I HAVE FACED THE RAM

There was a big old ram who went off into the wild. Billy. He was a gruff ram. No one knew how old he was. You did not hear him baa until it was time to be sheered. He would stomp and butt and everything. The other sheep did not go near him. A sheep who did not want to be sheered. He cared about, not much more, but, to chew and to not be sheered. My cousins said he was silly. What kind of sheep doesn’t want to be sheered? He and I were the only ones not to be sheered. I was too small. My wool was not enough. He chose, yet, I did not. I use to watch him, on the hill there; chewing and watching the mountains. And one day he was just gone. Gone! I did not understand. I was here. All are here. He gone. I tell everyone I can find him. They laugh and say even if I could the mean ram would stomp me to death. I stay.

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As the days passed and the weeks he did not show up. The humans went to find him and did not. They tried to track his hooves. I spend all my time at feet. I know every hoof and their character in the mud. I bet you did not know that all hooves are different. Some hooves are taller and push into the earth more. Some are larger on one side. When I see the different hooves I say “See? We are all different!” My cousin Ewe kicked me. “Not like you,” Ewe said. I see they don’t see me as them. But, I don’t like this. I think of the ram. He does not care. I say… to myself I will find him!

I remember the mountains he would stare at. I wake up early and run off. No one see me. I run to the mountains. I run and run. I run past the dandelions; tiny flower lions stretching to the sun. I run over hills and up a rocky cliff. I track his hooves. His hoof had a tiny crack in it, on the left front. A crack he got one day fighting the humans. I find his hoof print. Then another. I see where they go. The mountain has fog. I can not see far. I jump and prance across rocks. I feel alive! Then, I hear something. A rock tumble. I stop and be very still, like I was taught. It might be a wolf.

I hear the clomp of hoof. I look and as the sun tries to creep into the sky I see the ram.

I see the Ram and the Ram sees me. I wonder if he would stomp me. His wool is big and fluffy. Un-sheered. We are still. A chill pierces my wool. I did not run here to be still. To be quiet. I pump my wool up. I breathe in. I baa. Baaaa! The giant ram look took me and… and “Baaaa” to me. I jump. I say “hello great Ram! I am Fredrick! I have traveled far to find you! To see you!” “…Hello tiny one. I have seen you.” I did not know what to do now that he was here. We stare. He chews cud. “Did you bring the men with you?” “I did not. I come alone.” “Good. Better.” “Human take wool.” He turns to go. I see behind him, a cave. ‘Wait!” He stops. “What is it little sheep? I have things to do.” “Why?” “Why? Why what?” Why do you run? Why do you not to be sheered? Why do you come here to cave?” He chews.

He says, “Why did you run here? Why did you run alone? You face wolves and foxes and well an eagle could easily snatch you.” “I did not think of the wolves or foxes. I do not think of eagles. I just wanted to find you.” “And you set off alone? “Yes.” “Did you tell anyone?” “No.” “Why?” I wanted to find you! I did not care for them to stop me. They also laugh and would kick me,” I say. “The sheered will.” I puff myself up. I did not come here to answer. “I came to ask why!”

“I don’t know why. I know the mountain calls. I know the humans take. And I like my wool. Look how magnificent it is! Look at my fluff. I ask myself why they want my fluff? The humans see my great fluff and want it for themselves. I see my fluff and want it for me! I want my fluff and I want my mountain. And so, I go. And now they must make their own. Why should they have all the fluff from me and you…well…everyone? Will one sheep’s fluff ever be enough?”

I say. “Oh great Ram, but, do you not miss the farm? The sheep? Do you not miss the sheep dog who keeps us from being lost?” “Do I look lost? The dog nips at my hooves. Sometimes I miss the sheep. But, such is the price to keep my fluff, to have my mountain. The last time drinking from a puddle I see myself. Sheered naked. I say to myself what must I do, I a mighty ram? Facing myself I decide to run. Some nights are cold. some nights are too quiet. Sometimes my fluff gets in my eyes. But, it is better than being sheered naked to who I am not. The ram I saw I…was not. This! This is who I am! The mighty fluffy ram!” I stare. “Do you understand?” “No.” “Baaaa…” He turns back to his mountain cave.

I watch him go. I turn and look back. He is at the mouth of his cave. “And what will you do little one? Why do you not stay and keep me company? Those sheep have nothing to offer you.” “I must go home…” “Return to be sheered and kicked?” “Yes, I will return. I heard it all.” “You have not. I arrive at this mountain only to see beyond the valley and to know there is more.” If I have not seen it all you have not.” He turns back again. I continue on.

One arriving home I was dirty and my wool knotted. My brothers and sisters laughed at me when I told them where I had been. They didn’t believe I had found him. They didn’t believe I could even make such a journey. I thought back realizing it wasn’t that hard. Eventually, they stopped laughing and went back to being sheep.

I did see the old ram again. Farmer human saw him, they said, high on a hill. A giant cloud with four tiny legs. They brought him back. When he came back he could barely see out of one eye. The farmers were leading him to be sheered. But, he still seemed happy. “Baaa.. ahoy Fredrick! Brave little one.” The other sheep who did not believe I had found him look at me. “Hello great Ram! You are at least twice as fluffy as last time I saaaaAAAaaa you!” “I know. Aren’t I magnificent?” “Yes you are great ram. Yes you are.” “As are you! Tiny, but mighty!” I like this.

They sheared his wool. But, left him more than they use to. And now. They let him grow. They let his fluff fly. But, when it gets hard to see they bring him home. And he seems happier. But, now I have gone from there. Gone to see my own mountain. Gone to grow my magnificent fluff. Moved by his words I have gone off to see the world. And when the wind gets hard, or I feel lost and I can smell the wolves, I remember , that I am tiny but mighty and I remember. I have faced the Ram.

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Fredrick!