A fine fleece

Two types of fiber, side by side

Or not

When the fleece came off the ewe in March, it shone silver gray and lustrous in the sun. I was definitely tempted to take it home then and there, but I had sworn a pact to myself that I would not bring home another fleece. I said, no. 

Later, the fleece came up in a discussion among friends and one immediately offered to split it with me. The fleece came home.

Determined not to let it sit for months, I immediately scoured it using Beth Smith's Simple and Mostly Quick method. When it was dry, I set to work carding it with visions of spinning in my mind.

Gnarly black fibers

A silk purse, it isn't

Were I more experienced, I surely would have recognized the problem, but I'm not and I didn't. 

Putting it through the carder was hard. The licker filled and the drums locked. I attributed it to poor fiber prep and spent too much time going through the fleece, pulling it apart and trying to release any sticky bits with a small comb. 

And I kept trying. But even with all the prep and  four passes through the carder, there were still lots and lots of gnarly, nubby black bits. Clearly, the fleece would not be suitable for handspinning. But what is the problem?

That was when I stepped back and examined the locks very carefully. At the base of most of the locks was a snaggly clump of black fiber. It was extremely hard to separate from the locks. Pulling on a lock did not separate it. Rather, the fibers locked together and felt like wire. I didn't have the black fiber tested, but it looked and felt much coarser than the gray fiber. (Note: These were different from the dark fibers in the photo at top right.)

Gnarls in carded batt

I took photos and shared them, along with questions, with more knowledgable spinners. 

Turns out the ewe was double-coated. She shouldn't have been. But she was. And, interestingly, double-coated sheep are typically described as having a longer, coarse outer coat and a short fine undercoat. This is the exact opposite. The outer coat is long and fine and the undercoat, coarser. Some obscure, long recessive gene had clearly expressed itself. 

Now what?

I finished carding what seemed the most suitable, cutting the base of the locks with scissors. I still have gnarls throughout the batts. And I now have a lot of carded batts with gnarls. Maybe a felting project is in my future?

I didn't even try to card the coarser black fibers. But I didn't throw them away, either. More next week.

Spring rites

Sheep in queue

Sheep shearing 2016

When scheduling a shearer for an early spring shearing, a  major concern is rain. Everybody gets wet (and cold) and finding a covered place for the skirting table just adds one more planning element to an already crazy-busy day. 

But this year's March day couldn't have been better. It was a spectacular meteorological gem. Sunny, dry and cool. Just perfect.

This year there were only eight ewes to be shorn and M. and I were able to stay ahead of the shearer--if only just barely. With years of experience, Hoyt Emmons shears each sheep smoothly and efficiently. Once he is done and steps aside, the quickly haltered sheep gets personalized care and its fleece moves to the skirting table. 

Stage two: Skirting

My standing assignment is at the skirting table. You can see the table in the photo at right below. It's a large wooden frame fitted with spaced PVC pipes that roll, allowing unwanted pieces to fall through. After identifying which end is which, that is, head vs. rear, the work begins.

The sheep at Winters' Past Farm wear coats, which keeps their fleeces clean, so most of the fleece needs no special attention. But what was outside the coat--the neck and upper chest and the belly wool in particular--does. The head and neck area often has so much vegetative matter that it must be removed. The back end has its own issues, but it's a straightforward cleanup, as are the belly sections. As Kris reminds us, anything that clunks, goes.

Once skirted, the fleece is folded into thirds, rolled up, bagged and tagged. This is the first round of cleanup. Kris will meticulously skirt the fleeces again sale. 

You may recall my frustration last fall when I assumed ownership of an orphaned sale fleece that was so contaminated with excrement and vegetation that after picking through it, only a fraction of the fleece--about one and a half pounds--was usable. 

On the skirting table, outer side up.                           Skirted fleece, cut side vs. outer side on first fold

The last fleece comes off--and what a beauty!

There was some dismay, but no surprise, when one ewe's fleece had a break in her wool. She'd had a stressful winter after she added quadruplets to the flock. 

But the last sheep in queue was a beauty. Just look at that fleece!

I almost--hear that? almost!--broke my vow and bought the fleece right then and there. It is that nice. 

I don't know what was more fun to watch--the lambs or the kids at play.

Two bags full

Carding the brown fleece

What to do with mystery fleeces?

They were left over from a fleece sale in Ohio. No one claimed them and neither had any  identification except for a tag on the brown fleece labeling it 'MED.'

Hand spinners are avid shoppers and will happily spend good money on fleeces but....only when they are 1) well-skirted, 2) clean and 3) labeled by breed. One was well-skirted and clean. The other was a mess.

I started with the brown fleece--the well-skirted, clean one. The shepherd had priced the eight pound bag of medium wool at $88.

Unknown 'white' fleece fibers

I laid it out on the table and was rather dismayed to find that it didn't unroll in one piece like a well-prepared fleece does. It was in chunks, which made for an interesting jigsaw fleece puzzle. 

Next up, the white fleece. The fiber is lovely, with a long staple and fine crimp, but shame on the shepherd. It was a mess from beginning to end. Not only had it not been skirted, it was filthy. The  back end of the sheep was in the middle, which served to spread the fecal material liberally throughout the fleece. And the parts lacking black bits were heavily contaminated with vegetation. 

Only because the wool looked nice, I picked through it and  discarded about half. I ended up with two small  piles, each less than two pounds. One I labeled No. 1 as the best of the lot. The No. 2 might be usable if I can get rid of a lot of the vegetable matter.

I carded a bit of each to see how they would spin and for their felting capabilities. I spun both in the grease and both fleeces passed the tests. So neither graces the garden yet.

Scouring a filthy fleece

The lanolin-laden wash water 

My favorite fleece expert at Winter's Past Farm suggested that I might be able to clean up the more contaminated parts of the filthy white fleece with some heavy duty scouring. I did some research, specifically in The Alden Amos Big Book of Handspinning," which is a wealth of information on all things pertaining to spinning. Then I got started

Scoured fleece

I filled my roaster with 120 ℉ water and added Tide detergent and Dawn dish soap. I then added about 3/4 lb. of fleece and gently moved it back and forth. After 10 to 15 minutes, I removed it, drained the excess water and then rinsed...and rinsed...and rinsed it. 

After gently squeezing out as much water as possible, I put the fleece to dry on an upside down plastic grid storage cube.

I haven't mentioned the lanolin. I have referred to the fleece as white, but it was so laden with lanolin that it looked yellow. One hot water and detergent bath wasn't enough to get rid of all the lanolin by a long shot, but the results are significant.

The fleece is so much improved that I plan to scour the No.1 fleece sections, as well. 

I haven't decided what I'm going to do with these mystery fleeces, but when I decide, you'll be among the first to know.

Any suggestions?