'I tried shearing a sheep with world champion - I nearly lost a finger but worse was to come'

One look at his bulging biceps told me I was beaten before I even started, as I sheepishly took hold of my shears. Pitching myself against Gwion Evans was simply baa-my! The 36-year-old farmer is the Ronaldo of sheep shearing. Declared individual machine shearing world champion at the 2023 Golden Shears World Championships - the highest accolade available - and, with his teammate Richard Jones, winning the teams world championship at the Royal Highland Show in Scotland, he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Or at least, covered in fleece! Gwion can strip an adult sheep of its wool in less than 40 seconds, and a lamb in just 17. His world record win saw him shear a whole herd of 20 sheep in just 14.56 minutes - eight minutes less than an episode of Friends. He says: “Winning the world title was a dream come true. The atmosphere was electric. It was a proud moment. It puts British farming on the map.” Looking across at me, my shears in my hand, he warns: “ “Be careful how you hold them or you’ll lose a finger.” These days, sheep shearing is an extreme sport. Governed by the British Isles Shearing Competition Association (BISCA) competitors are graded and judged on speed, animal welfare and fleece quality. Joining Gwion at Pant Idda farm near Abergele in North Wales, I am determined to give it a go. A sheep farmer, shearer and ambassador for British Wool, Gwion has three children - Cati, seven, Enoc, five, and Gini, two - with his wife Elain, 37, a teacher. Farming with his father Medwyn and brother Gareth on a traditional 30 acre hill farm in Bylchau, North Wales, the sheep include 1,000 crossbred ewes and 400 pure Welsh mountain ewes. Wiping his brow after shearing a sheep in 39 seconds, he says: “As soon as I could walk I would play-act shearing sheep. I sheared my first sheep when I was 12 and entered my first shearing competition at 14. I have sheared over 300,000 sheep since. Give me a few more years and it’ll be a million.” Sheep farmers need to shear their flock each year between May and July, to ensure the animals don’t overheat in the summer weather. Gareth Jones of British Wool explains: “Without shearing, the wool grows indefinitely, causing severe overheating in the summer, restricted mobility and a higher risk of dangerous parasitic infections.” And with wool as a by-product of sheep shearing, it’s a win win. A standard adult sheep yields about 2.2kg of fleece per year. This amount of raw wool is enough to create around six sweaters, or cover a large sofa - and wool prices to farmers this year are the highest in a decade. The UK’s 60 plus breeds of sheep produce different qualities of wool, with British Wool handling more than 40 million fleeces each year. I watch as Gwion - behind him, a row of pens holding hundreds of sheep, patiently waiting their turn - selects a ewe from the flock. Pulling her gently towards him, he holds her fast against his legs, pushing the shears against her skin. Driving the shears down her body several times, he expertly removes her fleece in one large piece - popping it into a huge sack, ready to be sent off and sold. Gwion is hoping for around £1.60 per fleece. Tidying up the ewe’s legs, he then releases her and she trots off with a spring in her step to join her pals on the nearby hill. All that achieved in less time than it would take me to make a cuppa. “You must be fit to shear sheep, but farming and shearing is hard work so work keeps me fit,” Gwion tells me. Now it’s my turn. Gwion beckons me over to a waiting ewe. She looks at me, suspiciously. She seems enormous. My heart beating wildly, Gwion grabs my hand, holds it fast to the animal’s side, and leans her bulky body against my legs. He hands me the shears and I push them down my ewe’s body several times, lifting the thick coat from her skin. “I bet that feels better,” I tell her, as she stares me out again. Instead of Gwion’s 39 seconds, this has been quite a process. As the minutes ticked by, the poor sheep began to lose patience, wriggling free. Now I console myself that maybe she wanted to look a bit more individual, as her patchy shave stands out against the sharply shorn flock. As for me? I am not a pretty sight. Smelling like a farmyard, while I’d like to be covered in glory, instead, I am covered in sheep poo! But I feel proud, until I hear that Gwion’s kids already look set to become better apprentices than me. The farmer, who came fifth globally at this year’s biennial Golden Shears World Championships in New Zealand, says they are already interested in what he does. He says: I’m raising little farmers. As soon as I could walk, I would play shearing with my little brother, we’d play farming. The sheep were my first friends and the fields were my playgrounds.” And while farming is a demanding life, with long hours, he loves it. He says: “It can be a lonely industry, because you’re mostly working by yourself. It’s one of the reasons the shearing season is good - you work together with other farmers to get the job done as a team. We have a chat, and you have a mate with you. We’ll go to the pub for a drink on the way home.” And this year, the Home Office ended a long-standing arrangement which allows foreign sheep shearers to have visa-free access to the UK, as ministers want the industry to train more people here. But Gwion says: “The work is seasonal and there's not enough of it to sustain full time employment without overseas travel. Farmers would urge the government to reconsider.” Bidding adieu to the sheep, it’s safe to say I won’t be giving up the day job. Although I must say I have a new appreciation for my favourite woollen jumper. As far as the world title is concerned, like the Terminator before him, Gwion says: “I’ll be back! I still have some fight in me. I’ll be back to take the crown.” *For more information about sheep shearing, go to britishwool.org.uk; @britishwool on socials