An ancient fable tells of a short sighted shepherd. He kept his flocks in barren fields, surrounded by rickety fences. And every night when he went to bed he would peer through his thick spectacles and count his sheep.
“…98…99…100” he would say and then retire to his farmhouse. But every morning when he awoke, some of his sheep were missing. “…76…77…78,” he would count as the sun rose over his farm, and he would sigh out loud for his fields were never full. And so to the markets he would travel to buy more lambs and replenish his flock. The lambs he bought were very expensive but also very thin and hungry. At night he would wearily return home and release his new lambs into his dusty field.
“…98…99…100,” he would once again count. But by morning some of the flock were already gone.
The shepherd never understood why