Twelve Sheep, One Bridge

Joaquin works on a sheep farm in the hills. He has twelve sheep and one old dog. The dog is called Nube. She is grey and slow, but she knows her job.

This morning, the sky is dark in the west. Joaquin looks at it and shakes his head. "Rain by noon," he says. "Maybe a big storm."

The sheep are in the high field. Their grass is almost gone. Across the stream, the low field has fresh green grass. Today is the day to move them.

Joaquin walks up the hill with Nube. The sheep look up. They are white and round. They all chew at the same time.

"Come on, ladies," he says. "Breakfast is on the other side."

The path goes down to the stream. A small wooden bridge crosses the water. It is old, but it is strong. The sheep stop in front of it.

Joaquin walks onto the bridge. "See? It is fine," he says.

The sheep do not move. A big sheep looks at the stream. She does not like it. Her name is Dama, and she is the leader. If Dama stays, all the sheep stay.

Nube runs behind the group and barks once. She is slow, but the sheep listen to her. The sheep push closer together. But nobody goes onto the bridge.

"Okay," says Joaquin. "Plan two."

He gets a bucket of grain from the truck. He shakes it, and the grain makes a nice sound. The sheep lift their heads. Joaquin stands on the bridge and holds out the bucket. Dama puts one foot on the first board. Then she steps back.

"Not today?" says Joaquin. He looks at the sky. It is darker now. A cold wind moves the grass.

"Plan three," he says.

He takes an old blanket from the truck. He lays it over the boards of the bridge. Now the bridge looks soft, like a road of wool.

Dama puts her nose down and smells the blanket. It smells like the farm. She walks onto it slowly. One step, two steps, three steps.

Then the second sheep follows. The third. The fourth. Soon the sheep run across in a line. Their feet go tap, tap, tap on the wood.

Joaquin counts them. "Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven." He stops. "Eleven?"

He counts again. Eleven. One sheep is not here.

Nube lifts her nose and looks back up the hill. Then she runs away. Joaquin follows her to the high field. Behind a tall rock, a small sheep stands alone. Her foot is in a hole in the ground. She calls out in a thin voice.

Joaquin kneels. He holds the small sheep and moves her foot slowly. It comes out of the hole. She stands up, shakes, and looks at him.

"You are a lucky girl," he says. He carries her down the hill in his arms.

At the bridge, the first drops of rain fall. Joaquin puts the little sheep down on the blanket. She runs after her friends.

He counts again. "Twelve."

Rain falls hard on the hills. Joaquin picks up the blanket. He puts it over his head. Then he walks across the bridge with Nube. He laughs in the storm.