Bella had the biggest, fluffiest, most magnificent fleece on the whole farm.
It had taken all winter to grow.
She was extremely proud of it.
So when the older sheep said shearing day is coming —
Bella was not happy.
“They’re going to cut it off?” said Bella.
“All of it,” said an older ewe cheerfully.
“MY fleece?”
“Every spring,” said the ewe. “You’ll see.”
“I don’t want to see,” said Bella. “I want to keep my fleece.” 🐑
🌾 Shearing Day
The day came.
Bella hid behind the water trough.
Then behind the gate.
Then, because she was found behind both of those, in the middle of a very confused group of chickens who had not been warned she was coming.
Eventually, gently, she was found.
She stood very still while the shearer worked.
Snip snip snip.
The fleece came away.
Chunk by soft chunk.
Until Bella was — well.
Small.
Very small.
She looked down at herself.
Legs. Actual visible legs. She had forgotten she had those.
🐑 The Breeze
And then the breeze came.
The lightest, coolest, most wonderful breeze of the whole spring.
It moved across Bella’s newly bare wool — not naked, just very short and very fresh — and it felt like:
Cool.
Light.
Like being brand new.
“Oh,” said Bella.
She turned into the breeze.
Oh.
She ran three steps — properly ran, not waddled, because now she could see her legs — and the air moved through her new wool like fingers.
“Oh,” said Bella. “Oh, that’s lovely.”
💛 Matthew Runs With Her
Matthew had been watching the whole thing from the fence.
The hiding. The finding. The nervous standing-still.
And now Bella, running in small delighted circles in the new-lamb feeling of her shorn wool.
Matthew climbed over the fence and ran alongside her.
Not because Matthew was shorn. Obviously.
But because joy like that is contagious.
“You were so worried,” said Matthew, running.
“I know,” said Bella, running.
“Was it worth it?”
Bella felt the breeze all along her light new fleece.
“The worrying wasn’t,” she said. “But this is.” 🐑