November 29, 2010

Northumberland sheep husbandry - shelters, stells and keb hooses

By Donald Clegg

2010 blizzard at Emblehope.
Photo by Helen Brown while helping to get the flock to lower ground.

(Helen Brown copyright)


Sheep shelters
All over the moors and fells of the North of England and southern Scotland, there are strange dry-stone structures, now abandoned , moss-covered and ruinous in the most part, which have intrigued visitors to this Border region for decades as they explore its magic landscape.


Some of these structures are simply short runs of dry-stone wall, some straight, some curved or ‘L’ shaped and some more complicated in the form of a cross. Seldom more than 20 yards long in any direction, they would seem to serve no practical purpose, being very often in the ‘middle of nowhere’, and far from human habitation.

Their isolation gives us the first clue to their use. Until fairly recently, before thousands of acres of our Border uplands were given over to forestry, sheep and sheep farming dominated the heathery and grassy slopes of the Cheviots in Northumberland, the Lakeland fells and the Scottish lowlands.

The farm house was usually situated in the lower valley and the shepherds’ cottages in the upper reaches or ’hopes’. Hence names like Whickhope, Hedgehope, Blakhope or Ramshope, etc. The shepherds worked largely unsupervised and in isolation from the boss for weeks at a time and met together only at the seasonal ‘gatherings’ for dipping, clipping, dosing, spaening (weaning) lambs and taking then or draught (aged) yowes to the mart to be sold on.

During winter, on these high exposed fells, heavy snowfalls would force the sheep to seek shelter in any slack or hollow that they could find. As a result, many would become buried – sometimes for days or even weeks, before the shepherd could locate them and dig them out.


This is where these stone wall shelters came in. They were built in specific locations so that in severe weather, they were the preferred rendezvous points for storm-lashed sheep. If they became buried behind their shelter wall, at least the heord (shepherd) knew where to look first.

Most walls were placed to offer shelter from the prevailing Westerly winds but some, in crescent or cross shape, provided shelter from winds and weather coming from almost any direction. Long since sheep were supplanted by conifers, many a weary walker has been grateful for the respite from the elements offered by these long-neglected walls.

Stells

2010 blizzard at Ottercops.
Photo by Helen Brown while helping to get the flock to lower ground.

(Helen Brown copyright)


Stells are almost as common as stone wall shelters. According to Wikipedia, the word ‘stell’ simply means ‘a pen for enclosing animals’, but doesn’t explain where the word comes from. For countless years it has been, and still is in common use throughout the Border regions of Scotland and England, and I suspect it is of Scandinavian or Norse origin, though I haven’t been able to verify this – perhaps you can.



By and large, stells are circular, perhaps 30 feet (10m) in diameter and the walls are 4 feet six inches (1.5m) high, built as dry-stone walls without mortar. Other stells are rectangular, in the, in the same proporitoin and material and soem hve one side of the rectangle extended to provide additional shelter for sheep that don't want to go inside.

All these enclosures, whether round or oblong had a narrow entrance closed by a small wooden gate or wicket, or more often by a simple chestnut hurdle.

The purpose of the stell was to provide the shepherd with a place to hold a few sheep at a time when some emergency first aid was needed, treating footrot, removing dags (clarts) from their rear ends, as well as treating them to prevent blowfly maggots (maaks) eating them alive when summer came. Doing these jobs out on the hill saved the time-consuming job of having to drive sheep needing treatment, maybe a couple of miles or more, down to the pens at the farm for treatment.

Although many stell are found on the higher slopes of the fells, most of them are built near a burn, partly because it's useful to have ready access to water for mixing medicines and potions, but also a burnside location is likely to be less exposed than higher up on the hill.

In winter, the stell could be used as a convenient store for a few day's supply of hay, avoiding the daily journeys of carrying hay from the farm for the sheep out on the hill. In the days before motor bikes, hay had to be carried on the shepherd's back, pony or sledge.

So stells were multi-purpose structures - providing shelter, administering first aid, holding sick sheep till they recovered to list just a few. In this day and age we can add emergency shelter for lost hill walkers where they can be easily found.

Keb Hoose

Keb hoose with 'the Beacon' hill in the background


I have been unable to discover the origin of the word ‘keb’ but it is a commonly used word in a Border shepherd’s vocabulary even today.

