“Are you sure you can do this?”
Our goals for Yankee Clippers Shearing were always less rigid than others for our business. Our thoughts were something like shear as much as we can and don’t lose sight of the enjoyable moments. Going into this spring I didn’t know how high to set the bar for myself because I genuinely didn’t know how much I could take. Colin has always been our shearer and I the shepherd. Shearing was a fun aside to me; something to shake up the head shepherd routine. When March shearing started to pick up I was grateful. April was booked in a flash and I was excited then May kept both our schedules filled to the brim and I was overwhelmed. Now into June the workload is backing off less than we expected it would. The farm’s finally challenged me to carve out more time after limping her along all spring and I’ve set aside almost one day per week to stay put. Immediately after typing that my next thought is to defend that decision to all the desperate requests for earlier shearing dates rolling in. Hold on….no, I’m not going to do that. Shearers are not superhuman even though we have been shearing every single day since the last week of March. (Notice the gaps in this “monthly” blogging?) We’re allowed breaks. As worn down as we are, this shearing season has provided us with many special moments. Pushing our limits physically and mentally, being both student and teacher, and finding a new meaning in it all is just some of what was included in the busiest twelve weeks of my life.
When talking to clients of all kinds, it’s clear how alien our work is to anyone who has chosen a more normal career path. More foreign than the physical skill and equipment fluency is what the mental demands are. As self-employed shearers we act as contractor, shearer, and often wool handler all at once. Scheduling begins always and ends never. You frequently hear complaints about shearers not responding in a timely manner and I promise you, there is a reason for that. Keeping ahead of voicemails so your inbox doesn’t fill up becomes an Olympic-level sport for the months of April and May. I found myself most days starting chores by 4 a.m., getting home around 9 p.m., in from the barn by 10:30 and wondering if I maybe possibly could make return calls that late. Texting became the most important tool available to me. Rest stops with good cell service too. Then it’s trying to determine how many stops you can fit in a day, questioning not how quickly you can work but whether or not each client will be completely prepared when you get there. The question, “So how many can you shear in a day?” is asked a few times per week and I can’t give a short answer. It starts with, “At one farm where they know how to help a shearer, I could hit triple digits. But that’s not often the case.” We try to send all our clients to the page on our website called Guide to a Good Shearing Day since even the best shearer can’t outwork poor conditions and uncomfortable sheep. So at this point in the season I find mental exhaustion taking a greater toll than anything my muscles feel. The inner monologue is on a loop in my head all hours of the day. How much time can I spend chasing lose sheep without being late for my next client? Did they get them in last night before the rain? Please be fasted. I hope there aren’t too many with break, with wool rot, or obese body condition scores. I want to make it clear right now that many of our clients do everything mentioned in our guide and more. And others with limited facilities communicate clearly and help us find a solution that works for everyone. If that’s you, we appreciate you more than words can express! But it only takes one bad job to throw your schedule for the whole day off.
It’s taken Colin and I too long to find the confidence enough to explain to someone that we won’t return next year if they can’t provide us with adequate conditions. After we both experienced some close calls due to dangerous work environments, we’re better remembering our worth and appreciating everyone who values our work as well. I know I run the risk of imparting a whiney tone here but it really does all come down to safety, for the shearer and the animals. Okay, onto something more lighthearted.
The work is laborious and days long but amid the exertion is a deep connection to sheep and their shepherds. A diverse education is available each day we are on the job. Lessons range from flock management to how to live a fulfilling life. The demographics we serve include all levels of income, political views, and backgrounds. Just after this spring I feel like I’ve traveled the world and experienced a lifetime thanks to endless personal narratives from the people we work for. How many times clients have brought a tear to my eye or conjured up a good laugh at the end of a job I can’t count. Just as often I find myself stepping into the role of teacher. The basic skills around animal husbandry I picked up from my early years in 4-H I will not take for granted any longer. I have lectures at the ready for proper handling, halter use, flight zones, and flipping. Depending on the time of year we might dive into lambing protocols, vaccination schedules, grazing practices, and record keeping too. And wool! When my excitement level rises I can talk over my machine enough to explain differences in grades, the importance of skirting, why wool prices are the way they are, and the best option for each of your fleeces. Once we get onto that topic the network we’ve weaved of farmers and crafters gets the spotlight. Connecting shepherds with other shepherds and to fiber artists and mills is my favorite perk of the job. An arsenal of first-hand knowledge, phone numbers, and regional maps exists in my head waiting for the next clients who needs to tap into it. I’ll admit my ego has grown some since I’ve found my role expand to networker but there is a deserved pride in bringing together individuals in this industry to mutually benefit from partnership. My minor in agricultural education is certainly being put to use only in a different classroom than expected.
Another question I hear on a regular basis is, “It’s just you?” I might not have given off any hints of confident in my work until recently but I’ve always known I am capable. I would not show up to a job I couldn’t complete. There are several women shearers in this region before me and Colin is not much bigger than me but there’s still a general shock provoked by my solitary 5’2” build when it steps out the truck. I receive this reaction so frequently I almost started to sink into the doubt myself. Nearly every single “Are you sure you can do this?” is eventually followed up, after I did in fact do it, with a flattering remark about the size of my biceps or tone to my shoulders as if my muscles were cloaked by conventional standards until I sweat it off while I work until reaching your aha moment when I do complete the job I said I would. I bet you can hear in my voice how much I let this get to me. I’m not upset with anyone and blame only myself for swallowing such remarks to sit in the pit of my stomach. I’ve perfected my, “Well, it’s more about technique than brute strength,” rebuttal while struggling to decide if their skepticism is valid and what that means about my desire to call myself a shearer. What has finally pulled the sour out of my spirit is the mother who shared with me how much her young daughter looks up to me, not as a shearer but simply as a woman doing a physically demanding job. Then it was the jobs I walked into led by women. With acute awareness I now note all the farms where it is only women working; maneuvering sheep, vaccinating lambs, setting fences, moving equipment, and handing me payment when the work is complete. Some of them are the ones with hesitation in their voices when they greet me but I know good and well why. After wrestling with my feelings about these encounters all spring I’ve found my meaning. I puff out my chest a little and keep my head held high while walking through each barn with the hope that the next woman short in stature who wants to feel her muscles strain and spend her days buried in lanolin doesn’t have to hear that doubt from anyone.
When we moved into the rush of spring shearing, I wasn’t entirely sure of my limits. Nevertheless, I pushed harder as my tallies climbed higher and shearing times shrunk . I still call myself a beginner and probably will for the next three years at least. Still, I’ve practiced balancing my voice as a professional business owner and self-advocate. There is a limit to how much time one should spend defending their own and their client’s animal’s safety. I’ve soaked up a schooling about life from so many wonderful people and figured out how to blaze my own small trail in a still sometimes pigeonholing world. We are lucky to be working and traveling. I’m grateful for my fitness as well as the cold drinks shared with some of you after an honest day’s work in wool. I am sure of how much I can do now but know I’m capable of even more if I just stick to it.
Cheers,
Siri