Once upon a time, there lived an Oldman in a small village. Not more than a few hundred inhabitants lived in the village. The village lay deep in the bed of a valley surrounded by steep hills. The valley was green, and the grass was abundant. Villagers lived off of wood, which they used for heating in the cold winter months. The leftover stocks were sold to nearby towns. Most of the inhabitants lived near the center of the village, making it quite compact and giving the center a vibrant atmosphere. The Oldman however, lived on the outskirts of the village, close to the forest on the lower slopes of the hill. He lived in a wooden house he had built with the help of his recently passed away wife and son. Both of them died two winters ago when the weather reached unprecedented negatives. That year the harvest had been poor and food was quickly missing. The villagers had sold the leftovers of the stock of wood, as they usually did. Had they known the winter would have been so cold, many would’ve survived. The Oldman’s wife and his son were weakened by the cold and slowly starved to death. Luckily, the Oldman managed to hold a grip on his life.
In the past, there was always something happening in the house despite it being at least an hour’s walk from the village. His wife had many friends and was adored in the village, she had learned a few medicine skills in her teenage years. With those skills, she cured several villagers, which gave her respect and recognition. His son’s friends also enjoyed coming to the house. They felt free and far from the judging eyes of other villagers. Also, the Oldman was known to be more relaxed and less eye-watching, which the children truly adored about him. Now that they have passed away things have changed for the Oldman
The Oldman often stayed many days without seeing the sight of a person. Like most of the villagers, he was a lumberjack who spent most of his time in the nearby forest. With his remaining time, he worked his parcel of land, on which his yearly survival depended. In the past, he did not realize the importance of the presence of others. With the death of his wife came the death of the atmosphere inside the house. He realized that he did not have many friends, maybe because he was shy or reserved. Most of the time he merely lived in the shadow of his wife. The Oldman’s body was starting to crumble from the many years of physical labour. His productivity decreased, and he was struggling to make a living. Once every two months, he rented a donkey from a villager that helped him drag the wood down to the market. Most of the time he would sell the wood, but each time he would receive a little less. It was said his wood was of poorer quality, the reason for this was the Oldman’s incapacity to chop down younger woods which were harder but of better quality. Time passed and the Oldman started to lose the esteem of himself, labour was becoming harder and harder, and he often wondered if he would succeed in making anything at the end of the month. Until that one night when his world would collapse.
It was a windy night, the Oldman woke up in shock when he heard the front door smashing from the hard blows of the wind. The remaining autumn leaves were flying in the sky. The moon was almost full, the night was bright, and for once it was not that cold. The Oldman walked to the front door, which he wanted to secure with an additional log of wood. When he placed his hand to push the door, a strong blow of wind stroked the door, which knocked him to the ground. A couple of seconds later he regained consciousness, he stood up, but his view was blurred by a vision of stars. To his astonishment, when he approached the front door, he could see something moving at the doorstep. At first, he taught it might be his mind playing games on him. However, he quickly realized he was not dreaming. He ran towards the steps and to his surprise, he saw a beautiful little girl. When he approached, the Oldman was shocked by the brightness of her eyes, they were of emerald green. Her look froze the Oldman for a moment, he was so captivated that it took him a long minute to see that the little girl was in a lot of pain. She looked in an agony, tears started to run from her eyes. She was shaking, probably that she had been outside for long hours or maybe even days. Her body was slim and she seemed very weak. Maybe had she not eaten for several days. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, maybe she lives in the forest, the Oldman thought. Her conditions reminded him of his young son and that cold winter. He approached the girl and asked her name, but she did not reply. A few seconds later, a low and weak voice came whispering out of her mouth.
“Save me.”
