Ana often felt ill at ease in the world. She sensed that there was something within her, a talent, a purpose, but it wasn't this. Once again, she stood in a crowded line waiting to be sheared. Ana loved being a sheep. Grazing the tender green grass on the hills of her home near the Klamath River, the affectionate bleating of her fellow ewe. It was just the shearing that got her down.

It wasn't that she was opposed to the shearing. Despite the common sentiment among the sheep that the shearing process was a considerable insult to their dignity, on account of the awkward manhandling and the numerous "bad fleece" days that had to be endured in recovery, they took great pride in their collective contribution to their lesser wooly companions. They were all in it together and, in the end, no one was really hurt. No one was hurt, that is, except Ana. She was not physically hurt, rather for Ana, shearing day was a psychological trauma. She didn't mind having her legs bound and the ungraceful flopping from side to side as her fleece was sheared. In fact, she would have welcomed the experience, had she only some fleece to be sheared. Ana's fleece was patchy at best. She simply never grew the thick luxurious wool of her fellow sheep. Once again, she made it to the front of the line only to be briskly flopped on her side by the shepherd's son before he noticed her continued lack of fleece and called out to his father, "Pa, Ana's not on."

"Still?" replied the shepherd in disappointment.

"Still." confirmed the son, as he released Ana's feet and she righted herself dejectedly.

Ana was never "on" in the wool department. Oh, how she longed to have fleece like the others, to feel the satisfaction of fulfilling one's purpose on shearing day. As she shuffled back to the field, the shepherd watched her sullenly, dreading the thought that if Ana wasn't going to produce wool, he would have to be practical and find some other way she could help support the farm. As a cash-strapped shepherd, he couldn't rationalize spending money feeding and caring for an animal that failed to produce him any returns. Ana was occupying space in his fields that could be used by another more wooly sheep. Still, he had always been fond of Ana. He quietly rooted for her and her undeveloped fleece follicles. Unfortunately, it was time to cast away these whimsical behaviors. He resolved to take Ana into town, along with the wool he was about to sell. Though he couldn't bring himself to perform the act himself, the butcher in town would give him more money for Ana than he had ever made clipping her paltry patches of wool.

The next morning broke with cheerful bright rays of sun beaming through the weak patches of fog on the horizon. The fresh green grass Ana was cropping from the hillside fluoresced in the sun. Little did she know, this morning would lead her away from these grassy hills and the disappointments of the shearing shed. Unexpectedly, one of the dogs ran up and herded her down the hill toward the shepherd who was standing by his pickup truck. The bed was heaped with bundles of wool from yesterday's efforts. Ana couldn't help but feel forlorn and inadequate at the sight of it. The shepherd approached her slowly and rested his hand on her head. "Today we're going to town together, girl." as he opened the door to the cab and led her into the passenger seat. There was not room in the bed with all the wool, so she sat in the pickup cab, her hindquarters in the seat and her front hoofs resting on the dashboard. Ana was excited! She had never been to town before. By town, the shepherd meant Yreka. It was the nearest community to them and though it was modest in size and services, there was a broker who would buy wool, and the usual complement of small town establishments, not the least of which, for this trip anyway, was the butcher shop. Ana's ordinarily sheepish face positively beamed with enthusiasm through the window as they rolled down the main street. She had never seen anything like this!

The shepherd pulled in front of the butcher shop. As the pickup lurched to a stop, his nose met with a pleasant aroma that momentarily took his mind off the woeful business at hand. As fate would have it, the butcher shop was next to the world famous Yreka Bakery. Not so much famous for it's fine selection of baked goods, but more for its fortuitous palindromic name. The shepherd loved this bakery. He decided that before going to see the butcher, he would pop inside and get something to eat. He announced this to Ana and added in a fit of whimsy, "Ewe want anything?"

"Baaaahhhh." replied Ana, scarcely hoping he would understand this to mean "By all means, thank you."

He smiled at her and made his way to the bakery door pausing briefly, as always, to admire the lovely symmetry of the words across the storefront. A few minutes later, he reemerged from the same door with a brown paper bag in hand and a much gloomier expression on his face than Ana had expected, given the high spirits with which he had entered. The shepherd sat numbly in the truck next to her. He opened the brown paper bag to reveal the loaf of sheepherder bread that he purchased for himself and the poppy seed muffin that he bought for Ana. He handed it to her. She clasped it between her front hoofs and proceeded to slowly nibble at it. She was delighted! She had never tasted anything like it. Her senses were overwhelmed by its aroma and flavor. Yet, she was distracted from her new-found pleasure by the apparent despondency exhibited by the shepherd. Scarcely realizing he was talking to a sheep, he began to explain the reason for his morose demeanor.

"They're closing Yreka Bakery." he said blankly, clearly still in shock. "I just can't understand it. Tomorrow is the last day. After that, no more fresh baked bread and goodies in Yreka. The baker decided to move to Redding where he can make more money running an industrial scale bakery in a warehouse store."

