Stephany Wilkes

Author & Sheep Shearer

Sheep

by

The Phenomenal Pora, or Some of What I Learned at Advanced Shearing School

I attended Advanced Shearing School with Australian shearing guru Mike Pora from January 28-30, 2019 in Newell, SD, and thought other shearers might benefit from some of what I learned.

I took this class for a few reasons. First, as shearers are known to say, “If you’re working too hard, you’re working too hard,” and I am working too hard. Second, I wanted to learn more about shearing fine wool sheep, which are rare on the West Coast; I shear mostly crossbreeds, or non-fine wool breeds. Fine wool sheep in the US are found in Nevada, Montana, Wyoming, the Dakotas, etc.

Third, at this stage in my life, I cannot get to Australia for a few months to learn to shear there. Well, technically I could, if I intended to abandon my grandmother with dementia and cancer here in California, but that’s not an option. I figured that if I can’t get to Australia, the Australian was coming to us, and that was the next best, doable thing. (Young and/or unattached shearers, do you hear me? Go learn and work in Australia. See the world! Vamanos, whippersnappers! Fly, my pretties, fly!)

Finally, I often work alone and not on crews with expert shearers who can teach me things. As a result, I develop my own shearing adjustments and bad habits, of both the conscious and unconscious sort. I need eyes and expertise outside of me to help me learn and do better.

And it sure was a good excuse for a vacation with the lady shearers you’ve only met online. We were in a Vogue article together and now we’re friends.

In regard to working less hard, and doing everything we can to ensure we can shear as long as we can, Mike taught us footwork and positions to get the sheep to hold more of its own weight, and to get that weight off of our legs and knees. People think shearing is hell on our backs, and it can be, but my knees, quads, and hamstrings take the brunt of it, because those hold the sheep.

Brisket over teats. Spine behind.

A few things to note in this photo: The sheep is holding its own weight, comfortably shifted onto its right hip (not its tail, which sheep hate). Mike’s left knee is over the back of the sheep’s neck, and the sheep’s spine is behind Mike’s calf.

When standing this way, you can feel the sheep’s spine behind your left leg, their back bone leaning against your leg bone. The difference is that your left leg is not required to hold the sheep and prop it up. Your leg braces and grips the sheep, but does not support it.

After feeling the right way to do this, I realized that I often have the sheep’s spine on the wrong side of my leg, supported by my front shin, with my left knee holding up a substantial portion of the sheep’s weight (no wonder that knee is the crackly sounding one). Altogether, this meant that, while shearing the sheep’s first hip, I was supporting the sheep’s weight with my left knee, while also bending forward in half to reach over to the tail. Not fun, and so much harder than it needs to be.

We learned this lesson in the first hour of the first morning so, very early on, I had already learned something valuable that will make my life substantially easier, and prevent injury, wear, and tear. “This class doesn’t cost enough,” I thought, and I meant it.

But there’s something more going on in this position, too. Notice how the sheep is angled, almost matching the angle of Mike’s foot, which is not straight but pointed outward from his body. Mike is looking down over the sheep’s hip more than its belly. When shearing the belly, crutch, and first hip, many of us are oriented more directly over the sheep’s belly, in a straight line, and not at this angle.

This brings me to another big lesson: crutching when the sheep’s weight is situated more like this, and not just when fully laid back as they can be during belly shearing. It was, initially, a bit mind-bending to look down and see the sheep’s crutch area less open and a bit more tilted, with its rear, left leg resting into the crutch area more than unusual, but crutching was still possible, safe, and made the transition from the crutch into the first hip much easier.

As for getting the sheep to hold more of its own weight… When I learned to shear, I was taught to have my right knee turned in to the right side of the sheep’s brisket when shearing the first hip. This meant my right knee ended up holding the sheep up at the brisket, not just bracing it but preventing it from slumping over to the right side. By copying Mike’s moves, the sheep supported more of its weight, required less of my leg pressure in the brisket and, combined with the sheep’s spine sitting behind my left leg, made for a much easier shearing of the first hip.

But wait, there’s more.