A ewe which has had a still-born lamb is said to have ‘kebbed’, and the dead lamb is referred to as a ‘keb’. You used to hear the term ' a kebbit yowe'. It follows then, that the keb hoose was mainly concerned with dealing with these occasions of lamb mortality out in the field (literally) or, more likely, up on the hill and so the keb hoose’s principal function was to act as an emergency first aid station.

A ewe that has kebbed naturally has lots of milk but has no lamb; whereas there could be ewe with two or more lambs and only enough milk for one. Solution – let the kebbed ewe ‘adopt’ one of the twins or perhaps an orphan lamb that has lost its mother.

Keb Hoose up the Lewis burn


This was often easier said than done as a ewe recognises its own by its scent and will not readily accept a strange lamb and will even butt it repeatedly to prevent it from suckling. To get over this problem the heord would skin the dead lamb, and fit the skin over the orphan to trick the ewe into thinking this it was her own lamb.

Another ploy was to smother the strange lamb with a mixture of oatmeal and milk so that, by the time the ewe had licked it all off she’d convinced herself that this was indeed her own. These tricks usually worked quite readily but, in awkward cases, could take days of patience, interjected with a few well chosen expletives and dire threats to the yowe's life!

The old shepherd's even used to try whisky, but soon realised that it was a terrible waste and it did them more good than the mothering on process.

In more modern times a whole list of fancy deodorants became available to rub on the lamb and up the ewe's nostrils. They worked on ewes that had good mothering instincts, driven by having plenty of milk.
Keb hoose (left) and Shepherd's hut on Hareshaw common

The keb hoose was, and still is, a sturdy, rectangular stone ‘house’, complete with door, small window and either slate or ‘tin’ (corrugated iron) roof. It would measure roughly 12ft x 9ft (3.5m x 2.8m) and was built with mortar between the stones to make it weather proof.

Inside it may have an earth floor or be flagged or cobbled with stones from the nearby burn. In one corner there is often a small fire place and a chimney through the roof – useful for heating up the tar pot for marking a sheep or water to wash a wound or make the herd’s tea.

There would be at least one shelf and even a rough cupboard. Thus the keb hoose was fully equipped to administer first aid to the flock as required, to provide a welcome shelter for the herd in rough weather (and a fire in winter), and act as a useful store place for a wide assortment of shepherding equipment. Quite often it would have so many accumulated ‘essentials’ that there was hardly enough room for the herd!

Among the variety of things stored within its cosy walls you would be likely to find anything from an empty tin of Cooper’s dip to an old clay pipe, from a pair of rusty shears to a milking stool. This list comes from a keb hoose near Saughtree, just over the Scottish Border from Kielder.

It contained several empty buckets, holed and handle- less; a heap of mouldy sacking; a tangle of binder twine; assorted walking sticks, with or without the regulation crook; a tar pot and a collection of stirring sticks; a selection of brands for horn burning; two pairs of rusty shears; a short length of cow chain; a small pile of damp logs, a pail of wet coal, a paraffin tin (empty) and a poker.

Old coats and jackets full of rips and holes, but may yet turn a bit of hill drizzle; a row of bottles on the shelf containing who knows what selection of magic cures, drenches and tonics; a tin of Hilston’s foot rot ointment; an old paring knife that trimmed its last sheep’s foot twenty years ago; a pair of wellies, missing one left boot; a draining spade minus its shank; assorted empty beer bottles; one oilskin legging, ripped, and above the fireplace, a battered tin kettle, a mouldy teacup and a very cracked and tannin encrusted teapot.

The cracked and uneven concrete floor was layered with generations of mud from countless booted feet and drifts of bracken and grass blown under the ill-fitting door, adorned of course with the inevitable horse shoe. The whole place had a wonderful nostalgic whiff of Cooper's dip, disinfectant (Jey's fluid), wet wool, wet dogs, soot and wood smoke that brought back memories of long days of sheep gatherings, of days clipping and dipping, warm ones and wintry ones but most of all happy ones.

General purpose hut at High Green that could be used as a keb hoose

November 1, 2010

Wool - has it a future? Prince Charles to the rescue!

