From Sheep To Shawl: Women Pass Down Tradition Of Shearing And Working With Wool

Spinning and weaving are traditions that have been handed down for generations — usually among women. But it doesn’t just begin with the wool. It starts with raising the sheep.

If you’ve ever tried to shear a sheep, you know it takes some practice. Margaret Bruning describes it philosophically.

“Somebody’s going to get cut, either me or the sheep or both of us and I’m gonna sweat my guts out. The sheep’s going to be upside down a lot, she’s not going to be that comfortable and I’m not really very proficient so it’s going to look kinda awkward…it’ll be okay.”

Bruning laughed as she shared that bit of tongue-in-cheek wisdom. It’s just one of the hard lessons she’s learned raising sheep.

Time For A Change

Five years ago, Bruning and her husband David were living in Los Angeles, California. But they were tired of the city. So, they sold most of their stuff, packed up what was left and traveled the country — working on organic farms along the way. They finally stopped in rural West Virginia which she compares to the Wild West without being west of the Mississippi.

Bruning isn’t a novice when it comes to farming. She actually grew up on a goat farm in mostly rural dairy country in upstate New York. But she didn’t know a lot about raising sheep. That’s something she’s learning from Kathy Evans… one of the owners of Evans Knob Farm in Preston County, West Virginia.
“We’re living on my husband’s family farm,” said Evans. “It’s been in the family for…well, my grandchildren will be the sixth generation that’s been on this farm.”

And within a year of buying their own farm in Randolph County, West Virginia, Bruning and her husband suddenly became the owners of a small flock of grey and black Romanov sheep.

“And I’ve been stumbling through,” said Bruning. “A lot of it’s been very hard lessons — how to keep them healthy, the right decisions to make with tiny newborn lambs.”

Nearly 20 percent of newborns die before they’re weaned, usually in the first 10 days of life.

Margaret’s Mentor

So Bruning has turned to Evans for all kinds of advice — everything from tending her flock to managing budgets.

“That’s Kathy. She’s a seasoned market gardener/farmer, her head is full of a lot of stuff. Me, I have made my sheep almost into my friends and I probably shouldn’t do that. And whenever I need to toughen up, I think about Kathy. I think that she would just buck up, and that’s what she’s coached me on.”

Another thing Evan’s coached her on? Sheep shearing.

Heather Niday
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Kathy’s wool stockings made from left over wool scraps.

Normally, you’re bent over the animal, holding it with one hand while shearing the fleece with the other. It’s awkward. And it’s physically hard. But Kathy taught her a technique that requires less upper body strength.

“We take them from standing on all fours to sitting on their butt and we cradle them between our legs,” said Evans. So, she watched that step, she helped me get the sheep set up and then watched me do the shearing and she trimmed hooves.”

Those lessons are part of a master apprentice program that Evans and Bruning are working on together called Sheep to Shawl. Shearing is just one step.

The fleece has to be washed and dried, then combed and carded before it’s ready for the spinning wheel.

Evans describes the motion.

“Your hands are doing one thing, and your foot’s doing another thing. So, I’m controlling the diameter of the yarn and the number of times it twists with my right hand and my left hand is doing a process called drafting, so I’m pulling the fiber back so that there’s not like a great big clump that goes through at once.”

Once the spinning is done, Evans winds the yarn into one large loop until she has a full skein. Then she dips it in hot water to set the twist of the yarn and hangs it to dry. Then it’s ready for knitting, crocheting or weaving on a loom like the one in Evan’s studio.

These are the tools and techniques Evans is passing along to Bruning through their apprenticeship. But it goes beyond that.

“Margaret and I were already friends before we did this, but just to strengthen that through this process and she knows I am here anytime she needs me.”

A Friend In Times of Need

Evans demonstrated that on a night not long ago. One of Bruning’s ewes was struggling to give birth. She was afraid they would lose the mother and lamb. So, she called Evans.

“David and I are both like pulling as hard as we could pull…”

And Evans could tell they had to act quickly.

Heather Niday
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Dyed wool drying in Kathy Evans studio.

“I knew exactly what they were facing. I could picture in my mind what was happening and what they needed to do.”

“Kathy just put everything down and she spent an hour on the phone with us.”

Evans was deeply encouraging, coaching with just the right tone.
“And it was like Margaret, you can do this, just encouraging her, you CAN do this. Take a deep breath, give David the phone, we can do this together. Cause I’m thinking I’m two and a half hours away from her, I can’t get to her in time to save this lamb and ewe. She has got to trust me and do what I tell her to do or we’re going to lose both of them. I walked her through the process, we had a beautiful ram lamb, she saved the ewe. She said ‘we did it’ and I said of course we did it!”

Bruning was grateful for the guidance Evans provided throughout the difficult birth.