The above photo may look like a typical one of shearing the first hip, but let me tell you about what Mike’s left hand is doing (and does next). Because the sheep is stable and holding a good bit of its own weight, Mike can really pull the skin on that leg juncture and hip right up toward him (not just rolling it toward him, but pulling that hip more up than over). This makes the skin taut on these wrinkly fine wool sheep, for a clean, nick-free hip of nice wide blows.

Another pro tip for this stage of shearing: On your blows up the spine, the bottom teeth should land where the tip of your middle finger on your left hand is. This sounds like I’m telling you to aim for your finger, and I’m not. What I mean to say is: When you’re finishing the left hip, doing those blows from the tail up the spine, and your left hand is pulling and rolling the sheep toward you so that you can reach to and over the sheep’s spine, the fingers of your left hand are pointed at the floor. The imaginary line that would extend from the tip of your left middle finger across the sheep’s back is the depth for which you should reach with the bottom tooth of your comb.

And now, a few words about neck blows. The above is the correct positioning for the neck blows. The sheep’s chin is at a 90-degree angle to it’s neck, a normal position (vs. the sheep’s chin being pulled back, akin to our walking around with our chins high in the air, which is neither normal nor comfortable).

Mike showed us how to pull the skin on the chin up to tighten it (much more comfortable for the sheep and its breathing), and NOT pull the chin itself, as some instructors teach, in the “Pull the chin taut and get through it quickly” school of thought. All shearers know, or should, that the greater the sheep’s comfort, the less it fights, and the easier the shearing is as a result. Shearers have every incentive to keep sheep as happy and comfortable as possible, and this is one more way to do so.

In the neck blow photo above, you can also see how the sheep is supporting more of its own weight. The shearer’s right knee is still behind the right brisket, and both of the sheep’s right legs are behind his (i.e. the shearer’s right leg is where it’s supposed to be, in the crutch between both sets of legs). At this point, shearers are like “Duh, that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

But this is the most difficult footwork position for me, and always has been. This is because I am terrified of cutting the sheep’s neck and shoulder. So my WRONG AND ILL-ADVISED modification has been to push all of that sheep’s weight out in front of me during the neck blows, more akin to the position of shearing the last side. This puts all four of the sheep’s legs in front of my right leg, and all of the weight (on the sheep’s hip in the above photo) bowed out in front, supported–but NOT well controlled–by my right leg and left forearm and hand.

The upshot is that these maneuvers stretch the front shoulder skin out nicely, but that’s about the only benefit of my mangled, ugly dance. I don’t have enough control, the sheep feels like it’s falling forward and about to collapse toward the ground (because it is), and the sheep kicks because all four of its legs are totally free to do so. Joy.

So let’s talk about what we should be doing on a wrinkly, fine-wool neck as taught at this advanced school.

In the photo above, the great Emily Chamelin (AKA Lady Shearer Prime) has the sheep in the correct position, and Mike Pora (left) and Alex Moser (right) are talking about the pressure of comb teeth and the dreaded wrinkle. Fine-wool sheep (Merino, Rambouillet, etc.) have a wrinkle like a wattle, and shearers take great care not to cut it. Mike showed us how, on the first neck blow, you want the comb pressure on the top teeth and, on the second blow, on the bottom teeth. This effectively leaves you shearing each side of the wrinkle and not cutting it. This is a very subtle, nuanced and important technique.

I have been using a neck blow modification that has worked well so far, and that Matt Gilbert taught me especially for wrinkly-neck fine wool sheep. I may continue it even after this class, but will devote time to practicing Pora’s method. Matt’s modification is to turn the sheep’s head to move the wrinkle. You can get an idea of this using your own neck.

Look straight ahead, and turn your level head all the way to the left. The skin on the right side of your neck is smooth, and there’s a wrinkle on your left side. So, you would shear the smooth, right side, where there’s no wrinkle to worry about. When you turn your head to the right, the wrinkle is on your right and your skin is smooth on the left, so you shear the left. This cleans the neck in two wide passes.

Now, let’s talk about the long blows.