By Dr Clive Dalton

‘Farmer Prince Charles’ and ‘Farmer King George III’
Prince Charles was once reported as saying that King George III (‘Farmer George’) was a favourite ancestor and he had done a lot of research on him. George III was famous for promoting English textile prosperity by bringing in superfine Spanish Merinos (by fair means and foul), from where he spread them to Australia and North America.

See H.B. Carter (http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=5563327546075276103&postID=6172011363920526286).

So we should not be surprised to see that Prince Charles is determined to help the struggling British wool industry. ‘Good on him’ is our Kiwi response.

A canny lad
For those of us living in the far reaches of the former British Empire, and who still recognise the Queen as our Head of State (for how much longer we're not sure), and who are very concerned about the future of sheep and wool, we currently think that Prince Charles is a ‘good joker’ because he's trying to do something about promoting British wool! His favourite ancestor would have been proud of him.

In Northumbrian terms he’s a ‘canny lad’, and although he’s had his ups and doons in recent years, his actions over trying to save British wool has been well noted in New Zealand – and we are all behind his actions.

He and I share the same birthday (Nov 14), which is also the day the tups are set away to the hill in the North Tyne. And his other great quality (in Northumbrian eyes) is that he’s the patron of the Border Stick Dressers’ Association, and was instrumental in getting the daft EU regulation to incinerate all rams’ horns and heeds (because of BSE) hoyed oot.

His concern for wool
The Prince’s concern for British wool drove our NZ Minister of Agriculture (Mr David Carter) to call in for a cup of tea and a bit crack with him at Balmoral in Scotland on a recent trip to `Europe. They talked about the UK's 'Campaign for Wool' of which the Prince is patron.

The press release said:
'The Prince of Wales is a champion of the efforts of Commonwealth farmers to grow wool and restore profitability to the sector, and this was a significant opportunity to discuss increasing the demand for wool, recognising its qualities as a naturally renewable and sustainable product' Mr Carter said.

He also said that the Prince's campaign mirrors the New Zealand government's efforts to get our strong wool industry back on track. His Royal Highness is a passionate advocate for wool and was keen to hear of NZ efforts to ensure consumers understand the benefits of this wonderful and sustainable fibre'.

NZ Minister of Agriculture (David Carter) and the
Prince of Walesat Balmoral
2010
(Both wearing wool!)

If the Prince can do anything to help the noble fibre keep a foothold in the world’s textile industry, then he deserves to be made King straight away and he’d be welcome to come and live in New Zealand and commute from here to do the rest of his Commonwealth shepherding.

Killed by synthetic fibres
The death of wool as a textile fibre started the day a chemist drew a strand out from a chemical brew in a test tube in the late 1940s - 1950s, and nylon was born. The rest is history, and their massive research and development by international companies like Dupont and ICI has never stopped, first mimicking the unique qualities of wool, and then improving on them.

Wool never had a chance, and many believe it’s a waste of time trying to compete with the massive multinationals in the synthetic fibre business. Wool currently only occupies 1.5% of the textile fibre market.

But thankfully, there are believers like Prince Charles, supported by wool growers in Australia, New Zealand, South America and South Africa to name just a few.

It’s all about price, and clothing, carpets and furnishings made from synthetic fibres will always be cheaper, especially when mass-produced in countries where labour costs are low. Sheep farmers have to find customers who will pay for the benefits (real or perceived) of wearing and walking on ‘natural fibres’; sadly there are not a lot left in the world.

Wool and fashion
Sheep farmers and wool enthusiasts live in hope that in the weird world of ‘fashion’, among the outrageous rags that appear on walking skeletons wobbling their way down catwalks, some designer will feature the magic of wool! It happens now and again, but like everything in the fashion world, it's always short lived.

We all used to hope that another ‘oil shock’ would increase the price of synthetic fibres, which are all born as fossil fuels, and allow natural fibres a comeback. It never happened; it just made the chemists and manufacturers smarter and more efficient.

The carpet industry is the main end-user of the world’s coarse wools (fibre diameter above 30 microns), such as those grown in New Zealand from our Romney sheep. These are in direct contrast to the fine wools from Merino sheep and their crosses which are used for high quality clothing (fibre diameter around 20 microns).

