For many people, Maurice Vellacott's Exmoor farm would be half way to Paradise.

The heather-covered moor, the patchwork of green fields, the sun-dappled Devon countryside stretching to the distant horizon -- it looks like a traditional picture of rural content.

For Mr Vellacott, though, his farm spells one thing -- financial disaster.

"We are going to lose £8,000 this year", he says. He has been in farming all his life, like his father and grandfather before him, and he has never known things so bad.

Maurice Vellacott, his wife and their three children have lived here for fourteen years. But he does not know how much longer they will be able to stay.

Earlier this month Mr Vellacott achieved national fame, of a sort. He shot ten of his sheep.

Mr Vellacott : "Today, I would have to sell a granny for less than ¿10"

"They were what we call 'granny' ewes", he says. "They were the oldest animals in the herd -- about five or six years old".

A year ago a granny would have fetched about £22.50 at market -- a price which would keep farmers like Maurice Vellacott in business.

"Today, I would have to sell a granny for less than £10", he says.

"She might fetch nothing at all. The animals are not good for very much by then -- processing, perhaps, pet food, or export".

"So I shot them. If I hadn't, they might well have died on the farm anyway, they were deteriorating so fast".

The autumn grass has little goodness, and it is hard work for the grannies, whose teeth are beginning to give way, to compete with younger animals in finding food.

"I was sad to shoot them", says Mr Vellacott. "Farmers do not usually shoot their animals, and the only stock I had killed before were sick and injured beasts".

"But a few more will have to go. I will put the grannies on the best grass I have, but I expect to have to shoot another ten or so".

He excavated a deep hole on the farm with a mechanical digger and buried the ewes with a cow which had died.

The knackermen who used to remove dead animals now charge £2 to take a carcass away for incineration. And the BSE scare means that even the local hunts do not want farm casualties.

Maurice Vellacott has 700 sheep and 140 cattle on his farm. He owns 200 acres and rents 300 more.

He says he can sell his fat lambs at market for about £30. The supermarkets charge about £120 for the meat once it has been slaughtered and butchered, he says.

Anger over depression

Ask Mr Vellacott if he is depressed, and the answer is robust.

"I am not depressed", he says. "I am angry".

He is angry with politicians, "people that are paid big money to inflict unnecessary bureaucracy and legislation on us".

He believes that British politicians have reached a secret agreement to drive nearly 40% of farmers off the land.

Maurice Vellacott is angry with environmentalists. "Are we going to be able to live on indigenous species and fancy butterflies when farming is ruined and the food runs out ?", he asks.

And he is very angry with Brussels. "We should be looking at the possibility of coming out of the European Union", he says. "It is going to drain us dry".

Maurice Vellacott is going to give up the 300 acres he rents, and do what he can on the land he owns. But he is not sure even that will keep him in business.

"If selling my surplus stock does not pay off a lot of my borrowing", he says, "I shall then be forced to sell my farm".

Most of his neighbours feel as he does. "Few of them see any good future in farming", he says.

But he will not lie down quietly and accept the inevitable. He is fierce in defence of the only way of life he has ever known.

Is he a crusader ? Maurice Vellacott thinks for a moment, then replies: "Yes, a crusader -- to try to slow the demise of the British farmer".