Marco Torres first came to the U.S. in 2005 to shear sheep as part of the H-2A program for agricultural workers. Torres holds a business degree in Peru but makes more money as a shearer. Photo: Lizzie Mulvey, Rocky Mountain PBS
CRAIG, Colo. — Snow clung to the peaks east of Al Villard’s ranch. It was late April, but before Villard’s 600 sheep could return to their mountain pasture, they had to ditch their winter coats.
Sheep shearing is a family affair and Villard worked alongside his 19-year-old daughter Rylee Villard and brother-in-law, Jim Nicoletto, to get the job done.
He coaxed the sheep up a ramp towards the barbershop on wheels.
“Shooo, shooo, shooo,” Villard whistled, his face weathered like the boards of the corral. Villard’s grandparents started the business in 1928. He helped his uncle with the ranch growing up and eventually took over the operation.
Beside the corral, Luis Alfonso, a herder, and his border collie prodded the sheep through the final stretch. The threat of a sheepdog’s nip persuaded even the most reluctant ewes to enter the shearing trailer.
Inside the converted semi-truck, a team of three shearers spent the day bent at the waist. They wrestled sheep into position and maneuvered electric shears in short, confident strokes — it takes professional shearers just a few minutes per sheep.
Wool tumbled out of the trailer. Workers then fed the fiber into a baler that packed it into large bags to be shipped and sold.
“Albert’s grandparents used to fund the whole operation for the year just on the money they got from the wool. Now you’re lucky if you can get enough to pay the shearers,” said Nicoletto.
“The concept of the rich rancher — that’s a thing of the past,” he said.
Since its peak in 1943, wool production in Colorado has dropped more than 80%. Cultural shifts have decimated the market for wool and lamb. And when shearing season arrives, it can be difficult to find workers.
Although some industry advocates see a strong future for wool — citing its durability and versatile properties — the material faces ongoing competition from synthetic alternatives and new questions about its environmental costs. For ranchers who remain afloat, the future can feel as volatile as next year's prices.
Tess Villard, right, and Jim Nicoletto, (left) wrangle sheep towards the shearing trailer in late-April. Photo: Andrea Kramar, Rocky Mountain PBS
Soldiers in sheep’s clothing
During World War I and II, wool production soared to record levels. The U.S. military demanded millions of pounds of wool to produce everything from blankets to berets.
“It's very wearable. It’s warm. It's fire resistant. It's stain resistant. From a practical standpoint, it just seemed like the ideal fiber component for soldiers and for uniforms,” said Steve LeValley, a retired professor of animal sciences at Colorado State University.
By the time the United States joined wars in Korea and Vietnam, demand for wool remained relatively high. In 1954, the Eisenhower Administration established price support for wool producers, citing the strategic importance of the material for military uniforms and to bolster the industry for years to come.
The Wool Act of 1954 provided payments to producers. The more they harvested, the more they earned. According to a report by the Government Accountability Office, “From 1955 through 1988, a total of nearly $2 billion in payments were made.”
At the same time, however, new, synthetic fibers, such as nylon and rayon — which were mass produced during World War II — began to offer consumers cheaper, lightweight alternatives. Fewer people worked outside and the availability of central heating began to cut into demand for wool too, said LeValley.
LeValley also pointed to a shift in American tastes that followed the war to explain the decline in domestic sheep numbers.
During World War II, Australia sent its cull ewes to American soldiers fighting in the South Pacific. For millions of GI’s, eating canned mutton day after day was enough to spoil the meat forever.
“It was nasty and left an indelible impression upon, probably two to three generations of American consumers that just turned their back on lamb products,” LeValley said.
In 1990, the Clinton administration dealt a further blow to the sheep industry by removing payments to wool producers that had been a part of the Wool Act of 1954.
Researchers found that the program had failed to stop the wool industry’s tailspin and that wool was no longer as important for military or emergency purposes.
“The concept of the rich rancher — that’s a thing of the past,” said Jim Nicoletto. Photo: Lizzie Mulvey, Rocky Mountain PBS
For years, wool advocates have pushed back against competition from synthetic fabrics by pointing to the synthetic clothing industry’s dependence on petroleum.
Advertisements from industry groups, such as Woolmark — which represents more than 60,000 Australian sheep producers — portray wool as “100% natural, 100% biodegradable, and 100% renewable.”
Recently, however, environmental groups have called into question just how sustainable wool is. A 2021 report by the Center for Biological Diversity, accused the wool industry of “greenwashing,” pointing to the impact of the Australian and American wool industries on greenhouse gas emissions, land use and biodiversity.
“Despite the significant amount of chemical processing and environmental harms in wool production, the industry has thoroughly greenwashed its products by marketing them as ‘natural’ and ‘sustainable,’” the report’s authors wrote.