Before the advent of synthetic fibres, the best thing that could happen to wool was to have a war in a cold climate. We Northumbrian Daft Laddies on farms in the 1950s well remember wearing the WWII ex-army tunics, trousers and especially the greatcoats, which were certainly warm but weighed a ton. Modern armies wear synthetic fibres regardless of the climate they work in.

The Korean war was the last such event when wool was King again, and it's said that Australian wool growers were buying Rolls Royce cars as farm vehicles to use up the money. The ‘Rollers’ were very reliable and there was plenty of room in the back for the dogs and a few sick sheep. You got a pound Sterling for a pound of wool in New Zealand at that time.

Wool marketing shambles

The start of wool's journey - newly-shorn coarse wool
Border Leicester ram fleece.


History has shown some awful examples of bad marketing, resulting in stockpiles of wool around the world, and especially in Australia and New Zealand where governments bought the wool at auction to keep the price up. They then had to hold it for years, releasing it on to the market in dribs and drabs to get their money back. They will never do this again. Farmers will have to meet the market.

The overseas buyers knew where all the wool was, so they only bought what they wanted, and didn’t have the cost of buying forward and storing it, as happens when prices are volatile and in short supply. Wool is a bulky product so needs space and cost to store.

Countries pulled out of international marketing organisations like the International Wool Secretariat (IWS) with the “Woolmark” as it’s famous world-recognised logo. For a while nothing bad happened, but now the years without promotion of wool have come to account. Wool has no international image any more.

The best example of this is the recent campaign by New Zealand farmers to inform American architects (by bringing them here to show them wool being grown and harvested), and that it’s ideal for carpeting high-rise buildings. Wool doesn't burn like synthetic fibres and this basic fact had been missing from their building codes. Hopefully they have now got the message.

Costs from sheep to shop

Costs of production have killed wool and they seem set to continue. Here are a few reasons:
  • Wool varies enormously over the sheep’s body, so has to be sorted by hand, and the easiest place to do this is when it first comes off the sheep on the shearing board.
  • A wool fibre varies along its diameter with the feeding level of the sheep. This can cause 'tenderness' or 'wool break' and in the worst cases (and see in primitive breeds), the woll breaks and is shed.
  • The finest of all wool fibres are described as 'hunger-fine' wools, grown when sheep were suffering starvation. These wools can be around 10 microns in diameter and individual fibres are hard to see with the naked eye.
  • The skill of ‘wool handling’ (along with shearing) has improved out of sight in recent decades, as a result of local and international competitions around the world.
  • The return from the wool harvested in most countries over the last few years, has hardly covered the costs of shearing and handling.
Research continues to take the human effort out of shearing.
Robotics and chemical defleecing are still being worked on.
(Ian McMillan in veterens' demonstration shearing)

  • As wool grows on the sheep in the wide-open spaces of the world, all sorts of things can get mixed up in the fleece, which in processing stage have to be removed. Plant material and weed seeds are the best examples.
Plant material in belly wool - costly to remove
  • Classic examples are the New Zealand ‘Bidibid’ (Acaena inermis) and the Australian Bathurst Bur (Xanthimum spinosum) and the Scottish heather (Caluna vulgaris). New Zealand Bidibid travelled with wool to the mills in southern Scotland, then down the Tweed into the North Sea on to the Farne Islands where it is a hazard to young fledgling seabirds.
  • Wool is a bulky product and there’s a limit on how it can be compressed for transport around the world. Cheap transport moves slowly and there has been talk recently of using wind power to move ships carrying wool – back to the old ‘Clipper’ days to avoid the cost and carbon footprint of power by fossil fuels.

Wool pressed into bales in the woolshed after being trucked to the merchant.
For export these are 'double dumped' - two pressed into the space taken up by one bale

  • Weight and bulk can be reduced by scouring (washing) in the country of origin, and this also has the advantage of leaving the pollution behind.
  • Farmers are also directed not to dip sheep for at least 60 days before shearing to avoid pollution during scouring.
  • The wool handling chain is better now that 30 years ago but it’s still full of fragmentation with too many people competing and ‘clipping tickets’ as the wool moves from farm to processor. Wool goes from the farm to a merchant who may sort it further (more than in the woolshed), and then it’s shipped to mills across the world.
  • Then there’s all the handling at the processor’s end to get it to the clothing or carpet manufacturer. It’s just goes on and on with more ticket clipping on the way.
NZ Wool merchant sorting wool purchased direct from farmers.
This is labour intensive and costly.
From here it is baled and shipped to
processors around the world
.

