A "Wee" Mob of Sheep

Mike and I have been in awe of the landscape in New Zealand ever since we left Christchurch after the earthquake. As we traveled our way south to Queenstown, we passed rolling green hills and towering craggy mountains with green slopes. All had a gentle dusting of white sheep on the slopes. Some sheep were recently sheared so that they look skinny and naked. Others were fluffy with curly wool and still others have so much wool that their little legs and faces stuck out from a round ball of fluff. The sheep were everywhere – field after field of them. It had the most peaceful feel – the white dots against the green fields. They were simply captivating. So much so that I wished to learn more about the sheep and this industry that is so important to New Zealand.

We stopped by the Queenstown tourist office to inquire. The tourist office is swimming in activity brochures. There’s rafting, jet boating, bungee jumping, hiking, mountain biking, hand gliding, parasailing, and more. The staff seemed a bit perplexed with an inquiry about sheep shearing. They only knew of one place – in Glenorchy – just up the road. There was no colorful brochure; just a phone number.

The man on the phone told me that he runs a morning and afternoon “tour.” He still had room on the morning tour so all we had to do was drive up the lake to the village (250 population) of Glenorchy and meet him at 10AM. How do we find the meeting place, we inquired. Well, he explained, Glenorchy is very small. Turn left at the roundabout and there will be a “wee shed” on the right. He’d meet us there. There was, and he did.

We drove quickly up the road from Queenstown with its stunning scenery to make it by 10AM (we found out later that this is one of the top ten scenic drives in the world). We didn’t want to miss the tour. The “wee shed” was called The Wool Shed and was definitely “wee” at only a few feet square and filled with wool garments for sale. John was inside. When I told him we were there for the 10Am tour he said great and let’s go. It seemed that it was only me and Mike. We followed him – like sheep – to his truck. “Hop in,” he said. The truck was his farm truck just like one we would have in Texas. The floor was covered in mud and dust, and various tools and garments were scattered about. I immediately felt at home. This was going to be a special event!

John drove about ten minutes up the road to part of his farm. We pulled up to a gate and he scampered out to unlatch it. Mike and I took in the scene. There were truck and tractor parts lying under a tree with scraps of lumber from old fences. Just past the gate was a three-sided barn assembled from sheets of corrugated tin- some silver and some red – whatever was handy. Junk was everywhere amongst the hay shed. As the three of us climbed out of the truck a welcoming party of a sheep and six chickens came running up. The lot of them followed John through the barnyard. It seems that this particular sheep had been bottle raised and was now a pet – and it knew the routine. John found an old, red, plastic bucket and got some feed from a tin shed. Soon, with the help of the feed, we had the sheep eating out of our hands. There was no hand sanitizer, no napkins….just sheep slobber as she gobbled up the feed between my fingers. It was just like home except that sheep drool less than cows. And, there was a pig, too. The small, spotted pig was in a muddy pen next to the barn. John told Mike to feed him from the bucket of yucky pears by the fence. The pig turned up its little, pink nose with interest as Mike held a pear. With a toss, the pig was after it and woofed it down along with a little mud and straw.

John had a film to show us so we walked over to the barn trailing a string of sheep and chickens behind. It was too funny. Definitely not your typical polished tourist experience. We walked into the open end of the tin barn to find yet more junk. John – completely unconcerned – said, “Take a seat.” We looked around and at each other. Finally, I said, “Where should we sit?” There, on the ground in front of us was an old bench seat from a truck with a couple of sheep skins thrown over it. Okay. We’ll sit there. As we settled in for the movie there was an old, dirty sheet covering something on a stand in front of us. John whisked the sheet away and there was a shiny, new 47” flat screen TV! It was all we could do to stifle a belly-laugh (that came later). To make the scene even more unlikely, the pet sheep wandered in to block our view of the movie. John kept shooing it out so that it wouldn’t “baa” while we were trying to listen. So, we watched two films - one about bringing sheep in for the yearly shearing and the other about the men who shear sheep for sport. The world record is 843 sheep in ten hours (non-stop from 7AM-5PM). This includes reaching inside the pen and hauling out a full grown sheep. It takes 46 passes to completely shear the sheep. Then the wool is collected by women working the floor. They throw the fleece in one fling onto a bed and sort it within seconds so that they are ready when the next sheep is finished. It is a choreographed ballet where each person’s timing has to be exact. It was impressive and extremely hard work.

