The Bear Who Counted Sheep
Once there was a big bear who lived in a cave under a snowy hill. Bear was kind, and Bear was very sleepy. When he yawned, he yawned so hugely that his ears folded over.
Down in the valley there was a stone barn and a field of sheep. The sheep belonged to Nan, the old shepherd. Nan had twelve sheep, one dog, and a brand-new grandbaby on the other side of the hill.
“I must go and see that baby,” said Nan. “Bear, will you mind my sheep?”
“I will,” said Bear. “And then I will go to sleep for the winter.”
“I will leave you a letter,” said Nan.
Bear looked at his paws. “I can only read big letters,” he said.
“Then I will write very big,” said Nan.
And she did. Scritch, scratch went the chalk on the barn door, and every letter was as big as a cat. The letter filled the whole door and went round the corner onto the wall. Then Nan patted Bear on his big brown nose, and off she went over the hill.
Bear sat down in the grass and read the letter, one line at a time.
“Dear Bear,” it said. “Thank you for minding my sheep.”
“You are welcome,” said Bear to the door.
“Please do not sit on the dog.”
“I will try,” said Bear.
“When the first snow comes, count the sheep into the barn at dusk. There are twelve. The thirteenth is the dog.”
“There are twelve,” said Bear. “The thirteenth is the dog.” Bear could count to twelve, as long as nothing wiggled.
“Lumpy walks backwards. Count Lumpy by the tail.”
Lumpy was the one sheep who always walked backwards. Lumpy walked backwards to the hay, backwards to the stream, and backwards up the hill. Nobody knew why. Lumpy just did.
Bear went round the corner to read the end.
“Then shut the door and go to sleep. I will be home the morning after the snow. Love, Nan.”
Underneath there was a chalk heart as big as a sheep.
The very next day, the first snow came. It fell soft and slow until the field was white. At dusk the sky turned blue, and the sheep came stamping down to the barn.
Bear stood by the door and counted noses.
“One, two, three,” said Bear. The sheep shuffled about in the snow, the way sheep do. “Four, five, six, seven. Eight, nine, ten, eleven.”
Last came Lumpy, backwards, with a nose pointing the wrong way. Bear was counting noses. So he did not count Lumpy at all.
“Eleven,” said Bear. He scratched his head. “There are twelve. The thirteenth is the dog.”
So he called the sheep back out and counted again.
This time he remembered Lumpy. “Twelve,” said Bear, when Lumpy’s woolly tail went by. Then Lumpy’s nose went by. “Thirteen,” said Bear. Then the dog trotted past, wagging. “Fourteen,” said Bear.
He looked at the sheep. The sheep looked at Bear. The dog wagged.
“Fourteen,” said Bear. “But there are twelve. The thirteenth is the dog.”
Then he yawned so hugely that his ears folded over, and snow fell into them.
Bear was far too sleepy to count standing up. So he lay down. He lay right across the barn doorway, a great brown heap, with his back legs stretched out like a log. He was careful not to lie on the dog.
The sheep wanted to go into the warm barn. But Bear was in the way. So they had to hop over his legs, one at a time.
Hop. “One,” said Bear.
Hop. “Two.”
Hop. “Three.”
The next sheep hopped very high, just to show off. “Four.” The next one hopped very low and tickled Bear’s knee. “Five,” said Bear, and he laughed.
Hop, hop, hop. “Six. Seven. Eight.” Hop, hop, hop. “Nine. Ten. Eleven.” Bear’s voice got slower and slower.
Last of all came Lumpy, backwards, tail first. Lumpy could not see Bear’s legs at all, but Lumpy hopped anyway and landed just right. Bear counted the tail, the way Nan said.
“Twelve,” said Bear.
Then the dog stepped over Bear’s legs, very neatly, and went in too.
“There are twelve,” said Bear, very, very slowly. “The thirteenth is the... dog.”
Nan had said to shut the door. But Bear made a very good door. Inside, the sheep curled up against his warm fur, and the dog curled up against the sheep. Lumpy curled up the wrong way round, with a woolly tail tucked under Bear’s chin. Outside, the snow kept falling, soft and quiet. And Bear fell fast asleep.
In the morning, Nan came home over the hill. There in the barn doorway was a big brown heap of bear, with twelve sheep and one dog snuggled into him, all fast asleep.
Nan counted them. She counted Lumpy by the tail.
“Twelve,” said Nan. “And the thirteenth is the dog.”
Bear opened one eye. He yawned so hugely that his ears folded over.
“Did I do it right?” said Bear.
“You did it just right,” said Nan. “Thank you, Bear. I missed you all.”
Nan did not send Bear back to his cave. She tucked straw all round him and put her biggest quilt on top, and she let him sleep the whole winter long in the barn. Every morning the sheep hopped over Bear to go out. Every evening they hopped over Bear to come back in. And every evening, without waking up, Bear counted them: one, two, three, all the way to twelve.
And that is why, ever since, when people cannot get to sleep, they count sheep hopping over, one at a time, the way Bear did.
Most people are fast asleep long before Lumpy.
