The Story of Ferdinand

In a sunlit valley in Spain, nestled between rolling hills and flourishing meadows, there was a cozy little farm. On this farm lived a most extraordinary young bull named Ferdinand. Ferdinand’s days were filled with the scent of wildflowers and the gentle breeze that tickled his ears. Though he was just a little bull, Ferdinand had a heart full of peace and a profound love for the tranquil under the cork trees. While the other young bulls on the farm practiced their headbutts and charged around, imagining themselves as fierce fighters in the grand arenas of Madrid, Ferdinand much preferred to sit quietly by himself. He spent his time marveling at the beautiful countryside, gently sniffing the flowers, and basking in the warm sunshine that bathed the meadow. One serene afternoon, as Ferdinand lingered lazily under his favorite cork tree, a rumbling noise echoed across the hills. Curious, Ferdinand lifted his head and saw a group of important-looking men in tall hats approaching the farm. They had come to choose the finest bull for the bullfights in Madrid. The other bulls jostled eagerly to prove their strength and might, but Ferdinand remained in his peaceful spot. Just as the men were about to leave, disappointed by the boisterous young bulls, a bee buzzed loudly past Ferdinand, right into his nose. Startled, Ferdinand jumped up and began to run around wildly. The men, astonished by his sudden display of vigor, mistook Ferdinand’s reaction for raw, untamed strength. They declared him the perfect bull for the bullfight and loaded him onto a cart bound for Madrid. Arriving in the grand arena, Ferdinand was greeted by the sounds of cheering crowds and colorful banners fluttering in the hot summer sun. He was led to the center of the ring, where he was expected to display his fierce prowess. The matador entered, adorned in a sparkling costume, prepared to face the mighty bull they had chosen. But as Ferdinand looked around the arena, he felt a calmness wash over him. The scent of flowers from a nearby bouquet reached his nostrils, reminding him of his peaceful meadow back home. Instead of charging at the matador, Ferdinand sat down in the center of the ring and began to sniff the flowers contentedly, much to the astonishment of the crowd. The spectators, expecting a fierce battle, fell silent. Then, one by one, they began to smile and laugh, charmed by Ferdinand’s gentle nature. They saw in Ferdinand not a fierce fighter but a symbol of peace and contentment. The bullfight was called off, and Ferdinand was allowed to return to his beloved meadow. Ferdinand went back to his favorite cork tree, where he lived out his days in blissful peace, sniffing flowers and enjoying the sunshine. And everyone, from the farm to the grand arena, remembered Ferdinand’s story as a wonderful lesson—that true bravery isn't always about fighting; sometimes, it's about staying true to who you are. And so, Ferdinand’s days continued, calm and cozy under the cork tree, in a meadow where a simple love for nature made him the happiest bull in all of Spain.