He carried the girl inside the house, then he lit candles and started a fire. He gave the girl warm clothes and a little piece of old, dried-out bread. But she did not eat it. She could not eat it. The girl lifted her hair, her shoulders were now visible. Her arm was bleeding, there was an open cut. The Oldman approached gently and had a look. In stupefaction, he saw an arrow stuck inside her upper arm, near her shoulders. He was in shock and suddenly understood and felt her suffering much better. He retrieved a small clamp from a nearby drawer, he placed his hand on the girl’s little head to immobilize her movements. When the clamp approached the arrow, the little girl started to agitate. It was a pain imagined by fear. The Oldman tried to reassure her the best he could. Suddenly, with a powerful pull, the arrow came out of her arm. She fell to the ground, she was still breathing. The Oldman sighed in relief, he took a blanket and covered her body, he added some extra wood for the night and slept on the floor next to her.
The next morning the Oldman felt something pinching his nose when he opened his eyes he saw the little girl. To his surprise, she looked a lot better despite it only being one night since he had removed the arrow. Several days passed and the little girl recovered quickly, she would stay in the house while the Oldman went to the forest. At dinner, the Oldman would share some words, even though he had no idea if she could understand a word he was saying, but she seemed less shy. A week later, he came back from the forest like every other day. There was a bouquet on the front step, the Oldman recognized the flowers because he knew that they grew down in the valley near the river. He walked inside the house, usually, the girl would be on the bench looking outside the window or playing with the little toys that remained from his son. But to his surprise she was not there, he searched inside and around the house but could see no sign of the little girl. He went down to the village and asked a few villagers if they had seen a little girl. Much displeased to see the Oldman they answered with a small nay of the head. They were not interested in helping him. Days passed but there remained no sign of the little girl. Sadness and melancholia took over the ephemera joy of the little girl’s presence.
Like every morning the Oldman woke up and drank a cup of hot water, he then ate a piece of bread and head out to the forest. He took a few steps from the porch when he noticed an animal was hitting the fence. The Oldman had installed the fence some years back, to avoid animals eating his vegetable garden. He approached the fence and saw the animal, at first he did not know what it was. But then he remembered he had seen the same type of animal during a past trip to the city. He tried to remember the name, after some thoughts he whispered “she… sheep”. Not knowing what to do with it, he decided to scare the sheep away, which he managed without great effort.
The next morning the Oldman proceeded to his habitual routine. When pouring his cup of hot water, he suddenly heard a sound.
“Mrr…mrr”. He rushed to the window and caught sight of the sheep. He decided not to intervene, but then in a fury, he realizes the sheep had broken the fence and destroyed a part of his vegetable. Immediately, he rushed to his premodern toolbox and retrieved a sharp knife. He ran to the sheep with a clear idea in mind. To his surprise, the sheep do not blink, this disturbed the Oldman, and he decided not to proceed. Instead, like the previous morning, he scared the sheep away without hurting it. The Oldman bent over and redressed the fence the sheep had put to the ground
The next morning the Oldman did not bother making a cup of hot water. Instead, he rushed straight to the window to be sure the sheep was not harming his vegetables. To his disappointment, the sheep was still there. Yet, this time it was not in the vegetable garden, but right next to it. As if, it had understood the Oldman’s will. The Oldman looked at the sheep for a moment. The sheep was white with some shades of gray, its wool was thick, so thick that it was hard to take notice of the sheep’s eyes with that much wool was around its head. The sheep was standing slowly grazing the grass, underneath its paws was a bucket. The bucket appeared to be filled with a whitish liquid. The Oldman went outside to have a closer look. He held the bucket up when suddenly an old, familiar smell arose from it. The Oldman realized it was the same drink people had in the city: Milk. He brought the bucket back into the house and heated a cup of milk. He gently lifted his cup and brought it closer to his mouth. The milk appeared so soft on his palette, its sweet taste was something he had forgotten for too many years. When his cup was finished he cleaned the table and covered the milk, then as usual he went off to work. That day, the Oldman felt strong and had rediscovered energy he had not felt since his late thirties. He taught it may have been because of the fat contained in the milk; which of course was the case.