Ana didn't comprehend much of this, but she felt bad that he was so affected by it. She was still captivated by her muffin. She had eaten it down to the paper wrapper. A bit puzzled about how to proceed, she stared longingly at the remainder of her muffin. The shepherd noticed this and unwrapped it for her as he continued his soliloquy.

"The world is headed for a precipice, Ana. It is being overrun by a consuming culture of growth. No one seems to give much thought to living within the natural cycles of life in a sustained fashion. Everything must be bigger, better, easier, cheaper, but at what cost? As the population grows, each individual demanding more and more material, energy and money, we commit ourselves to a bootstrapping mentality that will lead to a catastrophic end. It only remains to be seen which generation will endure it and how catastrophic it will be. In our highly specialized society, we rely on each other to an increasingly high degree, yet our powers of healthy social interaction are waning. We have shameful little respect for those that we rely upon."

Still distraught and not fully comprehending the fate toward which he was leading his confidant, the shepherd exited the truck and ushered Ana into the butcher shop. The butcher's brow furrowed as he observed Ana's unusual coat. Still, he had no reason to believe it would affect the quality of the meat. He paid the shepherd and Ana was tied up behind the shop until he had time to deal with her. He had explained to the shepherd that Ana would most likely have to wait until tomorrow, because he was going into Redding to talk to the big warehouse store about a lucrative butcher job there. "All the latest meat chopping, shredding, and slicing gadgets there," he pined. "I could process 20 sheep in the time it will take me to cut up your single sheep here." The shepherd shuddered and left to go sell his wool.

The wool transaction went smoothly enough. The shepherd was relieved to learn that there was not a lucrative wool buying job at the warehouse store in Redding that was calling yet another small businessman out of Yreka, although he was a bit distressed by the relatively small amount of money the broker was able to offer him for his wool. He was experiencing increasing difficulty meeting his expenses. Sheep herding was not offering as comfortable a lifestyle as in years past. The shepherd's financial preoccupation melted away as he reentered his truck. He noticed the empty muffin paper on the floor and then gazed upon the two small hoof dents in his dash. The wavy dashboard's forlorn expression seemed to mirror his own. Instantly, he was overwhelmed by a flood of emotion. It occurred to him that he had made a terrible mistake and he was compelled to rush back to the butcher shop to collect Ana, before it was too late. Behind the shop where she had been tied up, the shepherd found nothing but a couple of tufts of wool tumbling to and fro on a gentle breeze. Ana was gone! Disheartened that the butcher might have found the time to hang her on a hook before his big meeting after all, he made his way home, seething all the while at himself over the loss of Ana. Little did he know, Ana had not been lost.

Behind the butcher shop, Ana's olfactory became infused with the smells of the bakery next door. Highly intrigued following her muffin experience, she freed herself by gnawing through the rope that restrained her and made her way stealthily into the bakery. She marveled over the many and varied loaves of bread in the racks, salivated at the sight of the muffins, and became googly-eyed over the fresh steaming cookies. She was experiencing a baked goods epiphany. For once Ana had a glimpse into something for which she felt she had been destined. However, she had much to learn. "How does one make these spectacular treats?" she thought to herself. Her question would be answered, but she would have to wait for the midnight arrival of the baker and his final night of kneading in Yreka. She hadn't been noticed in the bakery yet. Most of the action was up front where the customers were buying their favorite baked goods with glum faces, knowing it was nearly the last opportunity to do so. Occasionally, someone would come back and grab another tray of loaves, muffins, cookies, etc., but no one noticed Ana. She was captivated by the new world opening up before her; however, sheep are accustomed to frequent naps, and all the excitement left her rather drowsy. Ana found a cozy spot behind a dough mixer and fell asleep. It was a good thing, too. She would need her rest. By midnight the bakery was stirring with activity, and it would continue until dawn.

Ana was awakened by the drone of the big power dough mixer, combining whole wheat flour, sunflower seeds, eggs, yeast, butter, milk, honey, and water into a wonderful dough. Initially, the baker had been startled to stir a sheep from behind his mixer. However, the expression of eager anticipation and the apparent desire to learn on Ana's face impressed the baker and he allowed her to watch him execute every aspect of his trade.

She watched dough being mixed, kneaded and braided into elegant shapes. She observed the magic of the yeast causing the dough to rise. She marveled at the transformation of the raw dough to soft, yet crusty, loaves in the oven. By break of dawn she had seen it all, and it astounded her. She knew that this was what she was meant to do. She was inspired to bake, to nurture the transformation of dough to bread, batter to muffin. She longed to bask in the aroma of fresh baked goods and the smiles of happy customers. Just then, the butcher entered the back of the bakery and inquired after a lost sheep. Ana panicked and bolted for the front door of the bakery, accidentally bowling down a child on his way to buy his last blueberry muffin in Yreka.

She didn't know where to go. Without thinking about it, she began wandering into the hills. Ana was still reeling from her overnight experience. She desperately wanted to return to the bakery and make bread, but it was closing. She was bewildered. Never before had she felt so drawn to something and yet she wasn't altogether sure how to proceed. Another hill, another valley. The familiarity of the land comforted her. However, she realized each step was a step away from the exciting opportunities of Yreka and a step closer to the world of shear disappointment. As she rounded the next hill, she stopped abruptly. In the distance she heard a familiar bleat, as she spotted a dozen freshly sheared sheep grazing happily. She knew this place. She knew these sheep. She was back with her flock!

