Shear Determination: What Got Me To (and Through) Shearing School

I own a yarn shop in a fairly rural area north of Seattle, Washington, so I know plenty of community members with fiber animals. In early 2021, I started fielding regular requests for help finding sheep shearers. I was perplexed. This hadn’t happened previously, so where had this demand originated? The answer seems to have been the COVID-19 pandemic. Lockdowns brought opportunities for property improvements and companion animals; sheep offered the possibility for both. Not everyone was familiar with the seasonal chores associated with sheep, though, and new sheep owners were inquiring about the necessity of regular shearing.

After putting those pieces together, I started looking into where elements of our fibershed were getting disconnected. Small farms sometimes pool resources to hire a shearer at a central location for a weekend, but if you’re not involved with 4H or Future Farmers of America, you may not know how to find out about those events. Commercial shearers often won’t book shearing for two or three sheep because it’s not worth their time. Many sheep owners think that if you don’t want yarn from the wool, it’s worthless—into the burn pile or landfill it goes. [PAYWALL]Local mills would love to connect with these small-scale sheep operations to figure out ways to use the fleece instead of discarding it, but the millers don’t necessarily know how to find the sheep owners.

Several of the 2024 shearing class members in the Chick Hubbard Memorial Sheep Shearing Training Trailer on the first day of class; this trailer was custom-built for the Washington shearing school. Photo by Lindsey Spoor

Becoming Part of the Solution

An idea came together. What if I could provide on-site shearing services for small flocks of ten or fewer animals while also helping connect sheep owners to local mills? Wool pellets would be a hit with gardeners. Quilters, bemoaning the scarcity of natural-fiber batting, could have a consistent source. And of course, fiber artists and yarn shop owners are eager for opportunities to get local wool. With a plan in place, I applied for the Washington State Sheep Shearing School and was accepted for the 2024 class.

The front of the t-shirt that graduates of the Washington State Shearing School receive upon completing the week-long program. Photo by Lindsey Spoor

I honestly don’t know what surprised me the most. The physicality of shearing is astonishing. The size of the range sheep we worked with was intimidating, especially as I had no prior livestock experience. Learning that wool is worth an average of 83 cents per pound to an industrial buyer is sobering; some areas, like Texas, are starting to abandon wool production as even a minor source of income and are embracing hair sheep instead. The beautiful naturally colored fleeces that handspinners love have no value to commercial wool buyers, and if even a handful is found in a wool bale, it can result in the entire bale being declared worthless. The sheep producers, rightfully focusing on meat production because it pays so much better than wool, don’t necessarily realize how large a potential the fiber arts industry offers. Every day, even on the hardest days, I left class a little more determined to do my part in rebuilding an American wool industry.

Lindsey learns to trim hooves at the McCoy farm on Whidbey Island, Washington in May 2024. Photo by Carla McCoy

Success, Sheep by Sheep

My shearing mantra is: if no one dies or requires emergency care and the wool comes off the sheep, I’ve succeeded. I’m fortunate to have amazing mentors who can work with me to improve and adapt techniques, give me practice with tasks like trimming hooves, and help me debrief after rough shearing sessions. Those difficult jobs offer openings for me to educate clients on best practice and standard animal husbandry, which results in healthier animals and, hopefully, healthier fleeces that can be put to better use. Every experience also helps me communicate a little more about why quality wool products cost what they do and how those products get to our shelves.

Lindsey, Jon McCoy, and a staff member prepare to catch a sheep at Lindsey’s first shearing job. Photo by Jessica Schwab

Lindsey Spoor owns Stilly River Yarns a full-service yarn shop in Stanwood, Washington, which offers not only support for a variety of fiber crafts but also reading lessons, mending services, goat matchmaking, and more. She can often be found listening to a good audiobook while processing fleece, spinning, knitting, crocheting, or weaving. Follow her shearing and community outreach adventures through the StillyRiverYarns accounts on Instagram, Facebook, and Threads.