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Part II of the Redfeather Chronicles
The Diary of Mrs. Redfeather
[Editor's Note: Last month's article by Mrs. Redfeather on dogs and sheep elicited a huge response. Pigeons flew in form all over the place with sacks and sacks of letters. The issues raised by Baaa Baaa Black Sheep were so hot and controversial that three of our readers (of whose responses I read) stated emphatically that footnotes should be placed at the bottom of the page. Four agreed with me that articles are much more interesting when the footnotes are embedded in the article itself, facilitating a conversational style of dialogue between editor and writer. Two requested recipes for discarded spaghetti. I lost interest in reading them at that point, and I think we gave the rest to a young chick-scout who came around collecting scrap paper to raise money to go to chick-scout camp.
Monday 12th I went to see Mr. Black Sheep today. He wasn’t at the pasture when I arrived, so I made conversation with a young sheep named Nathan Lambkins. He showed me around the pasture where they live, and the common residence off against the mountain. There’s a cave there that gives them shelter whenever there’s a thunderstorm. A sign nearby says, ‘Adulam Cave’. I asked how they came up with that name, and Nathan said, ‘It was already named that when a family of bears lived there.’ ‘Bears?’ I said, curiously. ‘Yes, they moved to a house they built in the forest. They’re really quite friendly. They only eat porridge, and you can often see the three of them going on walks in the woods waiting for the porridge to cool.’ ‘What are their names?’ ‘I don’t know. We just call them the three bears, Papa Bear, Momma Bear and Teddy. We know the little one’s name because he hates being called “Baby Bear”.’ I was quite intrigued as to how they went about keeping a cave clean and tidy. It appears that they...* [*Footnote: Those interested in how to keep a cave clean and tidy, please refer to the Housekeeping Tips section on page 73] ... After talking with Mr. Lambkins for quite some time, I came to the realisation that this was none other than the wounded sheep that Baaa Baaa Black Sheep was nursing back to health during my previous visit. I asked him to comment on that and he said:
Just then, Baaa Baaa made his entrance. ‘Nathan, please, I asked you to please be careful with your words. “Dingo” is a very strong word to use on God’s anointed.’ ‘He’s about as “anointed” as a boiled lemon, if you ask me,’ said Nathan. ‘I know there’s very little evidence of the Lamb’s presence around him, but we still need to honour those in positions of leadership over the flock.’ ‘But, Mr. Black Sheep,’ I interjected, ‘You called them “wolves in sheep’s clothing”, yourself.’ ‘Only those wearing sheepskin coats, and that was a matter of speaking the truth in love. However, after one has been bitten, one must be careful not to speak out of one’s hurt. When one’s wound hasn’t been completely healed, it’s only too easy to inflict wounds on others. It’s better not to say anything at all when that’s the case – rather, just receive more of the healing balm. ‘Nathan,’ he called. ‘Let me put some more of this balm on your wound.’ Baaa Baaa pulled out a bottle of ointment and began rubbing it into Nathan’s scars. Then, I asked the question I had been waiting for the chance to ask: ‘Last time I was here, you told me of some shepherds who are actually sheep. Can you tell me anything specific about any of them?’ ‘One of them, Reverend Bray, shepherds a pasture not far from here. If you have time on Wednesday, I can take you to meet him.’ I was delighted. We made an appointment and I went back to Holiday Cickencoop, where I had booked a roost.
Tuesday 13th
[Editor’s Note: This entry describes a trip to the ancient McDuck Castle. To read about that, and Mrs. Redfeather’s recounting of the history of how Count Scrooge McDuck left his vast fortune to his nephew, Donald, please go to our travel section on page 35. Also, Mrs. Redfeather learned from a fellow tourist a unique way to keep ones’s eggs warm while one goes off on shopping excursions, or even long trips, as Mrs. Redfeather’s friend was in fact doing. That has been moved to the Housekeeping tips section after the tips on keeping a tidy cave, page 74.]
