A young wolf came across an old sheep carcass and began to tug the last shreds of dry meat from the skin. Seeing the scavenging, an older wolf interrupted. “Don’t you want a proper meal?” it asked. “A young buck like you should be setting your sights higher than a few meagre strips of rancid flesh.”

“Well, of course,” the young wolf replied with a glare. “This was just an appetizer.” Then he turned and set off down the hill where the sheep were grazing. The older wolf called it back. “What are you doing now?” it asked.

“I’m going to get a proper meal. If that’s okay with you?” the young wolf shot back. “But you’re not going to charge straight into the flock, I hope?” the elder replied.

“Of course not,” the young wolf responded. “I’ll stalk my prey and seize my opportunity when it comes. But I can’t do it from here, can I?” “You are quite right,” the older wolf agreed. “Patience is good, stealth is good. But cunning is better.”

“If you could get close to the sheep, as close as we two are now, close enough to smell their fetid breath, without causing the slightest tremor, what then? Hmmm?” the older wolf continued. “You’d have those stupid animals at your mercy. You’d have the pick of them.”

“Yes, but how? It isn’t possible to get that close,” the young wolf replied. “Oh, but it is possible, and the solution is right there,” said the elder, nodding at the sheep carcass. “Pull the skin tight over your fur, very tight, and they will think you are one of them. Do what they do and they will think you are their friend.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” said the young wolf, still unconvinced. “Oh, it is good, I can tell you. I’ve done it many times over the years,” the older wolf replied. “I once donned the skin of a ewe and its lambs, the little orphans, recognized the scent, and followed me merrily from the pasture to their doom. But it takes a little courage, maybe you don’t have it.”

“Of course, I have the courage,” the young wolf snapped and immediately went to the sheepskin and began to pull it over its body. The older woof helped him squeezed inside, inspected the fit, adjusted a few loose ends, and pronounced it good enough. “Remember, you must do as they do, however stupid that may seem, and after that you can do what you like with them.”

“Alright, I get it,” said the young wolf and he set off down the hill once more, his shoulder blades wriggling and twisting as they got used to the new skin. He kept his distance, out of habit, watchful of whether the sheep would react to him. But they carried on grazing. The wolf took a mouthful of grass as well.

“Bleurgh,” he exclaimed, discreetly spitting the grass out again. The sheep looked up, but returned to their business soon enough. Now the young wolf decided to approach, slowly, pretending to stop and graze as he went, inhaling their scent as he passed by. Pleased with himself, he moved to the far side of the flock where he thought to be ready to snatch a victim furthest from the fold.

But it was from that direction the shepherd appeared. The young wolf hesitated, not knowing which way, or whether, to run, and in that moment of hesitation, he realized the shepherd had not recognized him. The shepherd saw only sheep. He whistled and swung his crook, urging them down the hill together.

Thrilled with his deception, the wolf moved with the flock, bumping against the sheep as they were ushered into the fold. They were making so much noise he couldn’t tell if they were happy to be there or complaining, but the wolf was quite certain of his contentment—he drooled at the prospect of an easy meal and the thought of the sheep’s fear and confusion. It would be like nothing he had ever witnessed.

The shepherd closed the gate, counted the flock and, though he was puzzled at having one more that expected, he wasn’t displeased. After he’d gone, the wolf exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. His opportunity had come. He licked his lips. But the shepherd returned. He’d forgotten he’d been asked to grab a sheep for the pot. He picked the ragged-looking animal nearest the gate.

The skin of the sheep slipped from the wolf’s neck. But as he twisted his head and bared his teeth, the shepherd’s blade sank into his throat. “Well, will you look at that? A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Have you ever seen such a thing?” the shepherd exclaimed to himself, wiping his knife. Then he went to the nearest tree and hung the wolf/sheep there for others to see and be warned.

© Richard Parkin, 2023