Arts & Culture | Youth Arts Journalism Initiative | North Haven
Anneliese the Sheep at the 116th annual Connecticut Sheep, Wool & Fiber Festival. Ruby Szekeres Photos.
The loud, buzzing razor made a clean cut as it glided across Anneliese's back and legs, moving methodically against her soft wool. Around her, a crowd of humans began to form, craning their necks to watch. Further back, fellow sheep and goats also filled the dimly lit barn. The razor buzzed on, unbothered. Before long, Anneliese's legs were free of dirt and fluff, almost brand new in their appearance.
It was her time to shine.
Wool, fleece and fiber (and plenty of sheep, including Anneliese) took over the North Haven Fairgrounds Saturday, in time for the 116th annual Connecticut Sheep, Wool & Fiber Festival. An initiative of the Connecticut Sheep Breeders Association, it was held at the North Haven Fairgrounds after a move from its longtime home in Vernon, Connecticut. The festival has taken place annually in some form since 1909.
As barns filled with vendors, attendees took it all in, from cozy wool knits to large bags of raw, silky fiber and coarse wool that would soon become yarn. There were also demonstrations throughout the day, teaching festival-goers about wool quality, skirting fleeces, and shearing.
In an open space for spinning—that’s the process of transforming fiber into yarn—Beth Vogt worked methodically among her fellow spinners. Vogt—a sheep enthusiast from her printed t-shirt to her wooly socks—used a pocket wheel and fiber from one of the nearby vendor stalls.
Part of the Nutmeg Spinners Guild in West Hartford, Vogt said she has been spinning since 1997, when she received her first wheel. She started coming to the festival two decades ago.
“Now I have around 14 wheels, not including my hand spinners,” she said, nodding to her husband, Fred, as she worked.
As spinners worked, some chatting on their wheels, it set the tone for multiple Nutmeg Spinners Guild competitions, such as seeing who could spin the longest and the most consistent thread. Patty (she declined to give her last name) emerged victorious for the longest thread, using her trusty, handheld drop spindle.
“I bring my drop spindle anywhere,” she said. “It may not be as fast as a wheel, but it's easy to manage and great for when I’m waiting.” She added that she had come to the festival with her friend Donna for the second time.
“We came last year and it was just so great.” Donna said. “I’ve been looking forward to coming all year.” She and Patty had enjoyed walking through the barns and seeing what the vendors had to offer. Donna held multiple bags of yarn and fibers as she walked. “We’ve already had to make a trip to the car to drop our new stuff off,” she said.
Nearby, one of the day’s highlights was being able to pet the cloud-like fur of several soft angora rabbits, who had made the journey all the way from Circle S Farm in New Hampshire. For those curious enough to stop and chat, breeder Sally Hamel spoke about caring for angora rabbits, from feeding them to the optimal environment. At the beginning of the day, she showed off two young purebred English angora rabbits for sale. By noon, only one was left.
Hamel, who first learned about angora rabbits in 1993, said that it’s a common misconception that a rabbit has to die for the use of its fur. To the contrary, breeders and fiber artists alike know to wait until the rabbit molts, or sheds its old coat for a new one, which normally happens twice a year. Since the 1990s, Hamel has been breeding her own angora rabbits.
In Barn Six, Evan Dudley demonstrated sheep-shearing as an audience that was both hoofed and human gathered around. Introducing Anneliese, a Romeldale CVM Sheep from Cold Goats Farm, he spoke through the process, which is meant to be safe and gentle for the animal. He positioned her on her back, removing hay and debris from her stomach. Starting at the stomach with a razor in hand, Dudley moved up to the head and the legs, making it appear that the sheep’s fleece was coming off like a coat.
“Sheep usually are shaved once a year,” Dudley said. “This sheep here was super good for me today.” He has been shearing sheep for over 20 years and is around his fifth year at the festival.
Sylvia Murray picks through the fleece.
“When I’m not shaving sheep here, I really enjoy seeing all of the different vendors," he said. "It’s great because I know many of these people from shearing their sheep and at the end of the day, I walk around and explore.”
After Dudley finished with Anneliese, festival committee member Sylvia Murray (she is what is known as the Connecticut Blanket Coordinator) scooped the fleece up in a sheet and brought it to a skirting table where she laid it out and began to take a look at it.
“First,” she said, “you want to identify what part of the fleece went where on the sheep.”
She pointed out how the coarser part of the fleece was near the legs. She ripped that part of the fleece away, picking out some dirt. Murray then went and shook the fleece over the table, causing second cuts (wool that was shaved off after the initial fleece) and other fuzz to fall through the holes in the table and onto the ground.
One fleece became roughly 60 ounces of usable fiber, or one throw blanket.
“To tell if it is a ‘good’ fleece or not, you want to take a piece of the fiber and pull on it hard,” Murray said. “If it has a crackling sound, that means it is bad. This can be caused by anything from sun damage, to the sheep being sick. A good fleece should have a twang sound.”
Then Murray deemed Anneliese's fleece to be good, passing around bits of the fiber for viewers to hear for themselves. After being skirted, that fleece would be sent to a mill and turned into a blanket.
For the vendors selling yarn and fibers, the process was a little different. From the skirting table, the fleece would have been combed and possibly dyed. Then it would be ready as fiber or would be spun into yarn.
At a booth for the Oxford-based Coon Hollow Farm, Dawn Sotir had an assortment of items such as dyed wool, needle felted and wet felted pins, wool roving kits, merino and alpaca wool yarn and soap.
Over the 15 years Sotir has come to the festival, she has learned that people come for material to make something themselves rather than already made stuff.
“As a business person, you got to be willing to change with the flow of things,” she said.
Keri Boucher, another vendor who has been coming for years, sells yarn and fiber from her 33 sheep. As the owner of Iris Creek Farm, her signature piece is a collar made from the wool locks from her sheep, which take over a year to grow, and dyed silk. She wet-felted these locks together and attached them to the silk, she explained. Her other products were skeins of yarn, raw locks and dyed locks.
“I’d say this is my 20th year here,” Boucher said. “And I enjoy talking to my friends at next door stalls.”
Another passionate fiber artist in a neighboring barn was Elena Anderson, the mind behind Baah Boots. She sells felted slippers, shoe liners, scarves and needle felt paintings.
“My process of making my slippers involves hot water, olive oil, soap and a lot of hard work,” she said. “It’s worth it, because people who bought my slippers the previous year at this festival come back and tell me how much they love them.”
This article comes from a graduate of the 2024 Cohort of the Youth Arts Journalism Initiative. Ruby Szekeres is a sophomore at the Sound School.