The Independent Stitch

Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival: Yet another fine time

Time has been zooming past. I've been to Maryland (more on that in a moment), California to teach (few photos, although I've asked the organizers if they can send me some that they took in my workshop), and downstairs to the basement office at home, to catch up (at least partially) on paperwork. I can hardly believe that it was already two weeks ago today that I flew east to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival, and one week ago today that I flew the other direction, to the Conference of Northern California Handweavers.

In nine days I traveled about 6200 miles, and in my three days at home between the two spurs of that bifurcated journey I managed to get a freight shipment out (550 pounds of books to a Pennsylvania warehouse) and handle enough other details to keep the household and businesses at least nominally afloat.

No wonder I've felt a little less productive than usual for the past few days and that this blog post got started but not finished.

Maryland!

I love the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. Some time I need to look back in my records and see which was the year I first attended, after Linda Berry Walker of WoodsEdge Wools had urged Interweave to have a presence there for Spin-Off for quite a while. I was editor of Spin-Off. I think the first year we attended Maryland ad manager Sharon Altergott (a long-time good friend) and I went to the festival just to look it over. Before we left at the end of the weekend, we put in an application to have a booth the next year.

We didn't need a lot of space at the festival because we simply promoted spinning and Interweave's products, which were for sale from other vendors. We had a shallow half-booth in front of the utility room in what was then called Building V, and is now the Main Building (booth 18B). That became our home base for many following years.

Over time, my practice became to do set-up on Friday night and also perform a quick survey of the other booths to discover a fiber that would be catchy for people to watch me demonstrate with: color was always a draw. Early Saturday morning, I'd show up at the booth I'd identified, buy my fiber for the weekend, and then return to "home" and start spinning and talking with folks about spinning. Because we traveled light, I always used a handspindle, although occasionally I was loaned a wheel to try out for an hour or two. One year I spun all weekend on a Navajo spindle. Another year, fairly early in our time there, a new exhibitor showed up in the booth next door to the left along "our" wall—a young woman, named Maie Landra, working with her mother to present her lovely hand-dyed yarns and the designs she created to showcase them. In subsequent years, the woman's infant daughter joined them, and it went on from there . . . the young woman called her company Koigu. Now her yarns have become well-known favorites within the knitting community.

Lots of similar stories weave through my memories of the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. Because booth assignments tended to stay relatively stable, we developed a sense of neighborhood throughout and within the parts of the festival. Even with all the changes over the years, the festival overall still feels that way to me.

We only had two or three people staffing the Interweave booth, so breaks were infrequent. We put in long days, mostly standing on the concrete floor, but we worked beautifully together and got to meet many fine people who were either working the festival or visiting it. I remember many specific conversations. Sharon, more of a social organizer than I am, made sure we got some visiting time with other folks on Saturday night.

A couple of years ago, when it was time for Kristi Schueler to take the author photos that would be used on The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, I wore a vest for which I spun the yarn at Maryland and I held the cherry spindle on which I'd made the yarn. From purchase to plying, I made the vest's yarn during a single weekend, while talking with folks, using a variegated commercial roving with a bit of flash in it that I had bought from a Building V vendor. I did spin the yarn I used for trim at home later (because I ran out of the Maryland yarn just shy of finishing the front edgings). The vest, my own design, was shown in an early issue of Interweave Knits, although the instructions as printed in the magazine didn't precisely represent the way I made the garment; they were more generic and didn't describe the intricate ribbing that flows without a break into the main body patterning.

Hmmm. I bought the cherry spindle, one of my all-time favorites, at Maryland, too, from Noel Thurner of Norsk Fjord Fiber. . . . Noel has pretty much retired from that business now, as have a number of other folks who are still firmly part of the festival in my heart.

___

So Maryland feels like "home" to me in many ways, and I was delighted that Storey Publishing decided to have a book launch there for The Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook. For the launch, Storey sponsored the AfterParty organized by Guido Stein on Saturday evening, and we participated in a book signing on the festival grounds on Sunday.

The AfterParty was held at the Sheraton Columbia Town Center Hotel, in one of the ballrooms.

Most of it was a bit of a blur, because I'm not especially focused when I'm part of one of the featured events, but I loved that Storey gave away five books as part of the door-prize drawings. It was sort of a jackpot thing: for five of the door prizes, if your ticket was called you ALSO got a copy of the book!

