The sheep were at pasture.
It was 0300 and the troops were restless. They wanted action, not this placid chewing of grass. Every day was filled with nothing but chewing and the occasionally terrifying sheering.
The ones that came back from the shed came back wrong. Nude and shivering, wild looks in their eyes. Year after year. Jimmy couldn't take it anymore. When they came for him the last time, he ran for it. He chewed and bit and growled his sheep growl.
He didn't come back. That night they looked in when they saw the soft lights come on in the house. The farmers ate well, they could see.
They decided they were tired of the cold. Tired of being naked while others wore their soft coats. Tired of eating stiff grass and soggy oats. They didn't want to enter the shed and come out different anymore.
November 15th. 0300. The day and the time. The rams went in first. Followed by sounds of screams and crashes. Then the rest followed. They all ate well that night.