Sheep Hair
I was thinking about sheep earlier today, and it reminded me of something that I learned a long time ago. My fourth grade class went to visit a farm one October, and throughout the day we talked to the people in charge of the various animals: the man who took care of the cows, the lady who knew all the horses by name, the pig-man, and the chicken-keeper. The sheep were the last. Probably because they were so fuzzy and good to pet. Anyway, this lady was telling us that every sheep has its very own individual pattern of hairs, sort of like a fingerprint. Some sheep have curls closer together, some have slightly different directions or tightnesses of curls on their sides or their necks or their legs. She said that she knew her sheep so well that she could tell them apart just by running her fingers through their hair. She would often go out to them at midnight when she couldn't sleep, and whisper their names. "Hello Winifred." "How you doing, Molly?" Sometimes they would nuzzle her as they slept, and every once in a while she'd wake one of them up. And you know what? Sheep aren't as grumpy when they're woken up. They don't snap at you, they just realize that you're there, and that you care about them. She joked that she sometimes thought that she preferred sheep to people.
It makes me wistful. I wonder if I know anyone well enough to tell them apart just by being in their presence, just by that indefinable aura that fills any room that they occupy. Someday, I hope to.