Reading time: 8 minA few tourists struggled through the mud in the Wadden Sea. They had set off immediately after the water had slowly receded towards the horizon.
“Typical beginner’s mistake,” smiled Abigail the sheep, who was eating a few juicy blades of grass on the dyke. She often watched the mudflat walkers with great amusement.
Sometimes the sheep even made a bet among themselves as to which of the tourists would be the first to lose a colorful rubber boot in the mudflats.
But today Abigail was a little distracted. Early in the morning, she had discovered that the gate to the apple farm was open.
Never before had Abigail or the other sheep entered the old farmhouse, as the farmer was always very careful to keep the gate well locked.
“They look delicious, mmh!” thought Abigail and ran down the dyke. Now she was standing right in front of the fence. A gnarled old branch was hung with so many red apples that it almost threatened to break off.
“A few more days and the apples will surely end up in the meadow,” Abigail thought. But the longer she looked at the crunchy fruit, the more her mouth watered.
“I can go and see if any apples have already fallen on the ground. The farmer certainly won’t miss them”. And so she carefully made her way to the gate.
After she couldn’t spot anyone, she looked around the small apple orchard and hungrily searched for fallen apples.
But it was in vain. Abigail was disappointed. The gate was open once and she couldn’t try an apple.
Then she suddenly had an idea. There were some old wooden crates next to the old tractor. “If I stacked these crates on top of each other, I could certainly get to the branches!”.
Abigail tried to move the boxes with her nose. But they were just far too heavy. “I need help and I already know where to find it”.
She made her way back to the flock and told all the sheep about her discovery and her plan. Together they thought about how they could use the empty crates as a ladder to get to the delicious apples.
Quietly and as inconspicuously as possible, the entire flock of sheep moved towards the apple farm. Together they stacked the crates under the tree with the heaviest branches.
The ripest and largest fruits were hanging there and the sheep enjoyed every single bite. So it went on day after day. The gate simply remained open.
But one morning, Abigail noticed that there were very few apples left on the trees. Sluggish and full, she lay down in front of the fence.
Suddenly she was startled by a loud engine noise. She got up in an instant and stretched her head over the fence. She saw that the apple farmer was back and was just about to go to his trees with the wheelbarrow.
Abigail could see that he suddenly grabbed his forehead and spoke to someone. But she couldn’t make out who.
“Oh dear. Where have all my apples gone?” Then he looked around and suddenly turned his gaze to the open gate. He walked towards the fruit trees and saw all the nibbled apple remains on the ground.
“My entire harvest is gone. Who did this to me? I can hardly host the apple festival this year!” The farmer looked sad and desperate. Abigail had never seen him like this before.
“Oh dear, what have I done?” she thought, watching the other lazy sheep from a distance. Only now did she realize the implications.
The farmer now had no more apples to sell at the weekly market. And apparently he wanted to organize the famous apple festival this year. But without apples, no festival. Abigail understood that too.
Abigail felt very sorry for the farmer. “I have to think about how to put this right as soon as possible,” she thought. Then she remembered her grandmother’s words. “If you cause damage, you have to repair it!”
She looked at the herd, lost in thought. She spotted her friend Eve. She was the most beautiful sheep girl in the flock and clearly enjoyed being admired by everyone.
Her wool shone silky and felt very soft. Eve liked to look at herself in the puddles and ditches and always had new ideas for how she could adorn herself.
She loved it when her coat wasn’t shorn for a long time. Then she sometimes asked Abigail to braid her a few plaits. Afterwards, her fur curled even more beautifully than before.
Or she collected berries, crushed them and had the color dyed into her fur. Today Eve had green, pink and purple stripes in her fur. “How did she do that again?” asked Abigail, fascinated.
A thought popped into her head: “We haven’t had our wool shorn yet this year. Shearing normally takes place in midsummer and some sheep would like to get rid of their thick wool.”
Looking at her friend, Abigail suddenly thought of the ingenious solution. “Yes, that’s exactly it! The solution is our wool… The fact that the shearing hasn’t taken place yet is perfect. We’ll give it to the farmer as compensation.”
Abigail walked through all the sheep in the flock and told her about the sad farmer who now had no more harvest and how they could make it up to her together.
The sheep were immediately enthusiastic about the idea and were willing to support Abigail in her plan.
Eve in particular was full of enthusiasm and was keen to help make the wool as beautiful as possible. She was now able to share her knowledge of braiding and dyeing with the others.
They began to organize a division of tasks among themselves. Dolly, the oldest sheep, agreed to do the shearing.
For several years, she had watched the entire herd being sheared. She looked around and said: “I saw large baskets in the shelter we use when it rains, and there was a pair of shears in one of them. With a bit of practice, I’ll get the hang of it”.
The other sheep nodded confidently and distributed further tasks among themselves. Eve ordered them to collect berries and herbs to make dye. Others were to collect the wool after shearing, dye it, sort it and then fill the baskets with it.
Abigail was the first to make herself available and found it quite pleasant to be freed from the thick wool. When her wool successfully fell to the ground, the other sheep’s fear disappeared and the flock dutifully joined the queue for Dolly’s shearing.
Dolly did it quite skillfully and held the scissors securely in her claws. She cut very carefully and didn’t remove all the wool, as she didn’t want the shepherd to notice. All the animals looked a bit tattered, but the wool grew back, they consoled themselves.
It took them almost two days to fill all the baskets with the beautiful wool. Then they loaded the heavy cargo onto an old trailer that was standing unused at the gate. Together they rolled it to the apple farm with all their might.
It was only at dusk that they unloaded the filled baskets undisturbed, carefully wrapped the wool into neat bales and placed them under the largest apple trees to protect them from the wind and rain. They brought the baskets back and waited eagerly for the next day.
When the apple farmer finally appeared in the field the next morning, he discovered the neatly lined-up bales.
Curious, he came closer and looked at the fluffy, soft objects. “What’s that?” he asked himself a little skeptically at first and then glanced at the other trees.
He now walked up and down the field and noticed that each bale was more beautiful than the next. He paused for a moment.
But then Abigail heard him shout loudly: “I’ve got it: I may not have many apples to sell this year, but I have the most beautiful wool in the most amazing colors. ”
He glanced over the fence and saw the flock of sheep dozing in the distance. “I can’t explain it, but I’ve always been able to rely on you!”
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