Sheep in Two Pens

Muster morning. Nine sheep. Two pens. Spike wanted equal groups. Suzy wanted sheep who would actually walk.

Nine does not split into two equal wholes, Spike said carefully. Four and five. Or three and six. We choose fair-enough for today.

Suzy explored the yard first. Woolworth led. Bobbin lagged. Static crackled with nerves. Soft eye, she reminded herself — necklace glow of care, not magic.

They counted into pen A: one, two, three, four. Pen B: five, six, seven, eight, nine.

Four and five, Spike announced. Difference of one. That is honest maths when nine will not sit still for perfection.

The Boss’s boots were off-camera. The kelpies did the counting job.

If we shove to make equal, we make scared sheep, Suzy said. Better a one-sheep difference than a wrong rush.

Spike checked both pens again. Four. Five. Same nine. No sheep left in the race.

Equal is a goal. Fair is a plan. Today fair won, he told you.

You can draw four dots and five dots at home. That is the same farm maths on paper.

Nine sheep. Four and five. Fair-enough.