by Patrick Rees
Sheep Farm
Patrick Rees
© 2014 Patrick Rees
ISBN: 9781311130945
Preface
How do you tell this story? Did you ever read Animal Farm in school? During the Cold War era, Animal Farm was and outstanding required reading and very funny if not sad in parts. The Lord called us sheep and had many stories concerning sheep.
This story is an extension of the idea that people are sheep, using the Animal Farm format. My highest regards to George Orwell.
I think it must be necessary for me to recognize Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World also. It would be impossible for me to separate myself from its influence in these pages.
Chapter 1
The sun rose on another beautiful day. The farm was strangely quiet. The usual rooster crow did not greet the day this time. Ralph had had a late night and was off his game today. Bennie was out in the field again early and again by himself. Bennie was not like the other sheep. He thought more than they did. He did love the mornings and how the dew made the grass taste. It was especially sweet today. Surviving makes you appreciate the simple things, was the thought rolling in his head, when Ralph finally announced the day.
Bennie had not been sent to slaughter has he had feared. Some of his friends had not been so lucky. The old farmer was not a bad man. He was doing what farmers do—farm. Sheep were a part of his business, the farm. Bennie knew this, but it did not make it any easier today with the flock being smaller. He did not feel any hatred toward the old farmer. He only felt the emptiness of loss, which really had no real name but just emptiness.
The rest of the farm started to stir. The flock would be on its way soon. None of the rest would even comment on the reduction of their numbers. It was the way of things. They knew nothing else. His dad still headed up the flock. That is if there is any such thing as a head of a flock of sheep. Sheep tend to be just sheep, nothing more. That is what made Bennie so different. He was more than just a sheep. He was alive and enjoyed being alive and experiencing life. He explored the nearby woods and had been as far as the cliffs in the distance to see the ocean. He felt there had to be much more to eating grass and hoping you lived another year.
The old farmer was alone now. His wife had died some seasons ago. The farm knew the old couple had treated them as well as any farm treated their animals. They were lucky. For as long as any of the animals could remember the old farmer had run the farm, and controlled their lives. They had little choice and, for the most part, did not care. The wolves in the woods were kept at bay, and no sheep were lost because of them. Only the old sheep remembered the threat of the wolves. Bennie did not fear the wolves. He always watched out for them and would quickly return to the farm if he even thought they were nearby.
The farmer was late today. Maybe he did not hear Ralph when Ralph finally crowed. Bennie knew the farmer’s routine. Knowing the routine helped him get back to the farm without being missed on his wanderings. He would wait a little while longer before he mentioned their morning feed was late. It was no use bringing up the obvious. He did not want the rest of the flock to think something was wrong as he did.
Bennie did stroll over to where his father was standing and began to watch out at the nothing like his father was doing. His father must not be hungry yet, or he would have noticed the late breakfast. Some of the flock were indeed looking around in the direction of the farmhouse. They were beginning to know what Bennie feared—the farmer was late.
Bennie had a nagging sense breakfast would be more than late today. He remembered the day the farmer’s wife died. Things were not quite the same at the farm since that day. Today was beginning to feel like that day. Who else was left to take care of the farm? Only a few times did the old couple take vacation and someone else fed the sheep. Bennie wondered where the younger girl was today. She may be the only one left who could possibly bring breakfast if the old farmer was not coming.
After the whole flock got the idea grass was the main course today, Bennie mentioned to his father what in the world was going on and what could it mean. His father did not know but saw no issues with trying to find out. He would go near the farmhouse and look around. Bennie told his father he would go with him, and the two left the flock in the field to go through the open barn toward the house.
They got as far as the other side of the barn before they saw him. The old farmer was lying on the ground just below the farmhouse steps, not moving. They knew this old man. He had never even been sick to the best of their memory. Bennie was reminded of the day—yesterday had been market day. He had seen three market days. Now the old man would not see another market day himself. He too had left this earth and would not wake up. Bennie’s father was at a loss. What should they do?
Bennie’s mother showed up about the time he and his father were staring at each other. Her idea was simple. This was part of life; the old farmer must be buried if no one found him soon. The humans did not always think about each other like sheep did. Sheep knew the flock and usually stayed with the flock. She was looking in Bennie’s direction when she said this. She knew he left the farm and had never said anything. Bennie knew a good place to bury the old man if it came to that, and he left to go clear a spot just in case.
Bennie’s father sat on the ground near the old man like some faithful old dog. All he could do was wait. Bennie’s mother went back to the flock. They all did have to eat, and grass was all they would get today. It was still a beautiful day and the birds were signing. They never paid much attention of the ups and downs of the farm anyway.
Bennie chose a spot on a hill short of the trees looking down on the farm. He had often lingered there to enjoy the view. He could think of no better resting place for the old man. Sheep do dig; not well, but they do dig. Bennie had no idea how deep to make his little grave. The farmer was a big man—well, as far as sheep standards go. He wondered how long his father would wait before he would agree to bury the old man. Death has a way of making those kind of decisions for you. It becomes necessary.
It was late afternoon, and no one had come by the farm to check on the old man or the farm. The farm was on its own. The kind young girl, who on rare occasions had watched over the farm, was not coming today. The sheep would not be visited. The old man was not really a shepherd, but he was as close as the flock had had, so they did feel a sense of loss over his passing. He would be tough to bury. It was a long way from the farmhouse to the hill where Bennie had dug the shallow grave. It would take several sheep to drag him that far, maybe even taking shifts to do so. It was a horrible task, but it had to be done. It was twilight before Bennie was able to push some dirt over the old man. The farmer had the best resting place the farm sheep could give him.
Bennie was filthy. He swam through the little pond on his way back to the barn. Tomorrow would be soon enough and he had no idea what the little flock and the now-independent animals would do. He needed a good night’s sleep, and he would think about it tomorrow.