Other studies point to wool’s high carbon footprint, since sheep produce methane, a greenhouse gas. At the same time, many alternatives to wool are closely linked to the fast-fashion market, which comes with many of its own environmental concerns.
When shearing season arrives, it can be difficult to find workers willing to shear their sheep. Photo: Andrea Kramar, Rocky Mountain PBS
No matter where the price of wool falls, sheep must be sheared every year for their health.
Ernie Etchart, a second generation rancher in Montrose, said that there have been years when the money he made from wool couldn’t cover the cost of labor.
Shearing technology has improved vastly from the days when shearers relied exclusively on hand-operated shears, but the practice remains a physically taxing dance between worker and livestock.
“There's over 100 strokes that go into shearing a sheep in the Australian, New Zealand method of shearing sheep to get that wool off properly where it can be processed later,” said LeValley.
As the sheep and wool specialist with Colorado State University, LeValley trained hundreds of people how to shear sheep. He found that people would go home and shear their own animals, “but they weren’t very interested in hiring out to their neighbors.”
As demand for wool faded, so too did the art and knowledge of how to shear, said LeValley.
“They tried robotics to a certain degree, but it's sort of like every sheep is different in terms of the size.”
To fill in gaps in the labor force, ranchers often turn to the H-2A program, which allows them to hire foreign workers on a temporary basis.
At the Villard ranch, Marco Torres was one of three shearers working to trim Villard’s 600 head in the spring. Torres first came to the U.S. from central Peru in 2005. For the past 18 years, Torres has worked as a shearer from February to May as part of the H-2A program.
Torres studied business at a university in Peru, but he earns more money shearing sheep. Since the speed of workers vary, he is typically paid two to three dollars per sheep. On a good day, he can earn $300 or more.
This year, Torres began his season in Cheyenne, Wyoming, then traveled to Grand Junction, Colorado and Montrose, Colorado. The ability to see different parts of the country and meet new people is the most rewarding aspect of the work, he said.
At 44 years old, Torres estimates he has another five to six years to do the work.
“It’s a young man’s game,” said LeValley.
Torres wishes that his three children will someday be able to live in the U.S., but he hopes they can come as students or professionals instead of shearers.
“It’s hard work,” he said.
Although shearers work in less solitary conditions than sheepherders, workers remain subject to the whims of their employer, who can easily send the shearers back to their home countries under the H-2A program.
Data from the Department of Labor show several wage and hour violations that led to temporary debarment from the H-2A program among shearing outfits in Colorado.
Months after being interviewed for this story, Torres contacted Rocky Mountain PBS and alleged that his employer, Sebastian Larralde, punished him for speaking to the media, sent him back to Peru and refused to renew his contract for 2025. Rocky Mountain PBS reached out to Larralde but has not heard back. This story will be updated with any future comments.
Wool tumbles out of the trailer and is packed into bales to be shipped and sold. Photo: Lizzie Mulvey, Rocky Mountain PBS
Outside of Ridgeway, Colorado, Ernie Etchart’s sheep graze on Horsefly Mesa. Three years ago, Etchart and his brother joined the Shaniko Wool Company, a partnership of 10 ranches that agree to raise their sheep in accordance with the Responsible Wool Standards (RWS), a set of animal welfare and conservation practices created by the Textile Exchange. The nonprofit bills itself as a “community of brands, manufacturers and farmers [working] towards more purposeful production,” in the textile and fashion industry.
Since becoming a partner, Etchart now has the ability to sell his wool to high end brands, including Ralph Lauren. U.S. athletes donned jackets made with Shaniko Wool at the Paris Olympics.
“It’s opened doors for the type of companies we’re able to sell to,” said Etchart. “Synthetic fiber can be cheaper at times, but the quality of wool is what brings companies back. Its quality is unparalleled.”
LeValley sees the outdoor industry as a key partner in wool’s future
“People that do a lot of outdoor activities are willing to pay for high end garments, including wool socks and outer garments that are very efficient at keeping people warm,” he said.
While LeValley believes the merits of wool are timeless, he thinks its growers need to be more open to innovation, including sheep genetics.
Sheep that produce the best wool often have traits that make for inferior meat. But even as ranchers have come to rely more on lamb than wool to make ends meet, experimentation to develop more suitable breeds has lagged.
“It’s been a long-term process, trying to change the genetics around,” said LeValley. “Tradition got right in the way of people. They want to do it like their grandfather did it.”
Even since joining Shaniko, wool makes up just 20 to 30% of Etchart’s revenue. He’s hopeful that a Trump tariff could give him a leg up against Australian and New Zealand lamb imports. As for wool, Etchart doesn’t know what to expect. Rather than worry about next year’s prices, he is focused on finding someone to take over when he’s ready to retire.