Notice how the sheep is on its back more than on its side, and that the sheep’s right shoulder and brisket are against the shearer’s left shin. This creates more control of the sheep. I have not been doing this properly.

I hate to admit that, after six years of shearing (and not enough sheep), I sometimes still turn the handpiece off, walk the sheep into this position, and start up the machine again. The pros spin the sheep around and, as it lands in this place, take the first blow without skipping a beat. Sometimes I do that, just not as often as I’d like.

Mike asked a good question: “Stephany, what does a hay bale do on its end?” “It spins,” I said. And there’s the wisdom. If the sheep is sitting on a small point, and holding enough of its weight, you can basically pivot/spin it down into the long blow position, voila (with an assist from lanolin).

Another lesson I will implement right away is the six-sheep focus technique Mike taught: Pick one improvement to focus on (like a certain footwork position, or maybe the comb pressure on the sides of the neck wrinkle, etc.), focus on that for the next six sheep, pause, evaluate how you’ve done and what you need to fix, and shear the next six sheep.

My self-assigned homework is to find some sheep to walk around with. If I had my own sheep, I would do nothing but walk them through each position with only my legs, hands free, until I got every bit of the footwork right. Shearing jobs don’t lend themselves to this, as the job needs to get done, but I’m thinking of asking some friends to let me walk their sheep around with my legs for a day. This is why we take time for things like school, though: we can practice at school in ways we cannot on a paid job.

I can’t cover everything I learned in just a few days, but I hope this post inspires other shearers to take a course with Mike Pora, the master of nuance and finesse.

And good heavens, it was gloriously beautiful.

by

Shearing Sheep With Years’ Worth of Wool

Folks love stories of so-called Shrek sheep, found God knows where with years’ worth of wool growth (and living proof that sheep do not “just shed” their wool if left alone in nature).But, as a shearer, those stories used to create nothing but dread. “Poor sheep,” I’d shudder to think. “It’s probably wool blind. And imagine what’s hiding in that fleece! Barbed wire, bottle caps, stuff that your shears turn to shrapnel.” No thanks.

It is no accident that the most experienced shearers are called upon to shear Shrek sheep. Years’ worth of heavy wool pulls the sheep’s membrane-thin skin away from its body, making it much easier to cut than usual.
I put off shearing sheep like this for as long as possible. I’d give the job to someone else, avoid them altogether. This approach works until you’re on the job and the next batch of sheep in the pen have 2-5 years’ wool growth. “I’m sorry,” the flock owner says. “I just bought these and they came with all this wool. I get mine sheared every year.”
You’ve got to learn sometime, and this year was it. And, as with most things related to livestock, my fear had blown it entirely out of proportion. I thought I’d share what I’ve learned about shearing sheep with years’ worth of wool growth, and help beginner shearers who end up in this situation for the first time.

A man in bandana and tank top with a complete brown sheep fleece spread out on plywood, on top of hay
My shearing partner, Jordan, displays a completely felted sheep fleece, several years’ worth of wool growth. This is from a small sheep.

Stay calm.

If you take your time, you’ll be fine. Slow down and own it. I make a practice of saying “This is going to take me a while,” both to set expectations and to give myself permission.

Do not discount your rate.

Not even if you’re a beginner. That sheep (and its owner) needs you more than you need the tricky work. It is fair to charge more for sheep in poor condition, which include Shrek sheep. There is a greater risk of cuts and nicks, they require more shearing time, and they use more equipment, in that you have to swap combs and cutters more often than you do for regularly sheared sheep. You’ll go through a cutter every 1-2 sheep, and the same or similar for a comb, vs. getting 2-4 sheep per cutter and 3-7 sheep per comb. These are costs you bear, and you should pay yourself fairly for them.
As a ballpark figure, I would not shear a sheep with multi-year wool growth for less than $10-$15/head, after the ranch call, certainly $12-$15/head for a ram with that kind of growth.

If customers balk, explain that this is because of excess wool growth and that next year, it will cost less. There’s no need to make anyone feel bad for falling behind on shearing. We know how hard it can be to find a shearer, and how few of us there are. Tell them they’re doing the right thing, that things will be better in the future, etc. but also communicate the reality of the situation so no one is surprised. I use very plain language: “I never like to nick a sheep, and I will do my best to avoid that, but here is the situation with the wool…” 

Adapt your technique.