Carol and I did a presentation on the process of making the book. We'd been asked to prepare a ten-minute routine, so we put together an appropriate number of slides. Yet it was all ad-lib, and folks seemed to like the details so we went on longer than that.

Here's the first slide, before the party began, after a collaborative crew had set up the projector, sized the picture/screen relationship, and keystoned the image (made it look square on the screen). The situation wasn't a great one for good photos, but the pictures hint at what went on.

Pam Art, president of Storey Publishing, introduced us. She's in the light blue below. I'm on the left, in a purple cotton handknitted sweater (great for summer events in air-conditioned rooms). Co-author Carol Ekarius is behind Pam, and organizer Guido Stein is in the white shirt on the right.

Guido's mother was there this year. She is as nice and as interesting as a person can be, and I had a great time talking with her. She had ideas for us involving international educational outreach about fibers that will require multiple cloning of ourselves and a bunch of years to implement, but we've started on them. . . . 

Some books were available for sale and signing at the party. Most of the stash was held back for the signing at the fairgrounds on Sunday.

Because Storey sponsored the party, the event raised about $1,000 for rescue organization Star Gazing Farm.

__

On Sunday, Carol and I signed books steadily for an hour and a quarter and then they were all gone. The copies that were there were air-freighted in, so the number was limited. The rest of the print run was still on the boat, coming by more economical means. We did have special bookplates that we signed for folks who were there but were in line too late to get the book itself.

And we didn't have to worry about missing the Parade of Breeds (a concern I'd had since I heard about the timing of the book signing). We were at the show ring in plenty of time!

Can digital cameras wear out? I was having trouble getting good photos of the sheep, although I was in a good position. The shutter speeds were correct, but it seemed to take about three-quarters of a second between when I pressed the button and the shutter fired. This is new. Changing batteries didn't help. Sheep can move a lot in three-quarters of a second. I have blurry images of all sorts of critters.

Yet I did get a few halfway decent photos at the Parade of Breeds, mostly, I think, through luck. Here are some Jacobs, with enough movement to be interesting, not completely out of focus.

Colonial Williamsburg's Leicester Longwools make regular appearances in the parade.

Scottish Blackfaces were represented by this delightful character.

This Shetland ram was not only incredibly handsome but very friendly. He charmed me completely. His people said that he'd be happy to go home with me, and if it had been feasible, I'd have been tempted! Yet I don't think they would have wanted to give him up. He was wonderful.

Suffolks have such fascinating faces. The wool is often overlooked by both shepherds and textile folk, yet can produce an exceptionally versatile, serviceable yarn, superb for making mittens, sweaters, hats, blankets, and other items that see daily use and provide a lot of comfort. As a spinner, I'd rather see the wool at full length, instead of trimmed for the show ring.

There was a lovely group of American Tunis, lambs and adults, showing the color shift from cinnamon to oatmeal (with color remaining on faces and legs) as the animals mature.

Not from the Parade of Breeds, but from when I was wandering around the barns, here's Sue Bundy, one of the people involved in Solitude Wool. She has American Karakuls at her RedGate Farm. She's brushing the fleece before showing one of her sheep, while a couple of others from her flock look on in the background.

I didn't get much shopping done, although a friend had sent me with her budget and a mission that I fulfilled. I did get some lightweight wooden cardweaving cards for myself, something I hadn't seen before that I have a reason to use within the next six months. And a Lincoln Longwool t-shirt, bright pink, that will become a regular part of my life at home.

Ah, Maryland.

We had a great time.

Thanks to everyone who played a part in making it happen.

And now I'd better get this post up, before another week wings by.

Is using wool cruel?

Yesterday I received a comment from a friend that contained several questions, and I wrote a comment in response that really needs to be a blog post, even though it's not something I'd ordinarily write about. There will be no pictures, either, for which we are all grateful. Not even links to pictures of some of the topics (but I found some great links for others).

The short answer: NO, using wool is not cruel. It involves a symbiotic relationship between two species. Sheep either shed their wool and it can then be gathered for human use, or they are shorn for health reasons and the wool then becomes something the sheep doesn't need any more and humans are free to use.