“I felt this real true confidence having her by my side.”

Evans knew that losing either animal that night would have been devastating for Bruning.

The sheep had belonged to Bruning’s mother. She left the flock to Bruning when she passed away a few years ago. And it hadn’t been that long since her mother passed.

“It’s a grieving process that takes as long as it takes,” said Evans. As long as that original flock of sheep is with Margaret, she still has a piece of her mom.”

Bruning is grateful for Evans and her wisdom. She sees her partnership with Evans as a continuation of the traditions of so many women before her. And it’s also a tribute to her mother and the legacy she passed on to her.

“She possesses those qualities that my mom has and she utilizes those qualities and she’s been so kind towards me and very, very patient.”

For more information on the West Virginia Folklife Program, visit their website.

This story is part of the Inside Appalachia Folkways Reporting Project, a partnership with West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s Inside Appalachia and the Folklife Program of the West Virginia Humanities Council. The Folkways Reporting Project is made possible in part with support from Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies to the West Virginia Public Broadcasting Foundation. Subscribe to the podcast to hear more stories of Appalachian folklife, arts, and culture.

One of West Virginia's Last Sheep Shearers Reflects on His 64 Year Career

There are 100,000 less sheep in the state of West Virginia today than during the 1970’s. Now, there are 36,000 sheep in the state. The demand for synthetic fibers over wool for our clothes and blankets is one reason for the sharp decline. One man from Upshur County is about to hang up his shears. After sheep shearing for 64 years, Calvin McCutcheon says he will retire next year.

At just under 80 years old, Calvin McCutcheon looks like a bodybuilder. His thick stocky torso is bent over while he wrangles a full grown sheep, trying to get it to lay still and stop thrashing.

But this is nothing- McCutcheon holds the state record for shearing 300 sheep in one day.

Sheep at Sam Cunningham’s farm in Beverly, West Virginia

He began shearing when he was a teenager. At a 4-H Farm in Spencer, someone with WVU Extension offered to teach him.

“And as a cocky 14-year-old I climbed down off the fence and said  “I’ll try anything once. I’ve sheared a 100,000 sheep since then.”

At 23 years old, he was determined to step away from the shearing business and become a Methodist pastor.

“But the best sheep shearer in the 10 county area lost his arm to a corn picker the fall before. So he got his arm cut off. He couldn’t shear sheep any more. And they were hurting. I sheared 1,200 sheep right there in that area.”

And so, McCutcheon picked his clippers back up and became a sheep shearing preacher.

He prepares for the spring shearing season almost like an athlete- he goes to the gym about 20 days a month, working to strengthen his shoulders and his lower back.

Beverly, West Virginia. This field is down the street from Sam Cunningham’s farm on Rich Mountain.

One of the farmers who hires McCutcheon to shear sheep is Sam Cunningham, who says it’s just really tough to raise sheep, and there’s not a lot of money in it. “I used to keep 75, now I keep 10 head around here just for my grandkids,” said Cunningham.

Cunningham runs the wool up to a buyer in Pendleton County, named Joe Harper. From there, it will get sold to South Carolina, where it’s carded, and then exported to woolen mills China. Most of the woolen mills in this country have gone out of business.

The view from Sam Cunningham’s farm on Rich Mountain

Farmers here in West Virginia earn less than a dollar per pound, which is hardly even a profit. Some farmers make value added craft products out of their wool, which can help turn more of a profit.  Sheeps and Peeps Farm in Aurora and The Holler Farm in Renick are two businesses that sell locally made wool crafts.

Sheep farmers earn more income selling the lambs as meat.

Even though the wool industry is on the decline, there’s still a high demand for sheep shearers because sheep farmers still try to keep the wool off their sheep’s backs to keep them clean and healthy.

But there just aren’t many people interested in learning the trade. Some farmers in West Virginia even hire people from out of state to shear their flock.

Over the years, Calvin McCutcheon has taught dozens of young people to shear sheep, but most of them quit because the physical labor is so tough.

“Well if someone wants to shear sheep, they’ve got to be willing to do hard work, learn a skill and keep at it.”

In 1955, McCutcheon won fifth place in a national contest for sheep shearing. In sheep shearing, time is important, but the way you handle the sheep and keep them comfortable and controlled is the main thing judges look for.

When he won the national award, McCutcheon was recruited by a professional shearing company to work full time out west.

“I was invited to be a part of a shearing band that would migrate from Texas to the Dakotas. I would have been able to make in 4 months times more than I made all of probably 20 years before I made that much money as a pastor.”

But instead- he decided to stay in West Virginia, and that’s where he plans to stay, even as he puts down his professional sheep shears next summer.

Although he officially retired as a Methodist preacher, he was recently asked to return as a pastor, so he’ll be continuing that work next year.

 

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