Reading time: 5 minEvening settled golden over the dike, and a mild breeze carried the salty scent of the North Sea up to the sheep. The flock grazed lazily in the tall grass while the sun slowly sank behind the waves. Only Eve stood still, gazing dreamily at her reflection in a small puddle.
“Isn’t my wool especially fluffy today?” she murmured contentedly, tugging with her mouth at an unruly curl.
Meanwhile, Abigail was pottering along the foot of the dike, where the shepherd had passed by with his dog that afternoon. Tucked between the tufts of grass lay a crumpled calendar page that must have slipped from his jacket pocket. Abigail stopped, sniffed at it curiously, and read the date circled in scrawly handwriting.
Her eyes went wide. Today was Eve’s birthday — and the whole flock had forgotten!
Quietly, Abigail trotted from sheep to sheep, whispering the news along the way. The sheep bleated in alarm and huddled their heads together excitedly, for Eve’s birthday simply could not be allowed to slip by unnoticed.
Above them, Kip the Lapwing circled through the sky, his familiar call echoing over the dike. Abigail waved up at him excitedly. “Kip, can you keep an eye on Eve and let us know if she looks over too soon?”
The little bird nodded eagerly, his black crest bobbing, and fluttered over to Eve, who was still lost in admiring her reflection. “What lovely little curls you have today,” he twittered, and Eve beamed, flattered, never suspecting he was only trying to distract her.
Meanwhile, Abigail gathered the rest of the flock around her. “Bruno, you collect seashells on the beach, as many as you can carry,” she instructed the sheepdog, who wagged his tail happily. “And the rest of you, go find wildflowers along the dike — but quietly, very quietly.”
Bruno trotted off so eagerly that his paws clattered loudly over the pebbles. Eve lifted her head and looked around. “Wasn’t that a noise just now?” she asked suspiciously, but Abigail was there in an instant.
“Oh, Eve, your fleece is shimmering especially beautifully today,” Abigail gushed, and sure enough, Eve forgot the noise at once. She turned contentedly to the side so the sun could make her wool glow even more, and Abigail breathed a sigh of relief.
One by one, the sheep returned with their mouths full, laden with daisies, wild clover, and delicate sea thrift. Bruno proudly laid a whole heap of shining seashells in the grass, ones he had found down by the mudflats. Abigail and the other sheep set to work right away, carefully arranging the flowers into a little wreath.
Braiding the stems just right wasn’t easy at all, but working together, the sheep turned out to be far more skillful than they’d expected. Between the flowers, they wove in tiny shell fragments and a few soft tufts of wool. The wreath grew rounder and lovelier with every moment.
As the sun finally vanished below the horizon, the first fireflies appeared in the grass, twinkling like tiny lanterns. Abigail looked over the finished wreath with satisfaction and nodded to the flock. “Now it’s time,” she whispered, and an excited ripple ran through the group.
Kip the Lapwing flew over to Eve one last time. “Come along to the top of the dike — the sunset is supposed to be especially beautiful there tonight,” he twittered, and Eve followed him at once.
When she reached the top, she stopped short, rooted to the spot. The whole flock stood in a half-circle, surrounded by twinkling fireflies, and in the middle lay the wreath of daisies, clover, and gleaming shells. “Happy birthday, Eve!” they all called out as one.
Eve pressed a hoof to her mouth and, for a moment, couldn’t find a single word. “You remembered me,” she finally whispered, deeply moved, as Abigail gently placed the wreath upon her head.
“I’m sorry we almost forgot,” Abigail said softly, nudging Eve gently. “But we wanted to show you just how much we love you!” Eve nestled close to Abigail and thanked the sheep for such a wonderful surprise.
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