Shear hard work
Better pay and conditions woo shearers to Australia
It’s 7.45am in a North Canterbury shearing shed and the day is in full swing. The walls vibrate with the hum and rattle of the machines; the air is pungent with the sweet-sour smell of sheep and sweat, and the radio blares.
Four men take sweeping blows with their handpieces across the sheep they grip between their knees. The wool cascades to the floor. The shearers’ tattooed arms shine with sweat, even though it is still early morning and chilly.
Circling the men are the wool handlers, the presser and the classer, all intent on their supportive roles. But the shearers are the kingpins. The pace, intensity, the sheer hard yakka of the work they do shines. As does the skill which has taken them thousands of sheep to hone.
Sadly, there is a shortage of shearers in New Zealand and their art is a diminishing one, for a number of reasons.
South Canterbury shearing gang owner Chris McCarthy used to drive from Ashburton to Blenheim and see nothing but corriedale sheep. Now it’s cows and grapes.
Dairy and the failing wool industry have taken a toll on sheep numbers, he says. It has pushed what sheep remain back into the hills.
‘‘It doesn’t take much math to work out that with half the number of sheep there were 50 years ago there will be half the number of shearers.
‘‘Our sheep population peaked at 70 million in 1982, but has dropped to less than 28 million.’’
After 30 years in the contract business, McCarthy sees fewer shearers not only because sheep numbers have plummeted, but because farming practices have changed.
‘‘We shear all year round now because the North Island is doing their main shear right up until March and this overlaps with the South Island. Shearers are spread thin.’’
He struggles to find ‘‘good people’’ in the busy season, especially for shearing merinos up-country where real expertise is required.
‘‘Contractors are all after the same people. It’s hard to keep shearers and shed hands when there are options like dairying for young people to get into.
‘‘If I get good people, and that includes shed hands and pressers, I don’t let them go. This includes the girls that do the merino wool. They work very fast. They have to go at the shearer’s speed, and it takes real skill. And all for $25 per hour.’’
Many Kiwi shearers head for Australia and end up staying where they can make better money, he says. North Islanders go to Wagin, Western Australia; Mainlanders head to Hamilton,
Victoria. ‘‘They are in demand over there. It’s seen as a craft.’’
Mark Barrowcliffe is president of the New Zealand Shearing Contractors Association. He owns a King Country-based shearing contracting business and has been shearing since 1986.
On a lunch break in the shed, he talks about the shortage.
‘‘Sheep numbers have halved, so the shearer numbers have halved – this has to be right.
‘‘We’ve been heading towards a big crash for quite some time and that crash is already happening.
‘‘The only thing that saves the industry from this shortage is the decline in sheep numbers. If there were 70 million sheep like there used to be there would be no way we would be able to service them.’’
A few things are going on here, he says. There is no shearer training, and the workforce is being poached to greener pastures.
‘‘We have had no official training pathway for five years now, and there is little exposure through schools to the wool industry as a career pathway.
‘‘And I’m not just talking about shearers, I mean everybody in the wool industry. Wool handlers and pressers as well.’’
The last five outfits that tried to run wool industry training schools failed to meet the government regulation for funding. The training model didn’t fit the industry, Barrowcliffe says.
‘‘That’s because we are such a transient workforce. The trainees might skip to Australia, and the training agreements fall apart.’’
Kiwi farmers are missing out on the best shed staff, he says. For a long time New Zealand has been known as the best training ground for shearers, wool handlers and pressers and then they go overseas to make good money.
‘‘We’ve been paying coins and Australia has been waving dollars around.’’
There’s a perception that it’s better pay and better continuity of work over there. It’s still seasonal but there are better working conditions. You can work five days a week and have the weekends off because of the weather, he says.
‘‘We don’t want to stop them going over there, but we want to entice them back to give our workers a hand during the busy season.’’
The work is undeniably physical, and this can be off-putting, he says. But some people like it.
‘‘Yes, it’s a hard job and you sweat a lot but look at an office job. You sit all day and then feel compelled to go to the gym. We get paid to stay fit, and when we knock off, we can blob.’’
Shearing Contractors Association board member and Winton-based shearing contractor Jamie McConachie agrees that the shortage is a growing problem.
‘‘It’s hard for contractors to keep to a schedule and the delays compound throughout the season. This means for some farmers waits of up to two weeks getting their sheep shorn,’’ he says.
‘‘Overseas workers have filled some of the gaps but not fixed the problem.
‘‘For three months of this main shear 27 per cent of my wool handlers and shearers were internationals. Another contractor based in Hawke’s Bay had 26 staff from the UK alone working for him, and told me that if it weren’t for them, he’d have to finish up.’’
But working in New Zealand isn’t an annual thing for these overseas shearers, he says. Many come as couples and for most, it’s about getting experience to take back home. They will often do two or three seasons and then return.
McConachie began shearing 37 years ago when he was 15 and just out of school. Back in the 1970s and 1980s farming was tight, and shearing was one job he could secure.
‘‘If you go back 30 years there were a lot of ruralbased open teams made up of farmers’ sons who could make a living without having to travel more than 15 miles from home. Most sheep farms were on a smaller scale, maybe 150 to 2000 ewes but these farms have changed into dairy, especially anything on flat land.’’
He agrees with Barrowcliffe that people don’t want a physically hard job that hasn’t changed fundamentally in 120 years.
‘‘And it’s difficult for a young guy starting out in the industry. It can take three or four years to become a good shearer and then there is a $5000 to $10,000 outlay in cutters, combs, a grinder and handpieces.
‘‘On the other hand, they can go into dairy where the farmer provides wet-weather gear, a house, power and phone.’’
Shearing is tough to learn today, he says. Sheep are composites, twice the size they used to be.
‘‘There is also considerable travel, and in many instances the facilities in the wool sheds are substandard. There’s still sheds without hot water or toilets. And the presser may have to use an antiquated machine, and pen up [sheep] in a poorly designed shed.’’
Many shearers are drawn to Australia and other sheep-breeding countries for better money, McConachie says. This despite a 30 per cent rise in wool industry pay from August. Shearers now get $2 per sheep, up from $1.50.
‘‘This will help, but we’re still losing a lot of staff to Australia [where shearers are paid A$3 (NZ$3.14) per sheep].
‘‘Their rate of pay has traditionally been much higher than ours, and they don’t work weekends, which can be a big thing for people looking to lead a more balanced lifestyle.’’
McConachie says it’s not uncommon for shearers to spend four to six months working overseas each year.
‘‘You could leave in early May and go to the UK and finish in August then head to Australia until Christmas.
‘‘For a young person who wants to learn a skill, who loves hard work and wants to see the world, shearing is a great option and a great life.
‘‘We can take a kid who doesn’t want to do NCEA and within three years, if he can shear a realistic tally (40,000 sheep a year) he can be earning $90,000 a year. Within 10 years home ownership is an option.
‘‘An experienced shearer can be earning $150,000 a year.’’
But the fundamental problem with the industry is that young people don’t see it as a viable longterm option, he says.
‘‘If we can’t support and mentor or provide education and training they are going to say ‘do I want to be in an industry that doesn’t even have a training system’?’’
Increasingly the answer is no.
‘‘We’ve been paying coins and Australia has been waving dollars around.’’ Mark Barrowcliffe, president, New Zealand Shearing Contractors Association