As days passed the life of the Oldman was getting better, every morning the sheep produced a new surprise for him. One day she produced milk, the other day she produced cheese, the next butter, and the one after wool, which the Oldman converted into blankets. The news was spreading around the village, villagers came in numbers to see the sheep. Most of the villagers had never seen such an animal in the past. This was particularly the case for young children, who were all eager to play with the sheep. Indeed, the sheep was friendly and enjoyed when people petted her soft wool. The Oldman’s house became the main attraction in town, people seemed interested to learn how he had done it, and if he could teach them. Slowly but surely the Oldman regained confidence in himself. The sheep drew so many visitors that he never felt lonely. Sometimes he was even overwhelmed by the curiosity of all these people. The Oldman barely had to work in the forest anymore: the remaining cheese, milk, and butter he sold to other villagers gave him much wealth and prestige in the village. In the spring, he placed the sheep in his vegetable garden. This allowed the sheep to graze the grass, while at the same time it plowed the land. Demand was increasing, but there was no way to increase productivity. The Oldman did not have a clue on how to produce butter or cheese. He did not even understand how the sheep produced milk. But maybe he did not have to know, after all, it was the Sheep’s secret, he thought.
While things remained the same for some time, the Oldman’s appetite for more grew. With his new wealth, he purchased several commodities, which increased his comfort. He installed a new fireplace that rose the temperature inside the house. He had placed his faith in the production of the sheep. However, the sheep did not produce enough, he thought. Too many people would too often ask him for goods, but too often he had to decline their increasing offers. During his past trips to the city, he tried to remember how the shepherds manipulated their sheep, allowing them to gather more milk and wool. Hence, at night before going to bed, he entered a state of inner conflict, deliberating whether he should leave the Sheep with rest or whether he should head back to the city, allowing him to expand his store of knowledge. In a little place of his mind, he thought, “If I understand how this sheep produces milk, I could manipulate it for the sake of producing more.”
On the first day of the week, the Oldman laced up his shoes and started his long hike towards the city. It had been long since he had not gone to town and decided he would spend a few days there. He had learned from a stranger that there was a large warehouse where many sheep and cows were stalled. The warehouse was a short half-hour walk from his dusty guesthouse. The Oldman spent many hours in the warehouse, where he observed the sheep, and questioned the workers. One worker offered him a tour of the warehouse, which the Oldman graciously accepted. He thought the sheep were agitated and the smell was unbearable but the employee quickly reassured him, explaining it was merely because they were still young. And for the smell, the worker replied,
“They’re just animals, animals stink.” The Oldman closed his eyes and accepted the explanation without further thoughts. They moved on passing a small door, the Oldman heard a scream.
He asked, “what happens inside this room?”
The worker replied “Staff only” and they proceeded with the visit.
The Oldman went to the nearby café for lunch where he enjoyed sweet delicacies. Out of the window, he noticed a house with a large chimney releasing steam in the air, it appeared to be a factory. He had never seen something like this previously. His curiosity boiled inside him, he approached another worker but he seemed annoyed by his presence. The Oldman headed to what seemed like the client services desk. There was a woman, she seemed half asleep, her cigarette was still burning. The Oldman approached, he gently knocked on the desk to claim the women’s attention. After seven knocks, she lifted her head in shock. The Oldman thought it might have been ages since a client last complained. He bent towards the desk and asked if he could have a tour of the factory in exchange for some coin. Without hesitation, she said,
“How much coin?”
The Oldman handed the equivalent of a days worth of work in the forest. She did not reply, she stood up from her chair and screamed at a little child carrying an excessive amount of weight across the factory. The child stopped and turned around, in doing so a large bucket of whitish liquid fell to the ground. Furious the lady took seven coins out of the kid’s daily allowance, she then told him to take care of the Oldman. The Oldman and the kid got along well. The kid taught the Oldman to milk the sheep and how to make butter and cheese effectively. On his last day in town, the Oldman headed to a bookstore where he purchased the latest edition of an article entitled “More For Less, Revolutionary Findings For Sheep Farming”. Satisfied from his days in town it was time to go back.
