Checking In

Every industry has them, but ours seems to breed them — the good bastards. You know the ones. The people who make a hard day’s graft not just bearable, but bloody enjoyable. The ones who bring the shed alive, keep everyone moving, and remind us why we love this mad job in the first place.

Shearing season doesn’t ease you in. It chucks you straight in the deep end, boots and all. Cold mornings, long days, tired bodies,...

This isn’t about being the fun police. It’s about calling out the reality. Because over the years, drugs have become a harmful blight on what good does happen within the industry. And there is good — tonnes of it. Bloody good people doing bloody good work, day in and day out.

Let’s not beat around the bush—shed work is hard graft. From sun-up to sundown, it’s a high-pressure gig, and every role in the wool chain cops it in some way. It’s noisy, physical, bloody hot or freezing cold, and there’s always someone wanting something done five minutes ago. But here’s the real kicker: no one gets the job done alone.

We’ve had the kōrero. The hard yarns. The uncomfortable truths about suicide and mental health in our sheds. But let’s take it a step...

We’re not always the best at talking, are we? Especially not when it’s about the stuff we can’t fix with a change of comb, a squirt of oil or a yarn at smoko.