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Photos Melora B. North
According to Kathy Mealey, Alpaca make friendly, curious outdoor pets. |
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For Mealey, spinning is a relaxing pastime that beats television hands-down. |
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Alpaca farmer tends her flock of fine woolly friends
By Melora B. North
Banner Staff
“Home spun” is an expression you often hear in reference to something home-made. In this day and age, it isn’t often that one can say in all honesty that they have made something start-to-finish from scratch, but in the case of Kathy Mealey of Brewster, it is an absolute truth. Not only does she spin wool to knit hats and sweaters, she raises and breeds the stock from which the wool comes.
“It’s more exciting when you know who you are knitting or wearing,” she says with a laugh. And she’s serious. With a herd of approximately 35 different animals, she has names for all the stock except three Cormo sheep which she simply refers to as the three blind mice and describes them, laughing, as “the dumbest sheep ever.” Which may be so, but they serve a purpose as well — they love to eat grass.
“It all started as a joke,” says Mealey. “My husband Mark doesn’t mow the lawn. We were living in Harwich on an acre where I had an antique and gift shop and I wanted the property to look pretty, so I got two sheep. I love them, they’re cute.” And that was the beginning of the end of gentle suburban life for Mealey.
The herd quickly grew, and in the process the family was forced to make a move to a larger property that would accommodate the menagerie. Today they live in a home situated on five wooded acres, a perfect place to raise their funny, furry friends who not only amuse but provide a hobby for Mealey which, she claims, “saves her sanity.”
A postal carrier during work hours, Mealey’s day starts off and ends with a feeding — and she gets a workout with the rake, hoisting bales of hay as well as shoveling manure to keep the fields free of waste.
“I’ve gotten good at manure shoveling; no one likes that job,” she says. “We have to shovel daily. We had a kid helping but he didn’t like the manure part either. Alpaca poop is like liquid gold,” she says. “It doesn’t have to sit, you can use it right away. People come and get it, I fill grain bags, I get a workout here.” She adds, laughing, “Lifting at work is a piece of cake.”
Once a year a man comes from the western part of the state to shear all the animals then returns six months later to once again shear the goats. “The goats have to be clipped twice a year or their coats get too matted, too heavy, it’s too much,” Mealey explains. Once an animal is sheared, the clippings are put into plastic bags which are clearly labeled with the animal’s name so Mealey always knows whose wool is whose. The wool is then washed and processed to eliminate nature’s gritty remains, which are prevalent on buck goats. It is then stored until it is time to spin.
“The boy goats will be out in any weather. They have full coats. The fixed goats have nicer fleece; they get in everything, they are dirty little animals,” says Mealey.
She puts coats on the Cormo sheep to keep their fleece clean. “Their fleece is very greasy but it’s the whitest you can get. It’s like merino, only finer,” she says.
Clearly all these animals may be cud-chewing ruminants, but that is where the similarities end and the fun begins for Mealey.
“Once I got the two sheep I wanted more animals,” says Mealey. “I wanted to blend wools, add more fibers.”
So she began padding her stable. Along came angora goats for mohair, the heavy fleece of the merino, the curly fleeced huacaya, the silky fleeced suri alpaca and the long-wooled romney. Rounding out the Mealey farm is the family dog, a bouvier who roams the herds, and, no, his clippings are not used for yarn — or not that we know of.
Now 60, when Mealey is not tending to her flock she is busy spinning wool on one of her several Louet wheels. Nothing like grandma used to spin on, these wheels are small and compact but with a tall stance, and they sport an elongated spool. Made in Holland, they have ball bearings and a smooth spin with foot pedals that Mealey likes to man with bare feet. Mixing and matching her wools, the yarn comes off the wheel in fine piles that are later rolled into balls for future use by Mealey or, in some cases, sale at the sheep and wool festivals Mealey attends to learn more about her hobby and sell her wares.
Mealey asserts that these animals are anything but dull or without a sense of humor, laced with a bit of spite.
“The alpaca spit,” she says. “And goats spray when they’re in rut, it’s nasty sometimes.” But she’s been through the mill when it comes to the little quirks her pampered beauties engage in when hard pressed. She tells the story of when she loaded up the family minivan with three alpaca. “By the time we got home they had spit so much the upholstery was covered. I had to get a new car,” she says. “The car was green, the windows, everything. I had to wear a rain coat with a hood, there was hay everywhere. It was hard to drive. The people from work came by to see the car — they couldn’t see in the windows.”
Mealey’s next road trip is back to Connecticut to pick up Cookie, a Scottish black face sheep who was sent off to sire a herd. “I hope he loses some weight chasing after those girls. He’s fat. I hope he comes back thinner,” she says. “I haven’t cleaned out the car yet, I don’t want to until he gets back.” But this time it’s just full of hay, so heck, what the hay, what’s the rush? At least she can see out the windows this time round.
mnorth@provincetownbanner.com
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Jan 3rd, 2008