Matriarch

If you’ve been following along, you’ll remember that in January our herd of 31 alpacas went through annual shearing. 

Almost 31. 

We shear every 12 months not for aesthetics and not simply for fibre yield, but because it is essential to alpaca welfare. Alpacas do not shed naturally, and without annual shearing they are at risk of heat stress, restricted movement, parasite burden, and long-term health complications.

Annual alpaca shearing is not optional. It is a core part of responsible alpaca husbandry. 

When you keep livestock, responsibility extends far beyond the romantic image of animals grazing quietly in a paddock. Welfare is ongoing, informed, and deliberate. I open our shearing days to small alpaca owners so they can see the process firsthand and understand what proper shearing looks like. 

The day starts early with a briefing before the rhythm takes over. The aim is always to keep each alpaca on the table for as little time as possible. It is not pleasant for them, but it is necessary for their health and wellbeing. Shearing is also our most revealing health checkpoint of the year.  Once the fleece is removed, you see what winter has hidden. Body condition becomes clear. Muscle tone, weight shifts, and subtle changes are easier to assess. Toenails are trimmed, vaccinations completed, and notes taken. We monitor condition throughout the year, but shearing provides clarity. It is less a task and more an audit of the previous twelve months of management. 

Good alpaca husbandry includes body condition scoring, mineral supplementation, vaccination schedules, worm monitoring, pasture quality management, and close behavioural observation. Often the earliest signs of illness appear in posture, appetite, or herd interaction. Early response is part of ethical livestock care. 

Rescuing alpacas has taught me that you don’t always know what you are inheriting. Some animals arrive with a difficult history. Despite best efforts, loss can still occur. That reality sits quietly alongside the work. My hope for those animals is simple: that they live out their days as part of a herd, not as ornaments or display animals, but simply being alpacas. 

This year, only 30 were shorn. Our oldest matriarch, at 18 years of age, sat this one out. 

Alpacas live to around 20 years. Fleece growth slows with age, and in her case we chose to leave her fibre intact for another season so she can carry sufficient coverage through winter. While we use alpaca coats in severe weather, nothing insulates quite like their own fleece. She was part of the original herd I received, and her earlier years were not always well managed. Age reflects history.  Her days now prioritise comfort and companionship.

As cria season approaches, she will remain in the home paddock with the pregnant and returning dams. She is the quiet authority of the herd. 

Alpaca herds operate within a clear social structure. There are dominant hembras, mid-ranking females, and younger animals learning their place. This hierarchy influences access to shelter, preferred grazing areas, and behaviour during late pregnancy. As we move toward alpaca birthing season, those social dynamics matter even more. 

Experienced hembras understand the rhythm of gestation and labour. In paddock birthing systems, older females often form a loose perimeter around a labouring dam. They do not interfere, but they maintain calm. Because alpacas are prey animals, stress directly affects birthing outcomes. A settled herd supports safer deliveries. 

As cria season approaches, we move the herd closer to shelter and observation points, but we avoid disrupting established bonds where possible. Separating pregnant females unnecessarily can increase stress. Welfare is not only physical. It is social and behavioural.  Younger alpacas learn by watching births. Maternal behaviour is observed long before it is practised. Knowledge accumulates quietly in a herd that remembers. 

Shearing also marks the beginning of the alpaca fibre production cycle. The fleece removed each January reflects the previous year of nutrition, stress levels, pasture quality, and overall management. Fibre quality is not separate from welfare. It is evidence of it.  My role on shearing day includes skirting, sorting, and bagging each fleece separately. Maintaining individual records matters when building colour palettes and future blends. Eventually, our own fibre mill will reduce processing steps and improve transparency for small-scale producers. For now, fleeces are sorted carefully and sent in small batches for processing. 

Across Tasmania and beyond, small growers face challenges of scale, cost, and distance. Once fibre leaves the farm, visibility often disappears. Not every fleece needs to become yarn. But every producer deserves access to pathways that respect small-scale fibre raised with care. 

As March and April approach, the expectant hembras grow heavier and the herd shifts subtly. The matriarch watches. There is a steadiness that settles over them. 

Healthy hembras. Healthy cria.  And fibre that begins with welfare.