Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

The day of the shearing at Jusef and Anna's, we have been invited to come and participate if we like and are very much looking forward to another new experience - It is a beautiful clear, cold morning in the valley - we had to wash ice off the windscreen before we could go anywhere. A quick stop at the Boulangerie for bread for our picnic and off up the white, white valley floor, frost on all the bushes and fence posts, all the pastures white, the air still, sky blue. As we wound our way up to the plateau we left the white valley below and climbed into the sun, warmer already but still cold and frosty in any shaded spot. At Jusef and Anna's place there were already a few cars and from outside the shed we could hear the click of shears and a quiet murmur of voices. We walked into the warm wooden shed and a completely different shearing scene greeted our eyes. A long wooden feed trough runs along the middle of the shed and on each side of the trough is an open area covered in straw where the sheep live in winter. In varying positions all over the straw were about eight men and women cradling sheep, lying on sheep, standing beside sheep, clipping the wool with hand shears, chatting, laughing and calling across the shed. There is no great attempt at speed, plenty of conversation and discussion, time to talk and provide encouragement and advice. The variety of positions and holds is enormous - sheep sitting on their tails, lying on their sides with the shearer spreadeagled all over the sheep, sheep on their backs, legs in the air while someone clips off a bit of belly wool, some just lying peacefully on their sides chewing their cud while a shearer clips wool off a hind leg, one sheep standing on all fours while the shearer quietly works away. All is very quiet, no struggling or complaints from sheep or shearer, no swearing, no cuts, no blood, no engine noise. A moving mass of men, women and sheep rolling around in the straw in a warm old wooden shed while the frost stays white on the ground outside. The wool is long and stringy with very little weight and when the fleece is all off it is dumped in a wool pack - no skirting or classing, no pressing and Jusef says it is sold for very little.

There is a range of dogs outside, little black and brown Labris all spikey and cheeky, enormous white mountain dogs, happy looking Border Collies, every now and then there is a ruckus and a bedlam of barking breaks out. Smoko arrives and everyone stops to eat, drink and smoke - there are baguettes, cheese, saucisson, pate, beer and wine. The people are an interesting mix, about half men and women, long hair, beards and berets, an alternative feel. This is the traditional way of shearing the Brebis, all the Bergers gather at one person's place and shear the sheep and another day at another place. It is a social time, an opportunity for exchange as well as a practical way of getting a hard job done. There are also a number of young people who come in at smoko time, take up a pair of shears and slowly but surely shear a sheep. The young people look rather urban and alternative. We talk to one young man as he watches us, he is a cabinet maker from a nearby town and is training to become a mountain guide, mid to late twenties, he says he had an earlier life in marketing but left that in order to work with his hands and to be involved in something truthful and real. He is a friend of Jusef's daughter and will come back next year, attracted perhaps to an authentic way of life. The mix of traditional rural and urban, old and young must promote sustainability of a way of life that every one here is working to maintain.

We watched for a while, then Jusef handed us a pair of shears and we started. I catch a ewe, not difficult as they stand quietly at one end of the shed. I have selected a very big sheep, heavily pregnant and have some trouble tipping her over, but manage eventually to get her into position and start slowly. The shears are sharp and cut well, the ewe is in good condition with a bare belly and there are no wrinkles, the wool comes off easily. She doesn't struggle and is content to lie down quietly for the long blow and any other blow for that matter, a milking sheep, she is accostomed to being handled. The old techniques come slowly back, it is a logical process, a sort of a slow dance, moving constantly with the sheep. As my back gets tired Sue takes over, then Hadley and between us we finish the job without too much hassle. There are rather odd tufts and lumps of wool left all over her but she doesn't stand out particularly as a pink skin ad no second cuts are not so important in this shed. We watch the others and talk with them and they are very happy to help and give advice. They do as little bending as possible, hence the sheep is often lying on the floor and the shearer lying on the sheep. As I catch my next Brebis and attempt to tip her up I stumble backwards and fall flat into the straw to everyone's amusement. A young woman is struggling so Had goes to help, they all end up on the floor in the straw, calls of encouragement from every quarter. After smoko we get a bit organised and there are six or so shearers on our side and a catcher who brings the sheep to us. The cabinet maker has a go as well - we are flying through them and do another three, a grand total of five for the morning - this is not Jackie Howe type speed ! One of the girls is consistently doing two or three to our one. While we are shearing, Ashur has spent the morning in the lamb pen, blissfully playing with the lambs, carrying them, cuddling them, sitting with them. When he wasn't playing with the lambs he was having wild chasing games with the little black dog or talking to the big white mountain dog. The lambs are all healthy looking, with curly white coats, big roman noses and bellies full of milk.

All done except for a few in the lamb pen, two shearers are working away in there so we hop in and catch the last ewe, tip her up and begin. This really is different, as soon as she is tipped up a couple of lambs dive in for a free feed, there are lambs milling around, nibbling on our jeans, sucking and nuzzeling our legs, when we we lie down in the straw with the ewe, there are lambs climbing all over us and the sheep, chewing and nibbling on everything. Here we are, rolling around in the straw with a huge tranquil Brebis, lambs climbing all over us and the ewe while we slowly clip her wool with a pair of handshears - a little unorthodox for a couple of Australians who grew up with merinos in western Queensland !! Eventually they are all done and the shorn sheep let out of the shed. The shearers wash under a tap outside in the frost and stand around in the sun talking - the same as shearers anywhere.

A lovely relaxed atmosphere to the entire day, many things remniscent of the shearing sheds of Sue's and my youth - the smells, the sounds of sheep and dogs, the feel of greasy wool, men standing around at smoko talking and smoking but at the same time so different with the relaxed pace, the co-operative approach, the sound of shears clicking, conversation and laughter, a complete lack of struggling or swearing, smoko of baguettes, cheese, saucisson, pate, wine and beer, men and women shearing. The image of men, women and sheep rolling around in the straw in a warm wooden shed with the frost on the ground outside will remain with me.