Baaa-rmy for farms
When Hannah Jackson decided she wanted to be a shepherdess, she didn’t know she’d have so many challenges to overcome. Here she tell Lizzie Catt how her love of sheep and farming has transformed her life
SPORTING bright blue shell suit bottoms, spotty wellies, a shiny new jacket and flame red hair, Hannah Jackson stepped out of her Mini Cooper into the mud of an isolated Welsh sheep farm.
With hindsight, Hannah, better known on Instagram as The Red Shepherdess, acknowledges she probably looked more like a travelling hairdresser than a labourer.
But for the 20-year-old townie from the Wirral in Merseyside, who had no farming experience, securing an unpaid gig in the outer reaches of Snowdonia was a huge first step on the muddy road to her dreams.
Eight years later, Hannah is a respected shepherd with a smallholding in Cumbria whose engaging social media posts about farming life have helped earn her legions of followers. She’s a champion of British farming, was recently named Northern Sheep Farmer of the Year and has just published her autobiography, Call Me Red.
At 17, all Hannah knew was that she wanted to work with animals.
Given the nickname Dr Doolittle by her family, Hannah had a procession of creatures through her door, including fish, injured hedgehogs, birds, rabbits, dogs and cats.
She struggled with the rigid structure of her grammar school and nearly blew her exams at 16 when her grandmother Margaret died after a fall aged just 54. She rallied to complete her exams, was accepted to study for a BSc in animal behaviour and was due to start a masters in marine biology.
But after witnessing a ewe giving birth during a family holiday in the Lake District, everything changed.
“It was my lightbulb moment,” said Hannah. “I was captivated, I had to find out more. I cornered a farmer and was asking all sorts of questions. He even let me bottle feed a lamb.” Later that day, in a pub at sunset with a cider and black, a flock of sheep flooded into the village and spilled into the pub garden. For tourists, it was an unmissable photo opportunity. To Hannah, watching the sheepdogs expertly rounding up the sheep with near-telepathic direction from the farmers, it was a sign. She told her family she wanted to put her studies on hold and try to become a shepherd.
After that first job in Wales, Hannah began sheepdog training with Derek Scrimgeour and began a partnership with a collie called Fraser that would take her dream to the next level.
“He’s the best dog in the world,” said Hannah. “My nan had been saving money for me since I was little and my mum put it towards buying Fraser for my 21st birthday. He’s been my rock and best friend through these eight years.” After leaving Derek’s farm to look for contract jobs, she discovered that old-fashioned ideas about women in farming were rife. She said: “I ran around playing football and climbing trees with the boys till I was about 10 so it never really occurred to me that there was anything I shouldn’t do.” Sexism is something Hannah is determined to fight, even if it means flipping the biggest ram on his back in front of a doubting farmer. She said: “There’s this cliche that behind every good farmer is his wife but a farmer’s wife isn’t behind, she’s front and centre in helping to make the farm function.” After a stint on TV show SAS: Who Dares Wins in 2019, Hannah came home on a high, ready for her next adventure. This time, it was sheep farming on an epic scale in Australia. It was here she felt her passion for farming reignite and she returned to Brookside, the 21-acre crumbling Cumbrian farm she’d bought and was fixing up with her parents, full of ideas. There was just one piece of the puzzle missing. Hannah had suspected she had feelings for best friend Danny Gallagher, a farrier, who shoes horses. She returned to the UK to find Danny waiting at the station with a bunch of flowers. Now the pair are looking forward to getting married later this year. When they looked at the deeds of the cottage they’re buying, Hannah discovered that, until 20 years ago, it was called Red House. “Sometimes it really feels like the universe is giving you a sign,” she said. Call Me Red, by Hannah Jackson (Ebury Press, £20)
It never really occurred to me that there was anything I should not do