Old direct marketing
It’s amazing now to remember the days when the North Tyne fells were alive with sheep before the forests banished them.

(See http://woolshed1.blogspot.com/2008/10/daft-laddies-lost-farms-of-tyne-rede.html).

The late Willie Robson told of when their family were at Willow Bog, they sent their wool direct to Otterburn Mill to be made into tweed to cloth the family. What a wonderful example of direct marketing! Small offcuts were even used to ‘breek the hoggs’ – washing them after every season so nowt was wasted.

Ignorance & complacency
Tar branding
For generations, the marking of sheep to record their farm of origin was done with tar. It was totally weatherproof and had a very long life on the wool. The trouble was it couldn’t be scoured out and small specks of it could do enormous damage to textile machinery. It took the British Wool Marketing Board (BWMB) around half a century to get farmers to appreciate this and take action.

I remember going to Henry Bell’s wool store in Hexham while a student at Kings College in the 1950s and getting 'the tar message' from the wool classer who was sorting wool from farms that had just been packed into bales with no preparation done on the farm,other than rolling the fleece. Tar branding had a long slow death and it was the financial penalty that drove it.

Bloom dipping
When I was a Daft Laddie on North Tyne farms in the 1950s, we ‘larned’ the art of ‘blooming sheep’ for sale and show, and the practice must have gone on for many decades before that. In the early days farmers used the natural earths and peat before modern’ pigments were available, heavily promoted by ‘the dip man’ or the Northern Farmers rep when he called to get the yearly order.

I remember as students at Kings College going to the famous Border Leicester stud at Rock in the north of Northumberland and seeing tups being prepared for the Kelso sale. They varied in hue from bright orange through yellow to pink. I felt sorry for the tups – they themselves must have felt stupid entering the sale ring. There was never any logic in the practice, but fashion is fashion and defies logic.

I used to joke about what a yowe on heat must have thought when she looked around to see a bright yellow or orange creature creeping up on her from behind!

Helen Brown’s Tarset blog ( "http://blog.tarset.co.uk/" http://blog.tarset.co.uk/) gives a very clear explanation of the reasons for blooming sheep in UK.

I cannot believe that it still goes on, and that the buyers of sheep are so daft as to see value in it. Sheep farmers wouldn’t do it if there wasn’t financial benefit. Apparently it's all about making sheep look 'even' and 'healthy'.




Sheep at a local show illustrating the modern range of fashionable colours
(Photo by kind permission of Helen Brown).

The poor yellow sheep in this pen looks embarrassed! The bloomed ones will probably think the white one is odd! Apparently brown is the most popular choice at present.

Blooming sheep has been on the hit list of the BWMB for decades but from what Helen Brown says – it’s had little effect. Farmers clearly don’t understand that the dying of wool fibres should be decided by the textile manufacturer, and not by the shepherd! You can’t make contaminated wool lighter – you can only make it darker.

Herdwick sheep - their natural colour. Popular for home crafts.

Bloom dipping reached New Zealand and was used sporadically till the 1950s. But it died a rapid death when price penalties made farmers appreciate the costs it was adding to marketing and processing. Financial penalties are they way to fix things, and clearly price differentials have never had any effect in UK.

First job for Prince Charles

So there’s the first job for Prince Charles – to banish bloom dipping. We sheep and wool enthusiasts in New Zealand wish him well as it looks an uphill battle.

It's easy to ask when wool is worth so little, why bother trying to prepare it better for the manufacturer? The answer to that is that if you want to sell it at all, rather than putting it into landfill, good preparation is more important than ever.

Old 'Daft Laddie' keeps his hand in
Sixty years after my first battle with a sheep to part it from its fleece, I remove the wool from a Border Leicester ram using the 'North Tyne' 'clipping' (shearing) method, where the sheep is held on its side for most of the action - especially effective for large rams. This way of clipping provides plenty of opportunity to stop and chat to fellow clippers and 'hangers on' that the event always seemed to attract - many of them with an eagle eye looking for skin cuts!

The author versus Border Leicester ram 'William'