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Small Livestock
Diary of a Shearing School Student: Part I
by Diane Wells
January 11. I e-mailed Chet Parsons, livestock specialist with the University of Vermont Extension, and asked him if any shearing schools are planned for this spring. He responded and there are two one-day schools: April 10 at the Windham Foundation in Grafton and April 24 at Shelburne Farms in Shelburne. He attached a registration form. I think I’m going to do it.
January 27. I filled out the form and signed up for the school at Shelburne Farms. Also put a check for $125 in the envelope. That pays for the lecture, one-on-one instruction, and a shearing handbook and video. I could pay $50 and just observe, but I’ll only learn by doing, so $125 it is. Now I’m committed.
April 5. A hefty envelope from UVM Extension appeared in the mailbox this afternoon. Inside, a welcome letter from Mr. Parsons talks about how important it is to practice the shearing sequence beforehand. There is a pattern to shearing, and the eight pages of shearing diagrams in the mailing attest to it. This smells like homework and school hasn’t even started. There’s also a copy of the music and words to Ryebuck Shearer, the “official” shearing school song. Who IS this guy?
April 9. Practice shearing sequence tomorrow.
April 16. Must practice shearing sequence!
April 23. It’s the night before shearing school and I haven’t practiced the shearing sequence. Too much time spent on sugaring and not enough on shearing. I have gone over the diagrams, and that will have to do. Won’t be the brightest crayon in the box tomorrow, but I’ll get by.
April 24. By 5:30 a.m., I was headed west. At 8:30 a.m., I pulled into Shelburne Farms, parked and headed towards the sound of blatting sheep. Found Mr. Parsons and others setting up for the day. Before long, everyone had arrived, and eight hands-on shearing students were registered.
At 9:15 a.m., Mr. Parsons introduced himself, the other shearing instructors—Jim McRae, Pam Smith, Liz Willis and Craig Marcotte—and Sam Smith,
Shelburne Farms’ flock manager. Then he talked about electric shearing equipment and the importance of prepping and caring for the sheep: making sure they hadn’t eaten 24 hours prior to shearing, making sure they weren’t overstressed during shearing and making sure sensitive areas—teats, milk veins, genitals, hamstrings and ears—weren’t nicked by the shears.
Warm-up exercises started at 9:45 a.m. We swung our arms, rotated our shoulders, and stretched our hamstrings and backs. Much of it was on the floor amidst wandering hens and one overly curious goat.
At 10 a.m., Pam Smith performed the first shearing demo. A ewe was snagged from the pen, led to the sheet of plywood Pam stood on and put into a sitting position. We watched the shears and listened to Pam as she led us, blow by blow (a blow is a stroke of the shears), down the brisket and belly, around the udder, to the vulva and inside the back legs. As she continued to work her way around the ewe, Pam talked about how important it is to avoid making second cuts (it reduces wool quality) and to not pull on the wool with your free hand (you’ll just end up nicking the skin).
Once the demo was over, it was time to shear. I looked at my ewe as she was led to my sheet of plywood. She looked everywhere but at me. I took a deep breath, wrestled her onto her rump and turned on the shears. What followed for the next 20 minutes was not particularly pretty. I kept focusing on the shearing pattern and losing track of my footing. Before I knew it, one or more hooves gained some ground and she had the advantage. I then had to get her back into position and under control. Meanwhile, I’m a leftie, but somehow I couldn’t get used to shearing with my left hand and kept switching to the right. I also didn’t ride the shears close enough to the skin and had to make numerous second cuts. The shearing cord was wrapped around my shoulders, my neck. The adrenalin was flowing. Liz Willis, the only left-handed instructor, did her best to keep me on track. The wool was sticky with lanolin, and the shears were getting bogged down. Shelburne Farms visitors, young children and their parents, were watching from the doorway. I pulled on the wool with my free hand and, sure enough, I nicked the skin. After making the final blow, I turned the shears off and stood up. I had nicked her in several places, including one of her ears. With a slow exhale, I turned to Liz and shook my head as she did her best to reassure me.
For the next hour, I walked around, observed what others were doing and realized I was not alone in my struggles. This was tough work and not something to be mastered in a day. Some students were faring better than others, particularly Leslie White, a part-time farrier. She was an experienced animal handler and it showed. By the end of the day, most of us had shorn two or three sheep, but Leslie had shorn five and done well with every one.
After lunch and another shearing demo performed by Mr. Parsons, I was feeling confident. I snagged a ewe and led her to a vacant sheet of plywood and shears. I started out strong, but faltered once I had to change my footing. This is why Mr. Parsons wanted us to learn the shearing sequence before class. I hadn’t completed my homework and it showed. McRae sauntered over and led me to the finish line. This time it took 15 minutes and there weren’t any nicks. Progress.
By 3 p.m., nearly all of the 60 ewes had been shorn. I decided to wholly commit to this project and purchased a set of Shearmaster shears from Dan Korngiebel, shearing-school bystander and owner of The Yarn Farm in Cuttingsville, Vt.
If you stick around for next month’s issue, I’ll fill you in on Part II of the shearing school saga.
The author, a frequent contributor to Farming, is a biologist who lives and farms in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. Comment or question? Visit www.farmingforumsite.com and join in the discussions.
