To hell 'n' back for the shear love of it
Damian McCarney
The placid sheep munching on the lush grass at Garadice House farm on the outskirts of Newtowngore had no inkling of what lay ahead of them. Soon this batch of George Best’s livestock - yip, his father was a Man-U fan - would be led into an uber-modern sheep barn where they would be cajoled through a narrow pen and onto the open platform of a mobile shearing unit.
From there they’d have a 50-50 chance of being grappled between the thighs of a burly Bawnboy-man, or gently half-nelsoned in the bear-like biceps of a Kiwi. Either way, within 90-buzz-filled seconds the sheep will be sporting a skin-tight thuggish grade zero. Each cut starts with the shearer waltzing the sheep backwards onto the wooden platform and ends with the sheep being released through the shearer’s legs with a good natured slap on its freshly exposed ass, and it bucks off, onto the moist sawdust two feet below sending up the acrid stench of urine. Gliding their electric shearing handpieces through the woollen coats, Robert Kells and Axle Reid ease off the fleeces, each stroke like a master-carpenter sliding a plane over the softest timber. A wash of sweat falls from their faces, grim with concentration. While the expert hand makes this deft skill appear easy, it’s back-breaking work. The sheep being shorn of the 15-tog duvet on their backs appear bemused or relieved. On a muggy day like last Thursday, it was little wonder they just lay back and let it happen, while George Best was on the wing, bundling the discarded wool into out-sized bags.
Not one sheep put up a fight while the Celt watched; apparently that’s not a given though.
'I’ve heard of one guy, he had a sheep nibble his armpit hairs,' recalls Axle, suppressing a laugh. 'He reckoned that was one of the most painful experiences of his life.'
Hardly dicing with death. However Axle claims he was once properly bitten by a sheep: 'Didn’t break the flesh or anything - it’s not like a dog bite, but it certainly gives you a heck of a fright when they do it,' he says miming with a jolt to the leg. This area isn’t renowned for its sheep farming, but that is slowly changing. While it may have the smallest sheep population in the Republic, Cavan boasts the fastest growing sheep population of any county. It’s good news for Robert, who supplements his mainstay of buying in store lambs to fatten over the winter, with this seasonal work. Robert took up shearing back in 2002 when he set himself a challenge after coming through a life-saving operation to remove a cancerous growth on his face.
'They [surgeons] cut me all down here,' the 33-year-old says, brushing aside his brown mop-top to reveal the pale seam of a scar running from his right temple down the length of his face, along his neck, and into the pool of his collarbone. Surgery left Robert with a prosthetic ear, and was followed by seven weeks of radiotherapy.
'Lucky to be alive,' he says matter of factly.
'So I reckon if I’ve come through that I’ll come through anything, isn’t that right George?'
George, one of Robert’s best customers, nods sagely.
'I took a crazy notion of shearing my own sheep one year,' continues Robert. 'It was a struggle; probably without any instruction. I went through two months of hell shearing them, and when I had them done I was as proud as punch.'
Figuring that there must be an easier way to remove the fleeces of his 1200 sheep than a return ticket to hell, he admits to acting on another crazy notion:
'That’s it! I was going to New Zealand.'
New Zealand’s shearing reputation persuaded Robert it was the place to up his technique through courses. He’s since returned twice for six to eight week spells.
'The best shearers in the world I reckon are from New Zealand - they have the rugby and shearing pretty much mastered.'
It was there Robert bumped into the instantly likeable Axle. His family back in the north island town of Taihape are mostly employed in the agri-sector, yet none of them has ever owned a farm. Harbouring the aim to become the first Reid to change that, Axle travels the world shearing.
'I hope if I shear enough sheep I’ll be able to buy my own farm in New Zealand some day,' he says.
The passion they have for shearing however outweighs any financial reward.
'You have to like it or you wouldn’t do it. If you were doing this just thinking about the money you would never do it - there’s easier ways of making money, George will tell you,' says Robert with a grin.
George tells us if there’s money to be made, it’s not in selling wool. His main work with sheep is manufacturing and selling equipment all over Ireland and the UK. When it comes to wool, he gets enough to cover the cost of hiring the shearers 'and a wee bit more'. He expects to get about €1.30/kg of wool, which is up from a low of less than a Euro per kilo about five years ago.
Axle’s stint teaming up with Robert has run from early May and is likely to last for a few more frantic weeks yet.
'Very busy,' Robert replies when asked how work’s going, 'but everyone wants you the one time. I expect another two weeks, we should be all red up.'
He insists that the frequent downpours interrupting plans are the worst drawback for Irish shearers.
'You can’t shear sheep when they’re wet so you’re like a doctor on call nearly. You’re trying to organise work and it’s very hard when the weather’s against you. It’s a great job when the weather’s in your favour.'
Swinging their legs off the side of the mobile rig, the lads, each wearing the de rigueur shearers’ singlet and soft Moccasins (think shoes a native American might wear), they stress that quality of shearing is paramount. The trick is to minimise nicks and ensure there’s no wool left on the animals. Only a few droplets of blood, and barely enough wool to tip an earbud could be seen on the newly naked sheep, at the far end of George’s barn. The lads give assurance the herd won’t feel the nip in the air when they’re released back into the fields:
'Sheep are actually quite amazing animals because after they’ve been shorn, their skin actually doubles in thickness within 24 hours of being shorn,' enthuses Axle.
Axle hopes that next year he’ll have an additional reason to come to Ireland. In May 2014, the crowds will flock to Gorey, County Wexford, for the World Sheep Shearing Championships.
'I’m hoping to get to that, but I’ve got to make the New Zealand team first,' he explains. 'It’s very tough because you’ve got the likes of David Fagan, John Kirkpatrick, Roland Smith, guys with world records.' The star names within the New Zealand sheep-shearing industry roll off his tongue.
'So basically I’ve got to win either the Golden Shears in Masterton or the National Championships up in Te Kuiti to get on the team,' he says.
Modest Axle fails to add, that according to the Shearing Sports website he’s ranked an impressive 28th in the open category of the New Zealand league.
Robert, who competes in the seniors - the grade below open - hopes to make the Irish team, and assures the Celt that we have some decent competitors. Ivan Scott for example holds the world record for shearing lambs in eight hours - a ridiculous 744.
'The only man in the northern hemisphere to have a world record,' Robert proudly notes.
While they won’t be setting any records today, Robert and Axle aim to shear George’s 350 texel and suffolk cross ewes in around four hours. As far as speed goes, George is more than happy.
'I only contacted him two days ago and he’s here today.'