The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Part One · The Fleece

High on a hill above a green valley lived a hungry wolf. Every morning he looked down at the fat white sheep, and every morning his mouth watered. But the shepherd's two big dogs always saw him coming. They barked and chased him back into the hills, and the sheep ran to safety.

One windy afternoon, the wolf trotted past the shepherd's fence. A woolly fleece was hanging there, drying in the sun. The wolf stopped and stared. Then a sly grin spread across his face. "If I look like a sheep," he whispered, "nobody will run, and nobody will bark."

He pulled the fleece over his back and tied it under his chin. Then he crept to the stream and looked at his reflection. "Not bad," he said, admiring himself. It was a very clever disguise, except for his long nose and his bushy gray tail. He tucked the tail up tight under the wool.

At sunset, the wolf walked slowly down into the meadow with his head hung low. The sheep were busy munching grass, and they hardly looked up. The dogs were dozing in the last of the sun. When the shepherd drove the flock into the pen for the night, the wolf trotted in with them.

Inside the pen, the wolf tried hard to act like a sheep. He said, "Baa," but it came out as a low, rumbling "Baaarrr." He tried to nibble the grass, but it tasted terrible, and he spat it out. A little lamb with a black nose looked up at him. "Why aren't you eating?" she asked.

"I am saving room for supper," said the wolf. But the longer he stood among the lambs, the hungrier he felt. His tummy rumbled loudly, and his tail began to swish and twitch. At last it wriggled loose and popped out of the back of the fleece, long and gray and bushy.

The little lamb saw it first. "That is not a sheep's tail!" she cried. "A sheep's tail is short and woolly. That is a wolf's tail!" "Baa! Wolf! Wolf!" bleated all the sheep, and they leaped about the pen in a panic. The dogs jumped up and barked, and the shepherd came running with his lantern.

The wolf tried to run, but the fleece slid down over his eyes and tangled around his legs. He tripped over his own wool and went tumbling across the pen. The dogs raced after him. He kicked off the fleece, scrambled to his feet, and dashed through the gate faster than he had ever run.

Over the fence and up the hill he flew, with the dogs barking behind him until he was out of sight. He never came back to that valley again. The shepherd picked up the fleece and shook it out. He was laughing so hard that he had to sit down on a bucket.

The little lamb looked at the fleece in his hands. "He had a sheep's coat," she said, "but he did not act like a sheep. A real sheep eats grass, and a real sheep does not stare at the lambs like that." And all the sheep nodded, and went back to their supper.