Wednesday 14th This morning, I woke up, waxed my beak with Henny Penny’s Ox-Red Beak Wax™ that I bought last night from one of the boutiques in the lobby of Holiday Chickencoop, and after preening myself in front of the full length mirror conveniently affixed next to the perch (such luxury!), I must admit I looked simply stunning! I must remember to recommend Henny Penny’s Ox-Red Beak Wax™ to all my hen readers. It also comes in rouge, hot pink and lavender. Then, I flapped down to the coffee shop and had their continental breakfast of corn ’n grub Danish, and coffee, before going off to Adulam Cave for my appointment with Baaa Baaa Black Sheep. He was waiting for me, and immediately we set off across the pasture, and on to a footpath. We passed several pastures where we could see flocks of sheep grazing with their dog shepherds standing, leaning on their staffs. One of them was standing next to the stone wall, and I could actually hear him growl as we passed. He also shook his staff at us. That reminded me of a question I had meant to ask: ‘Mr. Black Sheep, can you tell me why shepherds always carry staffs like that?’ ‘You’ll note,’ he began, ‘That they’re curved at the top. That’s meant to resemble a sheep’s horns, and thus, induce the sheep to follow the shepherd as they would otherwise follow the head sheep. However, a true sheep who is a gifted leader of a flock doesn’t need a staff like that, because the flock will naturally follow him because of his horns.’ ‘Interesting,’ I said. Then, we arrived at the pasture of Rev. Bray. We could see the flock from clear across the pasture with the shepherd standing in the middle. My first impression was, Baaa Baaa was right. From this distance, he did look no different from a dog shepherd. He was even leaning on a staff. ‘I thought you said a true sheep shepherd doesn’t need a staff,’ I said, as we walked across the pasture. ‘Unfortunately, many sheep who have had seminary training fail to rely on their giftings, but rather on the artificial ways and means they’ve learned. In fact, the entire structure of most flocks and pastures makes the sheep forget what a true flock is. It’s not my place to tear down the existing structure – it will one day come down all by itself – but it’s become a crutch. As long as the staff is there to be used as a crutch, I’m afraid that many sheep will never come to maturity, and the knowing what a flock is, nor the fullness of the stature of the True Shepherd. ‘What is a flock?’ I asked. ‘Simply a group of sheep following the True Shepherd – no more, no less. The objective is not all of our own ideas of what makes a flock, like staffs, fences and wooly shirts for the shepherd, but rather, how clearly the sheep can see the True Shepherd in the under-shepherd and in one another. That seeing of the True Shepherd will be what leads to nourishing green pastures and the still waters.’ He stopped talking as we were now coming within earshot of the flock. I couldn’t help noting that the shepherd still looked like a dog. We began making our way by the sheep and the closer we came, the more like a dog he looked. I could see Baaa Baaa was looking confused as well. ‘He was a sheep when I last saw him,’ he said finally, in a low tone. ‘Blessing, Pastor Bray,’ he said out loud. ‘Brother Black Sheep! Long-time-no-see!’ he returned. ‘What brings you out this way?’ ‘I brought my friend, Mrs. Redfeather, a free lance journalist doing a piece for The Chicken Scratch. The expression on Rev. Bray’s face suddenly changed. ‘Oh – yes. I read your article – on “dogs and sheep”, was it – Humph – “neutral perspective” indeed!’ I knew then, there would be no interview. Then again, I wouldn’t have been getting what I came for anyway. This was no sheep, but definitely a dog. Baaa Baaa must have realised this as well, as he proceeded to engage him in some friendly small talk. ‘So how are things up this way?’ ‘Terrible! Those mutts over on the other side of the hill are down to their dirty work again, inviting our sheep to their revival meetings. We pastors on this side are going over there next time to give them their what for!’ ‘Brother Bray!’ exclaimed Black Sheep. ‘You surprise me! You never used to say a bad word about anyone before!’ ‘Oh! Don’t be such a hypocrite! There’s so much bad stuff going on it’s about time someone opened their mouth to BITE – er – excuse me, speak out! Why! Do you know what that so called Reverend Rover just in the next pasture has been up to?’
‘Hah! How would you know? Have you been to seminary? You’re just a sheep like the rest of this rebellious lot! And you, especially! Do you know what they’re saying about you? That you’re nothing but a restless troublemaker!...’ At that last word, he lunged forward and bit Baaa Baaa in the chest. ‘... and a wolf in sheep’s clothing!...’ Again, he bit, but in the stomach. I was momentarily shocked. I did all I could to refrain from running away flapping my wings and squawking. But for the fact that Baaa Baaa simply sat there, looking like he was untouched, I’m sure I would have. Not a single tooth mark could be seen on his body – only a look of compassion on his face towards Rev. Bray, who continued: ‘... and I warn you, Black Sheep, you’re in a dangerous position – out of God’s will you are, opposing His order for things...’ This time, he lunged at Mr. Black Sheep’s middle. Again, he was unfazed. ‘Brother Bray,’ Baaa Baaa said. ‘You know God is doing a new thing, and that He’s looking for new wineskins! You were flowing in the river of God wonderfully! What happened?’ ‘Pah! Be realistic Black Sheep. Everything’s the same as it always has been! What good have all the seminars done us? All this falling out under the spirit and going “Ha ha ha”, and all this spooky stuff! Look! They’re the same gossiping, backbiting, unfaithful lot they’ve always been! A “bride without spot and wrinkle” – indeed!’ Now, he was nipping at Mr. Black Sheep’s head. By now, this was looking so surreal I began to suspect that Rev. Bray wasn’t even aware he was biting as he spoke. Baaa Baaa finally managed to bring the conversation to a cordial finish, we made our salutation, and were off. ‘He’s been bitten,’ said Baaa Baaa, as we got to the footpath, ‘and he’s allowed the venom to seep to his heart.’ The chicken coop was in the opposite direction from the cave, so we parted ways.
