Samantha Matthews: From midwife to sheep farmer
Samantha Matthews: From midwife to sheep farmer
In the heart of the Brecon Beacons, where green hills roll endlessly and mist curls through the valleys, Samantha Matthews is living a life that few could have predicted — not least herself. Once a midwife in a busy English hospital, Samantha now runs a sheep and deer farm, tending to animals rather than newborn babies, and delivering lambs instead of humans.
Her path to farming wasn’t a linear one — and that’s precisely what makes her story so compelling.
From Essex fields to Welsh hills
Samantha’s farming roots run deep, though her journey took her far afield before bringing her back to the land. “I grew up on an arable farm in Essex,” she says. “We had horses and a livery yard. I was your classic Pony Club kid.” Her family’s farm, owned through a trust, was sold in the early 2000s when other members decided to move on. “It wasn’t a sheep farm, but it gave me that foundation.”
After leaving farm life, Samantha’s career took an unexpected turn. She first worked as a veterinary nurse — a job that set the tone for what would become a lifelong affinity for animals. But it was the experience of having her son, following a divorce, that nudged her toward a different calling: midwifery.
“I didn’t want just any job to earn money. I wanted to do something meaningful,” she explains. “Being a midwife appealed to me — the sense of purpose, helping bring life into the world.”
Samantha would go on to work in a high-pressure hospital environment for a decade, drawn to a more holistic approach to childbirth. Yet over time, she found herself yearning for something different. “It became increasingly medicalised and stressful. I began to think seriously about doing something else.”
A modern romance and a return to nature
That turning point came when Samantha met Neil, a deer manager on a Suffolk estate, through a dating app. “Modern romance,” she laughs. Their shared love for animals and land quickly became the basis for something much bigger.
When Neil was faced with redundancy, the pair started talking seriously about starting their own farming venture. “I’d always had that idea at the back of my mind — going back to farming. And lambing season, working with Neil, really sparked something.”
The parallels between midwifery and lambing might not be obvious to everyone, but to Samantha, they were undeniable. “The physiology of birth is the same, whether it’s human or animal. It all felt strangely familiar, but also incredibly rewarding.”
They chose Wales — a decision helped along by Neil’s previous ties to the region. “He’d spent time here in the ’90s, did Young Farmers. We started looking and found our place online.”
The moment they arrived in the Brecon Beacons, the decision felt right. “It was a beautiful sunny day, and the hills were just breathtaking — so different from flat Essex. I knew then that I wanted to stay.”
Trials, tribulations, and tractors
But life on a hill farm is not all idyllic vistas and lambs frolicking in the fields. Samantha is candid about the challenges — many of which she had not anticipated.
“Just about everything sheep do surprised me,” she laughs. “People say they’re on a mission to die — and sometimes they are, in the most inventive ways.” From battling extreme weather like the Beast from the East — where snow drifts reached their kitchen windows — to managing their own water supply and dealing with remote living, the challenges are many.
Health problems added another layer of difficulty. “I developed epilepsy, had an aneurysm, and had to have brain surgery. For a while, I couldn’t drive, which is tough when you live far from shops and help. It was scary knowing that if something happened while Neil was out, I was stuck.”
Despite all this, community has been a lifeline. Samantha has thrown herself into local life, joining the committee for her local agricultural show and forming close bonds with neighbours. “It can be isolating, but we’ve made great connections. And the sheep world is incredibly welcoming.”
Sheep economics and policy pressures
The romantic image of farming belies a tough economic reality, especially for smallholders like Samantha and Neil.
“The cost of feed is ridiculous. And what you get for your sheep at market doesn’t reflect what people pay at supermarkets,” she says. “You don’t do this to get rich. It’s a lifestyle — and it’s a lot of work.”
Changes to agricultural subsidies and tax policy in Wales have also created uncertainty. “We’re not married, so inheritance tax could hit hard if something happened to us. I want to leave everything to my son, who is autistic, but it’s complicated.”
Yet even in the face of bureaucracy and economic strain, Samantha is unwavering in her love for the land. “The quality of life is incredible. During lockdown, we had space, peace, and freedom. That’s something money can’t buy.”
Celebrity farmers and public awareness
Samantha sees value in how mainstream media — notably shows like Clarkson’s Farm — have helped bridge the gap between urban dwellers and rural realities. “Jeremy Clarkson is brilliant, honestly. Yes, he doesn’t have financial worries, but he shows the real frustrations farmers face.”
And it’s not just entertainment — it’s education. “That sheep scene in the first season was heartbreaking. But it opened people’s eyes. I think people have much more respect for what farmers do now.”
The Royal Welsh Show: A celebration of community
One of the most anticipated events in Samantha’s calendar is the Royal Welsh Show, held each summer in Llanelwedd. “I go every year — I love it,” she says. “It’s a big social event, especially for those of us who spend a lot of time isolated on our farms.”
While she hasn’t yet competed at the main show, she did take part in the spring showcase and remains heavily involved with breed societies. “I’m a member of three different sheep breed groups — Shetlands are my favourite. They’re good for conservation grazing, and they have such character.”
She describes the show as more than just a competition. “It’s a shop window — for breeds, for farming methods, for rural culture. People can come and talk to us, learn how animals are raised, and maybe rethink how and where they buy their meat.
Beyond that, it’s a festival of belonging. “When you spend so much time in your own world, these events remind you that you’re part of a bigger community. You cheer for your breed — even if they’re not Premier League material — and swap stories with friends, old and new.”
For Samantha Matthews, the journey from hospital wards to windswept hills hasn’t been easy. But it has been meaningful, hard-won, and deeply rewarding — a life lived not just close to the land, but in step with it.
And come July, like thousands of others, you’ll find her at the Royal Welsh — wandering the sheep lines, chatting with kids and farmers alike, championing her breeds, and reminding everyone that farming is not just an occupation — it’s a way of life.
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