Written by Fanny Pascual
Raising sheep and ensuring their well-being in exchange for their products is not a recent human activity. Europe and the United Kingdom have been sheep-farming lands for over 6,000 years, and some of the farming methods of the past still resemble those used today.
I recently had the opportunity to visit the Pyrenees, a mountain range bordering northern Spain and southwestern France, to immerse myself in the fascinating work of shepherds and sheep farmers. There, flocks still occupy much of the mountains and share the grassy plateaus available in uninhabited areas. Unlike the vast pastures available in North America, grazing areas in the Pyrenees mountains are divided into estives, remnants of an ancient feudal system, where each municipality is allocated a grazing area called an estive. One or two shepherds diligently tend the herds of local farmers during the summer months.
The profession of shepherd is deeply rooted in the tradition of pastoralism, a method of agriculture known as extensive farming, based on the nomadic herding of herbivores across available pastures according to weather conditions, seasons, and topography. Guiding herds to areas of nutritious grass is a practice believed to be 10,000 years old and hypothetically derived from the evolution of hunter-gatherer communities. France has a long pastoral tradition throughout its territory.
It was in Haute-Ariège that I met Mathieu, a former shepherd turned farmer, who has been practicing pastoralism with his flock of sheep on the slopes of the Pyrenees for ten years. There, the Tarasconnaise, a hardy local breed, is now mainly raised for its lamb meat. Wool, which was once harvested and processed, has seen its value drop dramatically in recent decades—as has also been the case in Canada. The Tarasconnaise sheep is a robust and courageous breed, perfectly adapted to the rugged and steep terrain of the Pyrenees.
On Mathieu's sheep farm, the end of spring heralds the start of transhumance, a crucial stage in the pastoral system, which involves driving the flock of sheep to summer pastures high in the mountains. The journey is made on foot, from the village roads to the steep paths of the summer pastures. Up there, Romain, the shepherd, will look after Mathieu's 350 ewes and three rams for five months, alone with his two border collies, in a rustic hut built in a remote area, with no road access or paved paths, surrounded by breathtaking landscapes and vertiginous cliffs. It's enough to make lovers of the great outdoors and solitary adventurers dream.
Transhumance and its preparation are highlights of the year for the farmer. Mountain villages often celebrate this day as a unifying event that carries on local tradition. The day before departure, each sheep is counted and marked with the farmer's initials and the farm's symbol—signs visible from a distance that will identify the flock and the direction of its movement. The departure from the sheepfold takes place early in the morning, accompanied by the valiant Mani, Mathieu's faithful dog, and a few curious onlookers who have come to ensure the herd's safe passage along the 15 km route.
And what about wool? Although most farmers in Ariège no longer produce wool, a few enthusiasts in the area are working to preserve the art of wool processing, convinced of the importance of reviving this heritage. This is the case for Baptiste Miller, a Merino and Tarasconnaise sheep farmer and former shepherd, who took over the Niaux spinning mill in 2020 with three partners to turn it into a cooperative. Since 1867, the Niaux spinning mill has been a craft business that carries out all stages of processing under one roof: washing, carding, and spinning wool. With machines dating back to the last century, Baptiste and his partners must be ingenious and resourceful to maintain such an activity in an industry that devalues local wool in favor of synthetic fibers. The cooperative remains a secondary project for Baptiste: he only works there part-time, his main activity being lamb farming for meat. However, there is no shortage of projects for the spinning mill. What's more, environmental issues are driving the cooperative's passionate members, who are keen to promote local wool, a sustainable and renewable product, even more.
When I returned from my stay in the mountains with the sheep, one difference stood out to me in comparison with Canadian sheep farming: the geographical proximity of those involved in the industry, as well as the density of the French pastoral community, two assets that promote local dynamism and the preservation of traditions. The costs of transporting wool and wool products, as well as the carbon footprint, are significantly reduced when breeding, processing, and manufacturing can be carried out within a radius of less than 100 km. In Canada, following the closure of many spinning mills between the 1960s and 1990s, the factories that are still in operation are sometimes located far from the raw material, making local wool processing a major challenge. Nevertheless, I have noticed touching similarities between sheep farmers in the Pyrenees and those on Canadian pastures: a love of nature, local products, and a desire to preserve traditional skills.
Thanks to Mathieu Lucbert, Baptiste Miller, and the Filature de Niaux
https://www.filaturedeniaux.com/