And we got a small taste of it. John has been running merino sheep for 30 years and clearly loved telling us about the different breeds and how they are used. Merino sheep are raised for wool and live high on the mountain slopes. They are rounded up twice a year using people and dogs. Dogs being the more important of the two. Crossbred sheep are raised for meat and are generally penned in the lower elevations making it much easier to herd them up for shearing. Which is what we were about to do.

John had a few Crossbreds in the field and our job was to herd them into the pen by the barn. Since we had paid money for this activity, we headed off through the field tramping through high, green grass and more than a little sheep shit. Sheep shit comes in much smaller piles than cow shit which made it more difficult to spot. The good thing about these sheep is that they are largely wild and afraid of people. As soon as we started walking toward the small herd of about 20 sheep, they moved away, staying in a tight pack with their buddies. Walking and shooing, we got the sheep over to the barn where John opened the gate to a rickety pen and herded them inside.

We had to get them to move up a chute into a smaller holding pen for shearing. So there we were – me and Mike – inside a pen with a bunch of sheep. Frightened and panting, they ran around us as we moved avoiding the chute. There was nothing to do but shove. John laughed as we pushed and shoved on the sheep. With his help, we got the lead sheep to head up the chute and the rest followed.



Inside the shed we had photo ops with the six or so sheep waiting to be sheared. Some of them had curly, oily wool (this is where lanolin comes from) and others had dense, thick soft wool that made me want to snuggle up next to this cute animal. Sheep have great faces framed by their big, soft, warm ears. They didn’t have a lot of choice, so they let us pat them, feel their fur and take countless photos. By this time, my hands were covered with sheep slobber, dirt, oil from the wool and the charming smell of farm animals. No time to worry about that - it was time to try our hands at shearing.

John hooked up the electric shearer (it looks like a larger version of the shears we have for Skeeter) which was suspended from the wall of the barn. He went into the pen and grabbed one of the sheep and dragged her out by her front legs on her butt. There’s something about this posture that keeps the sheep calm. She just sat there on her “bum” while he held her by her front legs. She looked so funny with her skinny, stick-thin legs stuck straight out as though she was pointing her toes. We each got to try holding her and she cooperated very well. John demonstrated how to shear her and then had me – and then Mike – try it. I carefully ran the shearer down her side as the wool curled up and peeled away. It was so cool! John said I was a “natural.” I’m not sure the sheep thought so.

Mike took his turn on the same, poor sheep. After we’d finished, we let her go and surveyed our handiwork. It was lame. All the other sheep are laughing and calling her names. She had a very bad hair day! Poor thing.



With her on the outside and all her buddies on the inside, she was very unhappy and wouldn’t leave. Much “baa-ing” started so we let them all out. They were a little slow to catch on so I had to get back in the pen and try to direct them to the open gate. John instructed me to grab a sheep’s head and physically turn it in the direction I wanted her to go. Once again, when one started moving the others followed. Soon all the sheep were headed back out to their pasture for some more peaceful grazing – before the next “tour” of uninformed city-slickers arrived.

After shearing, John taught us how to see the difference in wool quality by the number of wrinkles in the fibers. Merino wool is filled with tiny wrinkles and the fiber is very fine. It's perfect for high quality, soft garments. There was a memorable moment as John described how merino wool was prized by the high fashion industry for its drape - as he tipped his body to one side to demonstrate the drape of the fabric.

With the flat-screen TV recovered, and back in the truck, we said good bye to the chickens, the pig and the pet sheep. What a morning! We can’t thank John enough for a most memorable experience. After leaving the wee shed, we stopped for lunch at the Glenorchy café. Thankfully, they had a sink AND hand sanitzer!