his own animals?

This better not be a flock of sheep.

Is Uncle Herriot here?

No, Uncle... Mr Herriot is not here, I'm afraid.

As I'm sure you're aware, Mrs Pumphrey is attending

the Test match in London and I am under strict instruction

to deposit Tricki Woo into his guardianship for the duration.

I'm sure Mr Farnon can provide temporary guardianship

until Uncle Herriot returns.

Most kind.

Now the evening sun sends long shadows over the gasometers,

Hutton has reached 150

and, with Leyland by his side, looks like going on to 1,000.

Oh, thought you were Siegfried.

Since when do we have hens?

Since my big brother decided I need to rear my own animals.

What for? Exactly.

I thought now that I'm a fully qualified vet

he'd finally stop hectoring me.

Perhaps he just doesn't know how to yet.

I don't know.

Doesn't seem to matter what I do, it's never enough.

Then why don't you try standing up to him?

Worked for me.

You make it sound easy.

Perhaps it is.

Have you met my brother?

What is this supposed to be?

A nest box?

Give it here.

How was your visit to the Dalbys?

It's not looking good.

Oh, dear.

This is Maggie, by the way.

Say hello, Maggie.

And, oh, look, this one here is Brenda.

Let me guess - they're all named after your ex-girlfriends.

No, not at all.

Here she is.

This is Helen, especially for you, James.

Who knows? This one might even let you take her out.

I'll have you know that Helen and I

are going out on a date tomorrow night.

James! That's fantastic... Sorry... news!

And where are you taking the lovely Helen?

Probably just the Drovers.

The Drovers?

Look, tomorrow is your big chance to finally impress Helen.

You should take her to the Renniston.

Trust me, women like to be wined and dined.

Seems a bit grand.

Can't you see it, Jim?

The music oozing out of Benny Thornton's trombone

and you full of champagne, and Helen leaning across the table,

the look of love in her eyes.

Oh, kiss me, Helen.

Oh, OK.

Maybe.