I don't remember how it came up but the invitation was made and I accepted.
I got up before dawn so I could pile in the truck with a quiet man ironically named "Rowdy" and three Maori women. We were going sheep shearing.
There were four shearers all using non-electric shears. I was fascinated to see how quickly they worked. A ewe was seized, held between the legs of the shearer and quickly liberated of its woolly top coat.
At first I stood in the corner like a gawking tourist but eventually the women showed me how to pull off the soiled bits of wool and throw them into a bin. They were very patient with me (which is good because I was intimidated by the process). I eventually started sweeping up the wool that fell below the inspection table.
Finally, the ranch owner gave me a sort of staff and showed me how to herd the sheep into the holding pens for the shearers. This was my favorite part as it involved bossing fluffy animals around. Some of them were quite feisty however and one of them scraped me in the leg with her horn. I wanted it to leave a scar so I could tell people about a near death encounter with a crazed Merino, but it was barely a flesh wound. Sigh.
One of the shearers grabbed my leg and yelled "Roar!" I was so startled that I jumped and he laughed. He enjoyed his little joke so much that he repeated it several times with varying results. I knew I wasn't working with some rare breed of vampire sheep but I was so distracted by counting how many were in each pen that I jumped every time he got me. At one point he dropped his lighter down the sheep chute and told me to go get it. I said it wasn't in my contract and he could go get it himself. He grinned as he slid down the chute after it. He was my favorite shearer.
The best time of the day was when we broke for lunch and I had a delicious soup that the ranch owner's mother had prepared. I had toast and tea and it warmed me up against the winter chill.
So that's what an honest day's work feels like! When I closed my eyes to sleep that night I saw a sea of wool and beady eyes gazing at me steadily.
In the Auckland airport the next day there were stores dedicated to selling the fine wool of the Merino. I felt the urge to run from them screaming "Noooooo!"
I wondered if I might drift off into sleep on the plane and have some fevered twitching nightmare in which I woke combating an invisible woolly menace and muttering "Sheep! Sheep, everywhere..."
I felt invigorated after this experience but I will definitely be crossing "sheep shearer" off my career list.
I got up before dawn so I could pile in the truck with a quiet man ironically named "Rowdy" and three Maori women. We were going sheep shearing.
There were four shearers all using non-electric shears. I was fascinated to see how quickly they worked. A ewe was seized, held between the legs of the shearer and quickly liberated of its woolly top coat.
At first I stood in the corner like a gawking tourist but eventually the women showed me how to pull off the soiled bits of wool and throw them into a bin. They were very patient with me (which is good because I was intimidated by the process). I eventually started sweeping up the wool that fell below the inspection table.
Finally, the ranch owner gave me a sort of staff and showed me how to herd the sheep into the holding pens for the shearers. This was my favorite part as it involved bossing fluffy animals around. Some of them were quite feisty however and one of them scraped me in the leg with her horn. I wanted it to leave a scar so I could tell people about a near death encounter with a crazed Merino, but it was barely a flesh wound. Sigh.
One of the shearers grabbed my leg and yelled "Roar!" I was so startled that I jumped and he laughed. He enjoyed his little joke so much that he repeated it several times with varying results. I knew I wasn't working with some rare breed of vampire sheep but I was so distracted by counting how many were in each pen that I jumped every time he got me. At one point he dropped his lighter down the sheep chute and told me to go get it. I said it wasn't in my contract and he could go get it himself. He grinned as he slid down the chute after it. He was my favorite shearer.
The best time of the day was when we broke for lunch and I had a delicious soup that the ranch owner's mother had prepared. I had toast and tea and it warmed me up against the winter chill.
So that's what an honest day's work feels like! When I closed my eyes to sleep that night I saw a sea of wool and beady eyes gazing at me steadily.
In the Auckland airport the next day there were stores dedicated to selling the fine wool of the Merino. I felt the urge to run from them screaming "Noooooo!"
I wondered if I might drift off into sleep on the plane and have some fevered twitching nightmare in which I woke combating an invisible woolly menace and muttering "Sheep! Sheep, everywhere..."
I felt invigorated after this experience but I will definitely be crossing "sheep shearer" off my career list.
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