Have shears will travel

For youngsters looking for a job offering variety and travel, sheep shearing may not be the first occupation to spring to mind, but arriving at Alex Gould’s cottage in the very early morning, I am struck by the passion that he and his team have for this ancient farming skill. 

‘It’s hard work and virtually all travelling shearers are young,’ he explains. ‘But you develop a kind of love hate relationship with the sheep - you’ll never find a shearer who’s indifferent to it.’  He gives me a rundown of the day’s agenda and introduces me to Tracey, a Falkland Islander who is the team’s ‘rousie’ – she rolls and bags the fleeces.  We then follow the screech of a grinding wheel to an outhouse where Dingo, an Australian shearer is sharpening dozens of shiny blades for the clippers.

Soon we are in a 4 wheel drive with shearing trailer hitched behind and off to a farm near Gillingham, Dorset.   The plan is to shear 400 sheep of various breeds at three different locations.  First stop is a flat and wide windswept field where we meet the farmer Nick, and a motley flock of 150.  As the team set up the shearing equipment, Nick explains that in the past he would have sheared the sheep alone but it is no longer economical to do so.

‘These boys know what they’re doing and will shear the lot in just one day,’ he says. ‘The wool will be bagged and off to the wool board and I’ll be back getting the lambs ready for market.’  In the UK, sheep are raised for their meat; wool is a by-product and although the cost of shearing is covered by its sale, there is very little profit. 

The trailer’s wheels are removed and it transforms into a sheep pen.  Tackle for the electric shears as well as an electrical generator are attached with wooden boards laid on the grass to provide an even shearing surface.

The sheep have been penned overnight to ensure they don’t have a full stomach which can be literally fatal while being man-handled during shearing.  The ewes are led through a corridor of hurdles into the shearing pen with their plump lambs sidelined into the open field.  Alex and Dingo have put on unheeled slippers, knee and back straps to avoid muscle strain while Tracey has hooked up an enormous sack to store the fleeces.

By 8.00 am the filthy, heavy and gruelling task of shearing is underway.  Each animal, weighing between 80 - 120 kilos, is dragged out of the pen, thrown onto its back and shorn in a few short minutes.   Depending on the breed, the fleece varies in weight and size but as it is removed, the beautifully clean and creamy under wool is exposed in contrast to its dirty outer coat.  Tracey bends to gather the fleece, removes lumps of sheep droppings, and rolls it into a bundle.  It is strikingly soft and moist from the natural lanolin and if not for the strong odour, I would be tempted to rub it over my face.

Each time Alex or Dingo enter the pen for another animal they flick a counter to keep a tally of how many animals are shorn – rams count for a double click as they are heavier and kick more violently.  This is arduous physical work, worthy of its testosterone-fuelled reputation.  The speed of the shearing is impressive and Tracey is continually bending down to collect the fleeces; she soon builds up a grimy patina on her fore arms from the tainted lanolin.  After a couple of hours’ hard graft the field is populated with newly shorn sheep together with their lambs.  Once rid of their ragged coats, these matronly ewes with skin resembling that of a plucked turkey, jump high into the air with all four feet off the ground, gambolling much as their offspring do in the early summer sunshine.  No time is lost in packing up the trailer for the team to follow the farmer to the other side of the village and another pen of sheep. 

I suggest to Alex that shearing is tough, demanding and repetitive but he assures me that it is also rewarding.  Alex has been shearing for five years and organising teams for the last two.  A second team of Australians will be working within the next week and kept busy until mid summer when most of the shearers will head home.

Both Dingo and Tracey were brought up on sheep farms and feel the trade as part of their identity although Dingo admits that the money is important too.

            ‘Most Australians working here already have farms but can earn a lot of money in a couple of months when it’s quiet at home.’   Although shearers may earn decent money (upwards of £100 a day) rousies earn a lot less and Tracey is attracted by the friendly atmosphere and travel opportunities.  It is common for shearers to work across Europe before continuing to the US and then down to the Antipodes.  They live and work together in a close-knit and supportive community obtaining work contracts through word of mouth.

            By mid-afternoon, the job is over and I am exhausted despite having done no more than move a few hurdles.  I realise how this traditional skill has endured over the centuries; apart from electrification and the transglobal touch – the physical relationship between man and animal has remained the same.

© Judith Cameron