Suddenly, Ana had a vision. As her fellow ewes bleated in the distance, the green rolling hills sprouted loaves of bread, growing vertically above the grass. The sheep cropped them enthusiastically, punctuated by exalted bouts of bleating. Her vision flashed back to the bakery. Only this time there was no baker and his assistants, only Ana and her friends. She saw an all-ewe bakery! Her mind rollicked with joy as she imagined the sight of a row of sheep at a table, each with two tiny hoofs skillfully kneading the dough. And Ana herself at the ovens, particularly well suited to this hot work as a result of her fortuitous lack of fleece. All the other sheep would be wearing fleece-nets to guard against getting any wool in the batter. Buoyed by her fantastic image, she set off to reunite with her friends and share it with them.

The flock was extremely happy to see Ana again; however, the vision she relayed was so incredibly distant from their daily experience that most of them couldn't comprehend it. Still, she was sufficiently inspiring to convince six ewes to join her baking mission. They let no time go to waste and proceeded to follow Ana's hoof prints back to Yreka. The group arrived shortly after nightfall and slipped inconspicuously through town to the rear entrance of the bakery. They broke in with a subtle cunning that would have put a cat burglar to shame. In fact, the expression would surely be "sheep burglar" if someone ever caught a sheep in the act, but they never have. Sheep are that good. They only burgle for noble causes, though. For instance, the disappearance of socks in the laundry is one of the great mysteries of life that would become apparent if only we understood the stealthy abilities of sheep. They steal them one by one very gradually until they build up a sufficient number to tie them together into a makeshift garment to keep warm after being sheared. They especially like to take wool socks--a poignant bit of sheep irony.

Once inside, Ana explained the procedures and all hoofs worked steadfastly toward the goal of baking. Come morning, they had filled the display cases with a spectacular array of sumptuous, albeit wooly, baked goods (no fleece-nets yet). At first there was no one to appreciate them. Everyone knew the bakery was closed. It wasn't until a couple of casual passersby smelled the exquisite aroma of fresh baked bread and caught the sight of the muffins, cookies and scones through the window, that the disbelieving customers began to enter the bakery. All the delectables to which they were accustomed crowded the shelves and furthermore, they appeared to have been made by sheep! As if that wasn't enough, it was all free!

The sheep hadn't been able to work the cash register because the buttons were too small for their hoofs. They didn't quite see the point anyway and turned back the green pieces of paper the customers gave them. The only green stuff that interested them was grass, and perhaps now pistachios for Ana's special banana nut muffins. (They hadn't learned of the necessity of green food coloring for St. Patrick's Day cookies yet). Eventually, someone called the shepherd and informed him of the enterprising sheep. Dumbfounded, he rushed to the scene. He was elated to see Ana alive and well, and was positively flabbergasted at the accomplishments of his ewes. Being a human and a bit more interested in the green pieces of paper the customers were offering, the shepherd began operating the cash register and serving the customers.

"We'll need this to buy more wheat, oats, bran, yeast, rye, walnuts, etc, so all of ewe can keep on baking." he informed them. The shepherd's dog even joined in by chasing a few misguided or otherwise reluctant customers into the shop. Even the butcher visited the bakery. After a tense moment, the shepherd returned the money he had been paid for Ana and gave him a misshapen cookie that somewhat resembled a meat cleaver.

Yreka Bakery did a tremendous business that morning. Eventually all the goodies had been sold. After the last customer departed, Ana went into the back and returned with a solitary loaf of sheepherder bread for the shepherd. He couldn't contain his emotion. His eyes welled with tears as he wrapped his arms around Ana's patchy fleece. A good deal of emotional bleating ensued. After the shepherd composed himself, he sat pensively at the table eating his sheepherder bread and writing in inspired fits. When he was finished, he addressed the sheep.

"Okay girls, I'm going to buy you some more supplies. Maybe I can come up with something to use as fleece-nets, too." to which he received copious excited bleating in return. "Come with me. I'll take you to pasture in the afternoon, and make sure to get you back in time to start baking tonight".

They all shuffled out the door and as he turned to close it, he posted a new sign below the larger "Yreka Bakery." It read:

Yreka, be well
Ana was not on. Saw an
All-ewe bakery*

*This palindromic haiku (palinku**) was written by Rebecca Campbell in September of 2002 in response to a challenge I issued her to combine the constraints of a palindrome and haiku. Her spectacular achievement (the first ever written*** as far as I know) inspired me to write this story which, admittedly, pales by comparison to her work. Clearly the power of palinku is vast when it takes more than 3000 words of prose to present the same imagery that is instantly conjured up by 17 syllables spelled the same backward and forward.

**The term "palinku" was also coined by Rebecca Campbell.

***Ok, so I have no idea whether Rebecca wrote the first palinku in history. I simply enjoy the drama of making such a grandiose statement and, in my opinion, she deserves the honor.