Babette Wils of Bigfoot Food Forest in Montague initially obtained sheep for land management and soil improvement. “We prefer to have sheep, rather than machinery, mow our orchard,” said Wils. “Our farm is very quiet; the only machines we use are electric hand tools. The noisiest thing here is the dog barking, or occasionally a chainsaw when we cut down small trees for mushroom logs.” (One of the many things going on at Bigfoot is mushroom cultivation.)
While visiting last year to hear tips about growing three sisters’ crops (corn, beans, and squash), I asked Wils about one element of the 36-acre farm she stewards with her husband, Mark Somerville. As I surveyed their chickens, sheep, trees, crops, and other projects, I asked about the steps involved in processing wool. Wils replied: “That’s a whole other interview.” The day has finally come, dear readers, to hear about how Wils transforms the woolly output of fuzzy friends into beautiful products ready for knitting, crocheting, and other crafts.
“Sheep are amazingly gentle creatures,” said Wils, “and one important thing they do is to help shepherds become better people. When the sheep come up to us in the pasture, you can tell they’re happy to be there. Their presence makes me feel grounded and calm, and they can provide so much, including wool, milk, meat, land management, and improved soil health.” Wils added that her family doesn’t raise sheep for meat: “It’s not that we’re vegetarians, but it’s just a whole other thing.”
Wils explained that “sheep are good for the land if you rotate them (throughout various areas). Orchardists allow sheep to graze among fruit trees, because they not only keep the grass mowed, they also fertilize the land.” This win-win scenario has been used for centuries and is making a comeback with farmers concerned about environmentally sound practices. Sheep are also good for pest management, said Wils. “They eat fruit drops infested with insects, which can help decrease populations of pests harmful to fruit crops.” Although she doesn’t raise sheep for meat, Wils sometimes sells lambs to homesteaders who wish to raise them for meat, or to people who enjoy having them as pets. Wils chooses breeds that make great pets and are valuable in small homestead flocks: “We raise Shetlands, Santa Cruz, and Baby Dolls; the Baby Dolls are like the Labradors of sheep.” (Labrador Retriever dogs are known for being energetic, friendly, and intelligent.)
When I arrived for our interview, Wils invited me to join her at a large table, on which was spread what looked like a sheepskin. Upon closer inspection, I saw it was missing the skin part. “A sheepskin is what you get when a sheep is slaughtered,” said Wils. “This is a fleece.” Touching the fleece coated my hands in lanolin; the tactile experience put me in a state of reverie. But I snapped to attention when Wils said, “Let’s skirt this fleece.” She deftly worked around the edges, picking off the outermost layer and depositing handfuls of dingy wool into a container. “We’re taking off the messiest stuff,” she said. Next, we removed detritus from one side of the fleece: mud balls, twigs, and other stuff picked up while hanging around the pasture. After finishing one side, Wils flipped the fleece over to reveal what had been the exterior, which of course was much dirtier. After several minutes of careful attention, a neat-looking fleece remained.
“Next,” said Wils, “it gets washed.” There are several ways to clean raw wool, with varying degrees of lanolin retention. The lowest-tech strategy is to soak the wool in a suint bath for days or weeks. “That can really stink,” said Wils, “but it preserves lanolin content.” Suint, also known as sheep sweat, works in concert with natural bacteria and other microorganisms to break down the sweat and lanolin, effectively cleaning the wool. “It really works,” said Wils. The fleece can instead be washed in cold water using a special soap. Wils uses Orvus soap, a water activated paste. “You can also use Eucalan unscented wool soap, which is designed for delicates,” said Wils, “and that stuff doesn’t need to be rinsed out.” A fleece washed in hot water loses its lanolin, an advantage when sending raw wool to a mill. “Machines get gummed up by high lanolin content,” said Wils. “Also, a lot of people don’t like the feeling of wool clothing with a lot of lanolin, but traditionally, the Irish left the lanolin in to make their sweaters waterproof.”
Washed wool is ready to card by hand or by sending it to a mill. “I try to avoid expensive machines or using a mill,” said Wils, “because I’m attracted to Iron Age technology. I use processes and tools used by people who lived five to ten thousand years ago.” Wils shared a fun fact: “Most breeds of sheep? Their wool keeps growing, like hair on a human. That means sheep must be shorn.” What about wild sheep, though? “In the spring, the wool of wild sheep thins and breaks, and they can rub it off. But domesticated sheep are another story.” Wils recounted the story of a New Zealand sheep that went missing and somehow survived in the wild until it was recovered. “That sheep had eighty pounds of wool when they found it. It was badly in need of a shearing.”
Wils described wool processing by hand as “super tactile. I love it. And the whole process results in very little waste. You can compost it or use it as mulch. It contains lots of nitrogen.” To check out wool processing and Wils’ other projects, visit bigfootfoodforest.com. And tune in next week for part two of this feature, when we’ll visit Rachel Haas and Matt Kaminsky–and their woolly friends–at Meadowfed Farm in Hadley.
Eveline MacDougall is the author of “Fiery Hope” and can be reached at eveline@amandlachorus.org.