"weathers," by holding them upside down on a table, testicles up, slicing off the lower 1/3 of the hairy scrotum, squishing up the two jewels with both hands, and then your dad and uncles leaning over and gently biting / slurping them out with your teeth (because hands are of course busy), trailing spermatic cord elements like the tails of a comet, and then spitting them into a waiting re-purposed ice cream bucket. You do this because that's the way "real men" sheephearders have always done it. And then, you fry them up fresh (mandatorily before the day is done) over the campfire, and require the young whippersnappers who had to chase them down / hold them down (while cringing and crossing their legs at the scene) to chew them up like a delicacy, and swallow them down in to the gullet as a right of passage, and then laugh at them if they're whimpy enough to puke.
Sadly, I speak from experience.
And that was pretty much the easy-peasy warm up to a far worse experience of shearing time, down in a 12 foot tall gunny sack, sweating profusely in 89 degree heat. packing down the greasy, fecal ball covered wool that is thrown by the same uncles down in to the gunny sack on to your head, for you to move past you body in the narrow gunny sack to where you can stomp on it. This same wool that is covered in sheep ticks, that you are later counting into double digits, hoping you don't get to 30, as you remove them (hopefully without trails of blood yet) from sundry nether regions all over your body.

No wonder ACDC's song "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" got so much play time in those days!
And kid's these days think they got it rough if the miss their lunch, or can't wear their ear buds while working. LOL