The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf

In the hills surrounding a peaceful village, there lived a young shepherd boy whose job it was to watch over the village’s flock of sheep. Every morning, he would lead the sheep up to the hillside pastures where they could graze on the sweet grass while he kept watch for any signs of danger.

The boy was responsible and took his duties seriously at first. He understood that the safety of the sheep was in his hands, and that the villagers below depended on him to protect their livelihood. The sheep represented not just animals, but the economic foundation of the entire community.

However, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the boy began to find his job increasingly boring. Day after day, he sat on the hillside with nothing to do but watch sheep eat grass. The sheep rarely did anything interesting, and no real dangers ever seemed to materialize.

“This is so dull,” the boy would think to himself as he watched the sheep slowly moving across the pasture. “Nothing exciting ever happens up here. I wish something would occur to break up this endless routine.”

The village below looked small and distant from his position on the hill. He could see people going about their daily business—farmers working in their fields, women hanging laundry, children playing in the streets. Their lives seemed so much more interesting and eventful than his solitary existence with the sheep.

One particularly boring afternoon, as the boy sat feeling sorry for himself and wishing for some excitement, a mischievous idea occurred to him. “What if I shouted for help?” he thought. “What if I pretended there was a wolf attacking the sheep? That would certainly create some excitement!”

The more he thought about this idea, the more appealing it became. He imagined all the villagers dropping what they were doing and running up the hill to help him. He pictured himself as the center of attention, with everyone concerned about his welfare and eager to hear his story.

So the boy stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted as loudly as he could: “Wolf! Wolf! A wolf is attacking the sheep! Help! Come quickly!”

His voice echoed across the valley, and almost immediately he could see people in the village stopping what they were doing and looking up toward the hill. Within minutes, a group of villagers had grabbed their tools and weapons and were running up the steep path toward the pasture.

The boy watched with delight as the men charged up the hill, breathing heavily and looking determined to save him and the sheep from the supposed wolf attack. When they reached the top, they spread out across the pasture, searching frantically for the dangerous predator.

“Where is the wolf?” called out the village blacksmith, holding a heavy hammer and scanning the area.

“Which direction did it go?” asked a farmer, clutching a pitchfork.

The boy, trying hard not to laugh, pointed vaguely toward a cluster of trees. “It ran that way when it saw you coming,” he said. “You scared it off just in time!”

The villagers spent another ten minutes searching through the trees and bushes, but of course they found no sign of any wolf. Finally, satisfied that the danger had passed, they made their way back down the hill, warning the boy to be more careful and to call for help immediately if he saw the wolf again.

The boy was delighted with the success of his trick. For the first time in weeks, he had been the center of attention and excitement. The memory of the villagers’ concerned faces and their urgent dash up the hill filled him with satisfaction.

A few days later, when boredom struck again, the boy decided to repeat his successful prank. Once again he shouted “Wolf! Wolf!” at the top of his lungs, and once again the villagers came running up the hill to help him.

This time, they seemed slightly less enthusiastic than before, and a few of the older villagers looked skeptical when the boy explained that the wolf had run away just before they arrived. But they still searched the area thoroughly and warned him again to be vigilant.

The boy’s success encouraged him to try the trick a third time, and then a fourth. Each time, fewer villagers responded to his calls, and those who did come seemed increasingly annoyed when they found no wolf.

“That boy is seeing wolves everywhere,” grumbled one farmer.

“He’s probably just nervous being up there alone,” said another, more charitably.

“I’m beginning to wonder if he’s imagining things,” muttered the blacksmith.

After the fourth false alarm, the village elder called the boy aside for a serious conversation.

“Son,” the elder said gravely, “we’re all concerned about these wolf sightings. It’s unusual for wolves to come so close to the village so frequently. Are you certain you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing?”

The boy, feeling guilty but not wanting to confess his deception, insisted that he had indeed seen wolves each time. The elder nodded slowly but looked unconvinced.

“Well,” he said finally, “just remember that your job is very important. The whole village depends on you to protect those sheep. Make sure you’re absolutely certain before you call for help again.”

As the days passed, fewer and fewer villagers responded when the boy cried “Wolf!” Some would look up toward the hill and shake their heads, continuing with their work. Others would make jokes about “the boy who sees wolves in every shadow.”

Then, one afternoon when the boy was feeling particularly bored and had decided to try his trick once more, something terrible happened. Just as he was preparing to shout his false alarm, he heard a rustling in the bushes at the edge of the pasture.

To his absolute horror, a large, gray wolf emerged from the undergrowth, its yellow eyes fixed hungrily on the flock of sheep. This was no false alarm—this was a real, dangerous predator, and the sheep were in genuine peril.

“Wolf! Wolf!” the boy screamed, but this time his terror was completely genuine. “Please help! There’s really a wolf here! It’s going to attack the sheep!”

But down in the village, people heard his cries and shook their heads in annoyance.

“There goes that boy again,” said one villager.

“He really needs to find a new hobby,” said another.

“I’m not running up that hill again for another false alarm,” declared the blacksmith.

No one came to help.

The wolf, seeing that no assistance was coming for the boy, began stalking the sheep. The frightened animals scattered across the pasture, bleating in terror as the predator moved among them.

The boy continued to shout for help, his voice becoming hoarse with desperation, but the villagers below had heard his false cries too many times to believe him now. They went about their business, ignoring his pleas.

By the time the wolf finished his attack and disappeared back into the forest, several sheep had been killed and others had been scattered so far that they were never found. The boy sat among the remains of the flock, crying with grief and guilt.

When evening came and the boy failed to return with the sheep as usual, some villagers finally climbed the hill to investigate. They found the boy sobbing over the bodies of the dead sheep, the evidence of the real wolf attack scattered around the pasture.

“Why didn’t anyone come when I called?” the boy asked through his tears.

The village elder looked at him with sad understanding. “Because, my boy, you taught us not to believe you. When you lie repeatedly, people stop trusting your words, even when you’re finally telling the truth.”

The boy learned a harsh lesson that day about the importance of honesty and the serious consequences that can result from lying. He had lost not only several sheep but also the trust of his community—trust that would take a very long time to rebuild.

Moral: If you frequently lie or give false alarms, people will stop believing you even when you’re telling the truth. Honesty and trustworthiness, once lost, are very difficult to regain. The consequences of losing people’s trust can be far more serious than the temporary amusement gained from deception.