Thursday 15th Yesterday's encounter with Reverend Bray left so many questions unanswered, I just had to go and see Mr. Black Sheep again. I set out immediately after breakfast, and waited at Adulam Cave the whole morning for Baaa Baaa, who finally came in around noon. ‘Mr. Black Sheep,’ I began as soon as he arrived. ‘I’m befuddled about yesterday. That Rev. Bray kept biting away at you and you weren’t fazed at all! How did you do it?’ ‘I was wearing my armour.’ He stood up, and drew aside some of the wool on his chest so I could see a sort of metallic surface. The wool was actually growing through it. Don’t ask me how. ‘That’s my breastplate of righteousness. As long as I’m acutely aware of how He sees me – as a son that He loves – then it makes very little difference what everyone else says about me. News about what others think simply bounces right off.’ ‘But,’ I said, ‘he also bit you around the middle.’ ‘... with accusations that I was out of God’s will, and opposing God’s order. There, I’m protected by the belt of Truth.’ Now, he showed me a girdle that went completely around his waist, and also a groin guard. ‘Knowing I’m in God’s truth protects me from accusations that I’m in sin, or out of God’s will. Knowing Him, who is Truth, and allowing Him to keep my heart in a state of purity and Truth, gives me the confidence when accusations fly.’ ‘And then, your head! What about your head?’ ‘There, I’m protected by the helmet of the Hope of Salvation.’ He tapped his head with his fore-hoof and there was a ‘klunk klunk’ sound. ‘I also keep before me the hope of our salvation. He is returning for His flock; there are glorious times ahead; He is perfecting that which concerns us; and He will keep us to that day, no matter how dismal it looks. Of course, it won’t happen on our own strength. He will do it. He intends to return for a spotless bride. Because I’m assured of that, I didn’t lose hope, no matter how hard he tried to bite.’ Then he looked sad. ‘My only concern now is for him. Because of the poisons that have gone to his heart, he’s transformed into a dog. I only hope that he, and other dogs like him can transform back into sheep.’ I left him to his thoughts as I walked around looking at the cave. Later, I asked him why the cave was called Adulam. ‘Some say that this is the very cave that King David hid in while fleeing from King Saul. Now, It’s serving the same purpose it did then, when the cast-outs and debtors of Israel came to David here. Now, again, the disaffected and dispossessed of the flocks of the Good Shepherd are coming here and will soon revive as the “David Generation”’. ‘But wasn’t it named by a bear?’ I asked. ‘You mean Samuel? Yes, Papa Samuel Bear gave this cave to us. I feel like he plays the part of Samuel of old, who anointed David.’ ‘I’d like to meet this Samuel,’ I said. ‘Come by next week, and I’d be glad to take you to visit the Three Bears. They’re quite given to hospitality, and will probably ask us to stay.’ With that, I departed back for Holiday Chickencoop. Tomorrow I must travel back, and at least let the folks at the editorial office in on what’s happening before coming back this way next week to meet the Tree Bears.
For a more in depth look at the Armour of God, read Wearing the Armour of God Read Part III -- The Three Bears
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However, since then, I just happened to find
another of our readers' letters in which the rooster at the local
chip shop had wrapped my fried worms and chips. This reader expressed
an intense curiosity regarding Baaa Baaa Black Sheep, and wished we
would follow it up with further articles. As it's unusual for readers
to be so focused as to inquire on the actual subject of an article, I
immediately dispatched Mrs. Redfeather to find out more about Baaa
Baaa Black Sheep. She was away for almost a week, and then came back
to the office cackling excitedly about her travels. I expected
another article was immediately forthcoming, but instead, she was off
again the next day. A week later, it was getting close to press time,
and still no Redfeather -- and no article. While searching her desk
for some idea where she had gone, I found she had left her diary of
her previous weeks experiences. It's full of all sorts of festinating
facts and interviews with sheep and such, and even a household tip on
how a hen can keep her eggs warm while she is off shopping (without
even asking the cock to sit on them). Anyway, I finally decided I'd
just publish her diary. So... here goes:] 
‘Oh, yes. Just because I asked a question or two too many, that
dingo that reckons he’s a shepherd upped and bit me, he did...’