Born to the life of a shearer

The number of sheep in Marlborough has fallen by more than 25 per cent since 2002, but there are still plenty of industry characters in the district. Blair Ensor talks to third-generation shearing contractor Ken Hart, whose gangs still keep sheep cool during summer.

The weathered corrugated iron exterior of Tordarroch's woolshed hides a hive of activity.

Inside, wool hands scurry about, sweeping locks and collecting fleeces, while the persistent buzz of shearing handpieces resonates from five stands stained with sweat and blood.

Tufts of fleece cling to old wooden rafters from seasons gone by.

Ken Hart's shearing gangs have shorn sheep at the 3500-hectare Waihopai Valley property since owner Graeme Rive took over in 1992.

The gang shore 3800 of his merino ewes earlier in the year and has returned to trim 1800 hoggets over two days.

"It's the culmination of a year's work," says Graeme as he grabs a fleece and tosses it into a bin.

The wool from each animal is graded into six lines according to class, length and micron, a measurement of the wool fibre's diameter.

He is disappointed with the weather-affected wool with which he has had to contend so far, but still expects about 90 bales of about 180 kilograms each from the flock.

He points out a snowy white pile behind him.

"I could do with every bit of that stuff.

"Merino hoggies are always funny animals. They're fussy buggers and they like the best of country."

Tordarroch is right on the edge of good merino country, he says.

"It's not quite dry enough."

Ken keeps a watchful eye on those working feverishly around Graeme.

He is a man mountain, but quiet and reserved, the third generation of Harts to run a contracting business.

Tui Hart, his late grandfather, got the ball rolling in the late 1940s when shearing contracting was in its infancy.

Ken's father, John Hart, explains that before World War II, there weren't any gangs, only freelance shearers.

Tui, a "gun blade shearer", shore a lot of sheep in Otago and Canterbury, while also working as a logging contractor. He died in 1956, aged 52, but by then John, who began shearing at the age of 17, was hooked and already carrying on his good work.

By the end of the 1950s, John had about 20 gangs, a combination of blade and machine shearers, who were removing wool from almost one million sheep annually.

Things are a bit different for Ken. Since the inception of viticulture in the district, the region's sheep numbers have more than halved, and he now runs two to three gangs.

Collectively, they shear about 200,000 sheep a year.

Ken has been hanging around woolsheds since he was 12, and began to shear when he was about 19. The one qualification needed was a good work ethic. You could learn everything else in the shed.

"You take a towel to work. The reason you take a towel to work is because you're sweating," he says.

The faster you go and the longer you maintain a work standard suitable to the farmer, the more money you earn, he says.

Twenty-nine years on, his shearing time is limited, but in between doing the rounds of his gangs, he still picks up the odd handpiece, and does a bit of rousing, pressing and training of those new to the game.

"If you don't like the job, you're wasting your time doing it, because it's hard and physical."

He has brought five shearers and six shed hands with him to Tordarroch.

The most senior of Ken's staff on site is Billy Norton.

Billy's hands dart around a fresh fleece, skirting and separating wool, before it's passed down the chain to Graeme.

"It's a talent which comes with experience," says Billy.

From under his grey, matted beanie, he confesses to having worked for the Harts for 37 years.

"I love it. Every shed is different.

"It's like one big happy family. You all stick together and you all do your job."

The wool handlers work on rotation in the shed, tending to different jobs every half hour. While Billy and three women contend with fleeces, Marlene Pepere, 46, and another of Ken's gang sweep the boards clear of any locks and keep the shearers' work space clean.

"This has got to be one of the coldest sheds we do," she says.

Marlene is from Napier, but for the past three years she has spent five months a year in Marlborough roaming woolsheds with Ken, before heading home for the crossbred shearing season.

"It's good to be here as an experienced wool handler to show the young ones," she says.

"You learn something different all the time."

Working as a wool handler is challenging, because "when I come to work, I'm giving 110 per cent all the time.

"The shed system won't work if you don't work as a team."

The shearers in front of her don't slow down for anyone. They are paid on a piece rate of about $1.80 a sheep.

They might work only three days every fortnight, so they make hay while the sun shines.

"I'm at the mercy of when the farmer wants to shear his sheep," says Ken.

None of the shearers are big men. "Size has nothing to do with it. It's to do with the size of their motor. That's the truth," he says.

Dan Bogle, a 37-year-old born and bred Marlburian, turns off his handpiece, swings open a white gate and wrestles another sheep.

In front of his shearing station, a small cubbyhole houses a pack of cigarettes, a towel and a water bottle. A belt with all his tools hangs from the wall.

He is using a 6mm covercomb, because "merino don't grow much wool, so they (farmers) want as much wool as they can get off".

A 7mm covercomb will give a bit more cover in winter, he says.

His claim to fame is the ability to shear a sheep blindfolded, which has won him a few bets with new shed hands, but he will not attempt it with a merino because their wrinkles make it more difficult.

By smoko at 9am, he has shorn about 50 sheep. To his right, Koepa MacDonald, 30, has shorn 52.

Shearing can be very competitive, says Dan, but "it gets you going".

His record is 305 sheep in a day.

"You've got to have bloody good hand-eye co-ordination," he says.

But there's more to it than the physical rush.

"It's the great people you work with and you get to see a bit around the country."

- The Marlborough Express