Coe Creek Farm and Product News
When I sit down to read in the evening--right now, Barbara Kingsolver's new novel, The Lacuna--I sit comfortably in the old rocking chair that is just the right distance from a good reading light. No matter what I am reading, I am always aware of the warm, curly wool under my bare feet. The black sheep skin makes a perfect rug under the rockers of the blue cushioned chair, and it is large enough to also provide a cozy place to rest one's feet. That sheep skin came from the first sheep I sheared all by myself. No, I did not kill the sheep by cutting it when I wielded the blades. Its demise came later. I began learning to shear sheep in 2001. Runo had been fortunate enough to take part in a workshop at a fiber festival the previous summer. He had always shorn our flock with a traditional shearing rig--the long shaft, noisy motor, and the clatter of the rapidly moving cutters on the handpiece typical elements of the shearing process. But in that August of 2000 he learned the basics of hand blade shearing from Kevin Ford, a master shearer among that nearly extinct species of craftspersons. Since that time, our motorized shearing rig has never seen action. I had always been very reluctant to learn machine shearing. The few times I had tried, I had been very discouraged and intimidated by the relentlessness of the cutting tool. But, when I watched Runo shear by hand, I was intrigued, and it wasn't long before I wondered if I, too, could learn to shear a sheep with the big steel sheep shears. I began by shearing bellies, the first step in the process. I went no further, just removing the wool from the ewes' briskets, stomach area, and around the udder. Then, Runo would complete the job. Between shearing stints, I read Ford's step-by-step instructions in his informative and entertaining book, Shearing Day. And, gradually, I started to learn the other five positions after the belly area. But, I had never progressed to the ultimate goal--shearing a whole sheep all by myself. Something told me that this was a step best accomplished when I was all alone, not influenced by the presence of another person, even one as helpful and calm as Runo. So, I continued to learn, and perhaps even lightened the load for him as I sheared as much as I could and then turned the sheep over to him. One spring day in 2002 or 2003 I made the plunge. Runo was away in the bee yards with Byrnie, our beekeeper friend, and we had a dozen or so unshorn yearling ewes in the shed. They were all due for wool removal, and I decided that this was the chance for which I'd been waiting. I don't know why I picked the black sheep. Perhaps, it was just because it was a pretty sheep. I penned the group in a corner, caught the black sheep, and backed it to the shearing board. I turned it up into a sitting position and grabbed my blades. Then, I remembered what Runo had said after the workshop where he'd learned to shear. A group of ewe lambs had been provided by some brave sheep owner who was willing to let beginners practice on his or her sheep. Kevin Ford mentioned that it was wise to check to make sure that the animal actually was a ewe. But, everyone was eager to learn, and the lambs were said to be only ewes. One girl in the class was not lucky, though. As she sheared the belly, she cut into the male anatomy of a lamb that definitely was not a ewe! Ford made a quick stitch or two, and the lamb recovered with no problem, but that story had made an impression on me. So, before I began to shear the black sheep, I checked its gender. Oh, oh, we had inadvertently kept a wether lamb! The black sheep was not a ewe. I struggled through shearing that first sheep, but I completed the job all by myself, and I told nobody of my deed. When Runo fed the sheep in the shed that evening, he began to laugh. "I don't know why," he said, "but something in the back of my mind told me that you had shorn a ewe today." "No," I replied. "I didn't." "Who sheared that black yearling, then?" he asked. "I did," I answered. "That doesn't make sense," he told me. "It isn't a ewe," I explained. We had missed that wether when we had sorted out the ewe lambs we wanted to keep the fall before. The black wether eventually became lamb chops, roasts, and stew meat, and his skin turned into a perfect rug.
FARM PRODUCTS FOR SALE BY MAIL SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS! HANDMADE FELTED MITTENS FROM THE FLEECE OF OUR FLOCK $35 POSTAGE PAID HANDMADE FELTED BABY SHOES FROM THE FLEECE OF OUR FLOCK $20 POSTAGE PAID HAND DIPPED BEESWAX CANDLES $5 PER PAIR POSTAGE PAID SOCKS FROM THE FLOCK ARE NOW HERE! WE HAVE THESE SOCKS MADE FROM OUR OWN WOOL IN A CANADIAN MILL. WE SELL SOME OF THEM IN A NATURAL SHEEP'S WHITE, AND SOME WE DYE IN BEAUTIFUL COLORS. SIZES SMALL AND MEDIUM-LARGE FIT MOST MEN AND WOMEN. $15 FOR WHITE, $18 FOR COLORS, POSTAGE PAID. CALL US AT (231) 829-3328 OR CONTACT US THROUGH THIS WEB SITE FOR FURTHER INFORMATION ON ANY OF THESE PRODUCTS. TRANSLATIONS OF DOCUMENTS OR LETTERS FROM SWEDISH TO ENGLISH ALSO AVAILABLE. CALL OR E-MAIL FOR DETAILS.
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