With the breeds that shed, which are relatively uncommon these days, the symbiosis is an example of commensalism, in which one side of the exchange (humans) benefits and the other (sheep) is neither harmed nor aided. With shearing the relationship is one of mutualism, where both sides benefit. Either way, the sheep are not harmed by the use of their wool.

Yet there are reasons why this discussion of cruelty takes place.

Here's the comment with its questions:

Hi Deb, A well-meaning but misguided vegan acquaintance told me it was cruel to knit with wool and that man was mistreating sheep for their wool. I think she based that outrageous statement on what she heard about Australian merinos. Can you discuss a bit about the need for man to shear sheep (are there sheep that don't need shearing? and why the majority do need shearing?) and can you educate me on the whole merino controversy thing? If the above questions are not to your liking/not your area of interest, I'll understand.

Here's the response I wrote, with a couple of additions:

Hi, Dina. Ah, yes. As a vegetarian advocating for sheep, I take some heat from both sides. The current economy requires that flocks be managed for their meat sales; I've been accused of being disloyal to the entire enterprise of raising sheep because I don't eat meat. On the other side, well-meaning vegetarians and vegans who haven't been around sheep—or who have seen some of the information on a particular practice with Australian Merinos—react hard in the "cruelty" direction, as your friend has done.

I've studied the issues involved. I am comfortable with my own life choice in being a vegetarian. I've been one for a very long time. While recognizing the realities of the contemporary market, part of my work—in alignment with my personal philosophy—has the intention of increasing the economic value of wool as a way of supporting the shepherds in their work, so that fiber becomes a bigger part of the overall picture and a more substantial reason for maintaining healthy, contented flocks of these amazing animals in all their astonishing diversity.

And as I have studied sheep and other fiber animals I have had to look at the accusations of cruelty in order to get a comprehensive picture of why this controversy exists and what my thoughts about it are.

On the Australian Merino controversy

The practice your friend has heard about is called mulesing, and don't put that term into your search engine unless you want to be grossed out. (I've linked to a Wikipedia article that gives a good overview with no illustrative material.) It's appalling, and some of the photos are worse. I don't like to think about it, much less talk about it. THAT SAID, I have done my research, because I needed to know. (1) The practice prevents flystrike, which can be gruesomely painful and fatal to the animals (worse than the mulesing, which is why it's done—and there are also photos on the web of flystrike resulting in death) and (2) the practice is being eliminated, although it has not been completely phased out because alternatives to prevent flystrike need to be in place or the elimination of the practice will result in more suffering for the animals.

Australia has massive flocks of Merino sheep. Management techniques for livestock on that scale are very different than the management techniques used for smaller flocks, or even of huge flocks of breeds other than Merinos, who are noted for growing large quantities of exceptionally fine wools. Merinos have also been bred to have skin that occurs in loose folds (producing more surface area for the growing of more wool), which increases their susceptibility to flystrike. Climate is a factor, as are seasonal variations; flystrike is worse when it has been especially rainy. In areas where flystrike occurs and the resident animals are susceptible to it, it needs to be prevented.

Mulesing as a practice for controlling flystrike is something I'd love to see disappear completely . . . yesterday, or sooner. There's an interesting article on the topic—one of the authors is Bernie Rollin, a well-known animal ethicist whose work I respect enormously—in one of the scholarly journals. Getting a copy of the entire article requires $$ or access through an academic library, but the abstract gives the gist.

Management in flocks that are less than massive can provide more individualized attention to the sheep (including Merinos). That means that husbandry practices can also be individualized. The sheep I frequently write about that are on the RBST and ALBC lists are in small flocks. There aren't enough of them to make really big flocks (which is okay: they don't fit environments that can handle large flocks).
In fact, the Australian Merino situation does not reflect general sheep husbandry practices in other breeds and other parts of the world, for many reasons. It has changed some already, and it does need to change more.

On shearing

There are sheep that don't need shearing. They fall into two basic groups: hair sheep (they may have wool as well as hair, but not much and it sheds) and the so-called primitive breeds that shed seasonally.

As humans have kept sheep over the millennia, they have bred to maximize the soft wool and minimize the hair and kemp components of the three-part original fleece. (The Merino has no hair or kemp at all.) Hair is a useful item, although not for soft clothing, and kemp produces a tweedy texture. However, for processing it's easiest just to have wool and not to have to separate out, or deal with, the three types of fiber. Breeding that emphasizes wool was a convenience for hand processing and a necessity for mechanical processing on a large scale.

