A Shearer's Tale.

 

ARNIE Y

IE YA A Shearer’s Tale

Arnie scooped up the last of the leaves from the pool. He walked across the yard  and placed the scoop against the small  shed. He was followed by Lambchop, the pet sheep. Arnie had acquired Lambchop about ten years ago, the same time that he and Ella had started acquiring grandchildren.           

The backyard pool was also acquired to entertain his two daughters and their families, which now extended to six grandchildren. Lambchop was a firm favourite with the grandies. Lambchop was also very good at keeping the grass in check around the pool which was in a fenced off area in the end bottom third of the  half acre block.

Arnie was 84 years old. He used to be a shearer. A very good shearer. His father was a shearer as were his three brothers. When Arnie left school, he naturally became a shearer, too. Arnie worked in shearing sheds throughout Western Australia. When he was fifty-nine, Arnie’s back and right wrist told him it was time to give the shearing game away. Within a few weeks he was working for the shire as the groundsman for the local bowling and tennis club. He really  enjoyed that work and was given a big send-off by the bowlers and tennis players, and the local councillors, when he decided fifteen years later that working five full days a week at age 76 was a bit too much.

A few weeks later Arnie and Ella picked up what he called a ‘dream “ job. They worked for the local abattoir, washing the workers blood-stained  clothes in industrial washing and drying machines and then using a pressure hose to clean the entire work area. They used to start at four o’clock in the afternoon and be finished by 6-00PM. Before they headed home, they folded the clean dry clothes laid out clean work clothes to be used the next day.

When he walked into the kitchen, Ella said, “Hello, Love. I’ve just put the kettle on.” Arnie picked up his copy of the morning paper and sat in his lounge chair waiting for the tea to arrive. He was halfway through reading the paper when the telephone rang in the kitchen . Ella called out, “Arnie, it’s Joy, from next door. She wants to talk to you.”

Joy told Arnie that a young fellow was shearing sheep in the next street. In South Guildford quite a few residents had sheep to keep the grass under control in their large blocks.

“Yes, Arne,’ said Joy, “he’s got his utility with shearing gear rigged up. When I saw him about twenty minutes ago, he had three customers lined up. I think he shears the sheep for nothing if he can keep the fleece. I thought you might want to take Lambchop along.”

When Arnie first got Lambchop he used to shear him once a year with hand shears. However, his aching right wrist made that an increasingly painful job. So, Arnie placed a rope around Lambnchops neck and off they set to walk the hundred and fifty meters or so to meet the enterprising young shearer.

As Arnie rounded the corner, he saw the shearer and his ute. He was shearing a sheep while two ladies stood nearby with their woolly pets. Arnie joined the queue. He watched the young fellow as he went about his job and his mind wandered back to his days on the boards and of the thousands and thousands of sheep he had shorn. He even remembered being at the Royal Show doing exhibitions shearing back in the fifties.

When it was Lambchops turn to be shorn Arnie said, “Hey, young fellah. I’ve been watching you shearing these sheep. Could I have a go at shearing my own sheep”

The young bloke looked at Arnie and looked at Lambchop. “ Ah. Erm. I dunno! Do you reckon you can handle it? It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Well,” said Arnie, “what if I start off. If  I’m no good you can always stop me and take over.”

“Yair, I suppose that’ll be OK,” was his dubious reply.

Arnie took hold of the shears. He quickly pulled Lambchop between his legs and began sweeping long blows that had the fleece peeling off like the skin off a banana. In just under two minutes Lambchop was well and truly fleeced and Arnie was handing the shearing piece back to the young shearer.

“Hey, Mate!”, he exclaimed, “You’re really good. D’yuh wanna a job?”

Arnie placed  the rope over lambchop's neck. As he walked away, he smiled and said, “No, thanks, Mate.  I’ve already got a job.”