Daily life in a shearing gang has struck a chord with New Zealand television viewers, leading to filming of the third series of Shearing Gang, which follows the men and women of Alexandra-based Peter Lyon Shearing and screens on Prime. Agribusiness reporter Sally Rae paid a visit to Ida Valley Station, in the heart of rural Central Otago, yesterday and met some of the ''stars'' involved.
When Anahera Williams was a young girl, her shearer father would take her to work and sit her on a bale of wool.
She would watch sheep being shorn all day and, at the end of the day, he would tell her ''that's how you make money''.
Miss Williams (19), better known as Bogg (pronounced Boogie) said she left school at 15, candidly admitting she got into too much trouble.
''My Dad asked me, 'do you want to go to school [and] get an education, go to work and make some money, or stay home and get a hiding?'
"I took the one where I was going to get something out of it, of course,'' she said during a lunch break at Ida Valley Station yesterday.
So last year, Miss Williams came south from Wanganui and started work as a wool-handler for Alexandra-based shearing contractor Peter Lyon.
While it was the bubbly teenager's first time away from home, she had no regrets about making the move.
''It was awesome. It was a journey. I got to know myself more, what I'm capable of. This was the best life decision I could make.''
While she acknowledged she was not particularly good at saving money last year, that had reversed this year.
She planned to travel to Australia, the UK and Europe, working in the shearing industry, all the while saving money to, hopefully, one day work in her real passion - photography.
Shearing-industry characters such as Miss Williams are what has led to filming starting on the third season of television series Shearing Gang.
The series, which screens on Prime, presents a warts-and-all account of life in a shearing gang, focusing on the men and women who work for Mr Lyon and his wife, Elsie.
Director-producer Craig Burton believed the secret of its success was that it was about ''real New Zealanders''.
Describing it as a factual reality show, Mr Burton said it was ''about the people, the characters''.
Couple that with some ''beautiful scenery'' and ''you can't go wrong'', he said.
With Mr Lyon's workforce peaking at 240, they all had ''amazing stories'' and it was a matter of finding the ones that were willing to tell them.
In searching for quirky storylines, he particularly liked finding ones where shearing had ''kind of saved their lives''.
Auckland-based freelance cameraman Tom Walsh (34) relished the opportunity to trade frenetic city life for time in the picturesque, remote Ida Valley.
''I love this place and I get paid to be here. You're going from Auckland, sitting in traffic a lot of the time, dealing with the fast pace of city life, and to come here is like a breath of fresh air - literally,'' he said.
For 27-year-old shearer Quinton Thompson, the plan was to earn ''a few dollars'' to give his 5-year-old son some career options when he came to enter the workforce.
While Mr Thompson's only option was to shear sheep, he hoped his son did not necessarily follow in his footsteps, as the opportunities for him were ''endless'', he said.
Trying to get rich - ''sort of'', he said wryly - he was saving up to buy a car. Something nice, like a V8 Holden, he said.
But he admitted he was not very good at saving. Enter Mrs Lyon, who allocates money to him and a few other employees not renowned for their saving abilities to buy their necessities, and puts the rest in the bank.
Mr Thompson was full of praise for his employers and said he had ''seen the light. I'm trying to get somewhere in life.''
Originally from Invercargill, where he grew up in the shearing industry, he has been shearing for about seven years.
He called into Alexandra one day, got a job and has not left since.
''I like the people, like that you get to go out, see a lot of places, meet a lot of cool people, earn a bit of money.''
Veteran shearer Ali Davies, who celebrated his 52nd birthday yesterday, has been shearing for 30-odd years.
Ask him what he likes about the job and he says laconically: ''Nothing''.
''You've got to do something to fill in the day. I don't know what it is; I've tried a few other things and didn't like them.''
Drawing on a cigarette during a break, he admitted he would have to retire one day when he got too slow but, in the meantime, that was not on the horizon.
Yesterday, Mr and Mrs Lyon had 230 employees at work on 21 properties.
While the logistics involved in running such a big business might seem mind-blowing, Mr Lyon said they had grown with the business and it did not seem too daunting.
The biggest thing was, if someone had a problem, ''just try and count to 10. Often that first 10 seconds, you make your most mistakes,'' Mr Lyon said.
Satisfaction kept them going, ''and a few dollars in the end of it, I suppose'', he said.
A self-described ''cocky's son'' from Pleasant Point, it was natural that Mr Lyon (61) would take over the family farm.
Shearers looked like they earned a lot of money and his father told him, ''You better get out and get some of it, boy.''
So he went to shearing school at age 19 and, when he was not farming, he was shearing as much as he could.
Later, after his first marriage broke up, he traded farming for shearing and in 1985, the purchase of a shearing contracting business was completed in a pub in Mossburn.
Mr and Mrs Lyon acknowledged those first 10 years were tough financially.
The business had grown substantially since then and turnover this year was just over $10 million.
Peter Lyon Shearing was responsible for shearing ''two million-odd'' sheep each year.
Mr Lyon was proud of theof the wool industry story.
''I just see us as custodians of the job while we're doing it. Someone's obviously going to have to do it after we're gone.''
And the story itself was ''magnificent'', he said.
''The story of wool is really good. It's from the earth. It comes from the green grass, it runs on these hills ... it's just a natural product.
''You look out on those hills; we just see gold in those hills,'' he said, indicating the sweeping hills around Ida Valley Station.