Many years of wool can be very heavy. If a sheep produces a 7-12 pound average fleece every year, and hasn’t been sheared for three years, it is carrying 21-36 pounds of wool. Sheep have very thin skin, so that kind of weight pulls and stretches the skin up as you shear the wool away.
I wish I’d worn a Go Pro or something this year so I could show you what I mean, but I didn’t, so let’s go to Imaginary Shearing Land (via the Mister Rogers trolley).  We’re shearing the neck. You do one stroke, and the wool from that stroke falls over to the side (away from your shears, over the sheep’s shoulder that you’ll shear next). You’ll see the just sheared wool (helped along by gravity) pulling the skin away from the sheep’s body, and lifting the skin right into the way of your shears for the next stroke. If you forge ahead as is, you’ll cut that lifted skin: the just sheared wool is lifting it right between the teeth of your comb. Damn and blast.
I adapt by holding the wool down with my left hand, and shearing with my right. My left hand is at the outermost part of the fleece, putting all of that wool between my hand and the sheep’s body, and between my hand and my sharp, fast, dangerous shears. I hold the wool against the sheep’s body, from the outside, and basically shear underneath it, being very mindful to not cut my hand. I check the sheep’s skin and hand piece position with every stroke and adjust accordingly.
I hope this makes sense. You’ll see what I mean, in any case.

Bring scissors.

Multi-year wool has often felted right on the sheep’s body. This solidified wool makes it difficult to find a safe, clean spot to lay the comb on the sheep’s skin and get started in the proper place, at the proper angle for comb bevel and teeth.
A pair of hand scissors really comes in handy. You can safely and slowly cut wool away by hand, until you’ve created clean purchase for your hand piece. I always feel better and calmer when I’ve set myself and my shears up properly, which gives me the best chance for shearing safely and well.

Bring hand scissors if you don’t already. I can’t say it enough. Add them to your kit. They’re wonderful for safely cutting wool away from the sheep’s face, too.

Use normal equipment, but more of it.

I do not use 9-tooth combs. I’ve sheared sheep with multi-year growth just fine with my usual 13-tooth combs. Indeed, I’d be more leery of using a 9-tooth comb for Shrek sheep, as that lifted skin would fit too easily in the larger space between the teeth. No bueno.

You’ll need more oil, more often, and Kool Lube spray too. After a year or more without shearing, lanolin can dry out, harden, and/or get absorbed by the extra wool. There is less lanolin, literally less oil, to help your shears glide along. This is even worse in cold weather. Your shears may also run hotter than usual, pushing through more wool with more gunk in it. Keep everything well oiled and as cool as possible.

I hope this helps somebody out there. Just take your time, all the time you need.

by

Vogue, Of All Things

If you had told me I’d end up in Vogue, and for sheep shearing no less, I’d have called you a liar. But there it is.

A small group of gray, black, and white sheep munching alfalfa
Vogue: Women of the Wool. Photos by Nich McElroy.

I am so grateful to this esteemed publication for showing where our clothes come from, and for telling the world about the most wonderful people I know, who do things like run into sky-high fires to save sheep, and offer to drive four hours to come get you out of snowstorms in the Sierra, and so much else besides. I love them in a way I can scarcely convey.

How did this happen? I certainly did not call Anna Wintour and say “So I’m shearing some sheep this weekend… You busy?” No, this is what happens when Robert Irwin, of Kaos Sheep Outfit, calls you and says “What are you doing Saturday?” And you say “Shearing sheep.” And he says “What about Sunday?” And you say “I’ll be having my first day off in six months.” And he says “No, I need you to come shear my sheep.” And you say “NO.” And he says “It’s a photo shoot for Vogue!” And you say “Well that’s a new one” and show up to shear, even with a torn scapula, because the man deserves an A for effort plus bonus points for cleverness.