Along with the increase in wool percentages in a breed's fleeces, and the drop in hair and kemp components, came a loss of the natural tendency to shed. (Genetics is complicated: when you get one quality you want, you may lose another that's useful.) This led to the need to shear. It can also be more convenient to shear: all the wool at one time, from all the sheep, in one location. Beats pulling it off bushes. In addition, although some sheep—even some Merinos—can go without shearing for quite a while (do check out the story of Shrek the sheep in a search engine), leaving the wool in place for too long can result in skin problems and other health difficulties.

A good shearer will remove the fleece in one lovely piece without causing any distress or injury to the animal. There's a lot of skill involved. In fact, after a proficient shearing the sheep will bounce back onto its feet and dart away, looking like it's just taken a weight off. (It should have been immobilized by the shearer in a comfortable position: a lack of struggling and a benign look on the sheep's face indicate that the position is right.) The shearing process, done well, looks almost like a dance: yes, there's a lot of muscle in it—dance requires muscle, too. We need more good shearers. And lots more dancing.

Although I haven't shorn sheep myself (I have clipped a goat), I've watched shearers on many occasions, in several cultures, and have also attended a shearing school and watched people learning to do this work. I read Godfrey Bowen's Wool Away: The Art and Technique of Shearing shortly after it was published in 1974. I recommend it strongly for an understanding of the process. Another fine resource, with great photos, is Kevin Ford's Shearing Day.

Human breeding has produced the need to shear sheep. There need be no harm caused—it's just like getting a haircut. (Note that small children who aren't used to having their hair washed or cut may object loudly, to the point where it appears they're being abused, yet leaving their hair unwashed and unpruned could be considered neglect.)

I don't mind a few second cuts in a fleece. They indicate the shearer's intention to err on the side of slightly damaging the wool rather than nicking the animal's skin. When I get ready to wash wool that has been freshly shorn, I can easily brush these bits off, so they disappear before they ever have a chance to get in the way of yarn preparation. (Lots of second cuts, of course, reflect a lack of proficiency in shearing.)

There are great opportunities to watch shearing demonstrations at fiber festivals. I most enjoy watching blade-shearing: the level of skill involved is amazing, and it's beautifully efficient. Blade-shearing involves the use of shears, like great big scissors, rather than mechanical clippers.

Blade-shearing leaves more wool on the sheep than mechanical shearing—not as close a haircut, and (except possibly for the shearers' choice of music) it's a lot quieter. There's a great video here.

If you watch the video, pay attention to the way the shearer handles the sheep, and to the animal's complete lack of distress throughout the shearing and in the way she leaves the shearing area. The shears are—and must be!—extremely sharp (at the end of the video, the shearer touches up the blades before beginning on the next sheep). Every movement is precisely orchestrated and timed so that the shearing happens as quickly as possible and without harming the animal (or the shearer). The entire clipping takes less than three minutes. Note the way the shearer changes his own and the sheep's positions; the sheep needs to be relaxed so it will not make any sudden movements and be cut as the wool is removed. Watch especially the way the shearer moves the ears out of the way, and how he coordinates his actions when he removes the wool from the legs.

There's more information on shearing here.

At the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival, there have for years been a few blade-shearing demos outside the main building. This year, as apparently happened last year as well (I wasn't there), the festival will be hosting the only blade-shearing competition in the United States. It's happening on the stage between 10 and 1 on Sunday, May 8, 2011. (I'll be doing the book signing from 10 to 2, except when I plan to sneak out and watch the Parade of Breeds at 12:30. Maybe I'll get a peek in at the end of the shearing while I'm walking around.)

In sum

Your friend is well intended. This is a case where an opinion about a complex topic gets formed without going deeply enough into understanding the issues and forces involved. Your friend's impulse is right: the practice is wrong. Yet the solution to this wrongness needs to be as sophisticated as the situation that it addresses, and needs to be appropriately applied, not forced into place in areas where the problem doesn't exist. Like putting out a general call against the use of all wool.

What's a good path through this thicket?

* Know your shepherd!

* Get acquainted with the sheep who are growing your wool!

You can do this in person or by letter or internet.

On another topic

I look forward to the time when people quit docking dogs' tails and cropping their ears for reasons not directly related to the individual animal's health or safety.