Shearing – South Gap Station – South Australia

Shearing at the South Gap Woolshed had been in full swing for several days when I arrived to photograph the shearers and stockmen engaged in the annual event.

Ray spraying the sheep for lice while pastoralist, Bob Greenfield, manages then in the race.

With a total workforce of 17 people, it was by no means a small or simple operation.

At the yards, integral with the woolshed, was the boss, pastoralist Bob Greenfield and three of his workmen, one of whom introducing himself as Ray.

Two stockmen, the Greenfield boys, Paul and Wayne, moved the sheep from afar on the station for shearing and took them back to water and feed after the operation.

When I first met Paul, he’d just returned from taking sheep 20km away. I commented that the sheep must have done it hard and he indicated that it was hard going on the motorbike saying that he had a saw bum. Not surprising, mind you. I reckon the seat could have stood reupholstering.

Shearing contractor, Scott, is a gun shearer. “He’s shore for Australia,” I was told.

Of course, between Paul and the dogs, they’d have gone over some pretty rough country, heading off straying sheep and keeping the mob moving toward satisfactory feed and water.

When I came across the stockmen on Sunday, they were getting the sheep in for Monday’s shearing; three stockmen on motorbikes, several dogs and Ray as the taxi driver.

Ray drove the Cruiser along at the rear, picking up any sheep that weren’t up to the walk.

What’s a Cruiser? Well, this one is a Toyota Landcruiser four wheel drive (4 x 4) trayback with a stock crate.

The women shearers held their own with the men, shearing their 200 a day.

One of the stockmen must have a hand held radio because, as Ray stopped for a chat with me, a voice came over the radio in the Cruiser, calling “taxi.” This, of course, terminated our conversation and off went Ray in the Cruiser, over the sandy plain, sparsely covered with salt bush, to load up another sheep and free up the stockman to continue mustering, rather than staying with the disabled animal.

A sheep can be carried on a motorbike, across the tank, but one sheep is about the limit.

The shearing team was made up of five shearers, two rouse-abouts, the wool classer and his offsider, the fella who pressed the wool and the most important person in the whole crew, the shearers cook.

Rouse-about throwing a fleece onto the wool classing table.

Of the five shearers, two were women. One of the two rouse-abouts was a girl and the shearers cook was a little lass of about 20, the daughter of the wool classer’s offsider.

The two female shearers held their own with the men, each maintaining their tally of 200 a day with a total output of 1,100 to 1,200 sheep a day.

It was a busy and intense working environment, yet a happy place.

The shearers are paid on piecework rates so there’s no stopping for a spell or a chat. Finish one sheep, give it a pat to send it out into the yard and then drag the next sheep out of the pen and keep going.

The wool classer put the fleeces in one of half a dozen bays awaiying pressing and branding according to it class.

The shearing shed was a fairly noisy place with the constant put, put, putting of the diesel engine that runs the shearing plant. Then there’s the noise of the sheep, both outside and in the pens and the music going full tilt from a CD player on the floor, loud enough to overcome the other noise. Added to that, in the adjacent section of the woolshed, the wool press is driven by a petrol motor which runs while the press is in operation.

So everybody got on with their work without a lot of communication.

I felt at home in the shearing shed environment. Mostly, everybody just kept on with the job and allowed me to photograph them unhindered, without posing or fussing about how I’d present them.

A busy time at the South Gap woolshed. Bob Greenfield rolls a bale out of the woolshed to await loading, transport and sale.

In order not to be misunderstood, I avoided photos of the girls backsides as they bent over the sheep. It’s difficult to get real stuff under such restrictions. The shearers are moving about energetically all the time, without warning.

It was inspiring to witness the energy and harmony of the workplace. At one time a call came through the noisy environment from the far end of the line of shearers. The girl rouse-about raced up the shed with a giggle and a beautiful smile, then raced the fleece down to the classing table and raced back to clean up the loose wool laying on the floor. The shearers are dependent on the rouse-abouts to keep the work flow streamlined.

But the good part to me was that it was not an impatient call for the rouse-about, and the girl was happy to be the most help that she could. A conversation over smoko with Scott, the shearing contractor, indicated that the old days of shearers abusing the rouse-abouts are gone.