I swear, I thought that man was fibbing until the camera came out. The photo of my feet beside Carrie Butler’s makes me cry, because she’s my shearing sister and we’ve been through the wars together, since day one of shearing school. This is quite a day for my people and our craft. Thank you, Vogue.

by

Humble with Gratitude on National Ag Day

Today is #NationalAgDay. Doing the itty piddly bit of ag work I do has changed my life and my mind about a lot of things during the past four years. It has corrected a lot of my urban, uninformed, mainstream misconceptions.

It is quite an experience to be on the receiving end of those misconceptions, too, what with PETA telling the world that shearing means I skin animals alive. Here are some before and after photos from my Saturday morning shearing that depict reality.

Before:

 

After:

I view the organic label differently now. There are certified organic pesticides that will kill a sheep if ingested and that I don’t recommend for anyone. I have seen sheep suffer for that label, skinny and desperately sick and in need of antibiotics they do not receive. By contrast, I’ve sheared “feed lot” animals that have a much better quality of life than farm animals. Things are just not as simple as the grocery store labels want to make them look.

I know smaller, local meat processing facilities with a dozen or so (deserved and appropriate, believe me) citations from various regulatory agencies, but folks don’t criticize them and save the vitriol for the large processor who does a far better job. They can tell you precisely how long it takes (down to the day or hour) for a certain something to make its way out of a sheep’s system.

I am exhausted by folks who can only conceive of all animals as pets to serve (in most cases) emotional human needs, and do not appreciate the incredible work they do in protection and herding. I am heartbroken when I hear that an uninformed person saw a friend’s herding dog in a truck bed, outside in the rain, and called the police. Never mind that the dog worked all day outside in the rain, is fine, and would hate to be confined indoors. That person literally cannot conceive of a working dog.

I wish banks and health insurance companies were regulated to a fraction of the degree that farms are. A fraction.

I hear a lot about unregulated immigrant labor, but I have yet to witness it. I know the H2-A visa program well, and it is more tightly regulated than you can imagine. I have learned so, so, SO much from the Peruvian shepherds I have met, the living stewards of unbroken generations of a shepherding tradition that this country largely abandoned decades ago. No, there are not Americans to do this work. Ask ag companies how many Americans they go through (10, 15, 20) before they finally give up and get some highly qualifed H2-A workers.

You know how many people go to shearing school and actually want to work as shearers afterward? Not many. You know how many white folks I see working the vineyards during the crush? A handful, maybe two. And that’s when there is plenty of overtime pay and it’s not a bad deal.

I have seen the bias at banks of all sizes, unwilling to lend money to a rural business with a sound, airtight business case but perfectly willing to hand over a jumbo mortgage or a loan for yet another food delivery app.

Because the banks will not loan, money to start rural businesses must come from elsewhere. This new administration has proposed budget cuts of $95 million to USDA Rural Development programs, and cuts of more than $4 billion to USDA Ag programs overall. These cuts would take us back to the 1978 USDA budget, when I was a baby.

The USDA Value-Added Producer Grants (VAPG) program has been critical to the small but promising growth in U.S. wool production and to re-establishing wool textile manufacturing back on our shores. In northern California, funds from this program have helped to support the production of California wool cloth (grown in Modoc County and woven into twill fabric at Huston Textile, a business started by an Iraq veteran), wool batting and bedding, and more. Big brands, small artisans, and home hobbyists are all interested these products and paying premiums for them.

Just when things look promising and have some momentum, and wool producers start to see some benefit, here comes this 1978-level USDA budget. Last year, in 2016 fiscal, the USDA VAPG program had $44 million of grant funds available. This year, it has just $11 million available. I need to know why. I struggle to understand why an Iraq war veteran starting a mill should not receive support from the government he defended.

People often ask me when I am going to get sheep and land of my own. After four years working with livestock and doing some farm sitting (awake all night believing that if there is one night the coyote or mountain lion will come, it will happen the nights that I’m responsible), I usually say “Uh uh. It’s too hard. I’ll stick with shearing. It’s easier.” And it’s not easy.

To everyone who chooses the harder path, day after drought or flooded or wildfire day, thank you. I absolutely bow down to you on #NationalAgDay.