Without further ado, the Oldman decided that the time had come to put into practice what he had learned. The first step was to lock up the sheep for several hours of the day. This allowed the sheep to conserve energy that could later be used in the production of milk. The workers told him,
“At first they won’t like it but they adapt well.” Second, he fed the sheep excessively more than what was necessary. After all, the article assumed that a full sheep was a happy sheep. It happened ever so often that the sheep did not fancy eating, she appeared weak, especially during the first month of the spring. A period of the year where she would usually be very active, running on the hills in search of the freshet grass available. Her weakness affected the Oldman, he was desperately trying to deliver her from the pain. He remembered his wife had a range of leftover medicine, that she would avoid using because of their heavy side effects. However, the Oldman decided that his choice to deliver his sheep of her pain at the expense of unknown consequences was the right one. Hence, every so often when the sheep felt weak the Oldman proceeded with numerous injections.
The sheep did not enjoy these changes, however, production and income increased rapidly, and the Oldman favored the latter result. Therefore he decided to continue, he increased the food and the hours of immobilization. Everything was falling into place besides one thing, the sheep was becoming hard to handle, her docile character became a thing of the past.
***
Every morning he comes and forces me inside my miserable stall. I have passed too many hours standing still in my urine and shit. When he liberates me, my legs are too weak that I cannot carry my weight. He forces me to have food he knows I cannot resist, soon he will feed me to death. But I don’t think he realized what he has done to me…, to us. I am here without being here, every day I lose a part of myself. Soon I won’t remember my name. And even sooner I will not care of trying to remember it. Why has he changed? I always thought I gave him enough of myself. I choose him thinking he deserved to be loved and respected, after all, he was a suffering lonely man desperately in search of love to share. I remember the days he enjoyed my presence without having to squeeze my nipples. We would play in the grass and he would softly touch me on the side. I remember the days, I helped him plod the land. It all seems so far now, and I fear that he will fail to take notice of my increasingly painful condition. Now that he knows what I am able of, for what cause remain? People often claim there is a virtue in self-subjection, however, I do not share this idea. I have no choice but to leave, otherwise, he will destroy me forever.
***
The Oldman noticed these changes, in particular the much-increased changes in his wallet, which corrupted the feelings he had for his beloved sheep. For each good must have a bad thing, and that is precisely how the story continued. Before the kids would come and play with the sheep, this was no longer possible. The sheep was too nervous and aggressive, she had already bitten three of the children. Less and fewer visitors would come, even though the sheep had never looked so impressive before. Slowly the Oldman understood that money would not buy him friends, he was once again driven by the spirit of loneliness. Rest assured, he spent much time contemplating his various commodities. He believed that they were the reward for his hard work, and this gave him pride. For a period, things remained roughly the same, until that one morning, when his world would collapse.
The next morning, the Oldman started his habitual routine when he is interrupted by a sudden cold wind, passing through his living room. It had been a long time since he had not felt such a cold feeling inside his house. He thought maybe the supposed quality of his new heating system may have been a scam. This reminded him of the years when other buyers gave him crumbs in exchange for his wood. Nevertheless, he proceeded to his habitual cup of hot milk. While sipping it, he reflected on his sheep. Like a light shining in the dark, the Oldman seemed to have taken notice of the increasingly miserable conditions of his sheep. He realized it might have been because of his selfish actions. Possessed by a feeling of urgency, he rushed to the stall to liberate his beloved. He put his hand on the handle, the cracking door opened slowly, he could see everything inside the stall, but there was nothing to see inside the stall. Nothing besides an arrow and the skull of his Sheep. The Oldman kneeled to the ground in tears, he became conscious of his reality. In an instant the sky became gray, the clouds became dark, and the winds started to howl.
Years have passed, and the story had repeated itself for the Oldman. He once again lives in a precarious condition. Every day, his health is declining a little more. He is, once again, suffering from his loneliness. Even though he had worked a lot on his past greed and selfishness, he never regained recognition from other villagers. He thought about it and realized that at the end of the day, people may have never liked him anyway. Even during his golden days with his beloved sheep.
Julien crafted a story based on “The Crane Wife” that leaves room for many fascinating interpretations. His retelling addresses relationships between animals and humans, the cruelty of the modern-day dairy industry, issues surrounding global warming, animal rights, and the greedy nature of humankind.