Which is not to say there’s no conflict in the show. It’s just that the conflict arises from clashes in personality that give viewers reasons to share a good-natured chuckle rather than feel superior. 

Take young James, for instance. He arrives in the tiny town of Darrowby fresh out of an urban Glasgow veterinary school. His tidy tweed suit and carefully laced Oxford shoes are no match for the lush, rolling dales of Yorkshire, which, beautiful as they may be in a panorama, can get fairly mucky close up. His timid city manners are no match for the earthy, idiosyncratic British characters he meets on the local farms—especially his cantankerous employer, senior vet Siegfried Farnon, who chomps at his pipe and barks out orders more fiercely than any of his canine clients.

As James makes mistakes and learns his trade, he and the locals argue but still come together at the end of the day for a pint in the pub. There’s no question of anyone in this community excommunicating another. James even manages a friendly relationship with his rival for a local farm girl’s affections. When differences do grow more serious, the locals encourage each other to look beneath the surface to find the best in their fellow man. No one here is dismissed as a “garbage person,” to use that odious Twitter term.

Funny as the show often is, James, Siegfried, and the other inhabitants of Darrowby left me wishing the majority of Americans still gathered regularly in a place like the pub or, even better, the local church after a hard week. A place where we’re forced to reconcile our differences and exorcise our animosities face to face. 

All Creatures Great and Small doesn’t boast the addictive quality needed to earn that highest term of honor critics throw around today—­“bingeable.” Rather, it’s more like a nourishing soup, seasoned with the wisdom of 1 Thessalonians 4:11: “Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life.”