Once upon a time in sunny Spain,
there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand.
All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump
and butt their heads together.
But not Ferdinand.
He had his favourite spot out in the pasture under a cork tree.
And he would sit just quietly in its shade all day
and smell the flowers.
Sometimes his mother,
who was a cow, would worry about him.
She was afraid he would be lonesome all by himself.
Now, Ferdinand,
why don't you play with all the other little bulls and butt your head.
But Ferdinand would shake his head.
I like it better here,
where I can sit just quietly
and smell the flowers.
And because she was an understanding mother,
even though she was a cow,
she let him just sit there
and be happy.
As the years went by,
Ferdinand grew and grew and grew.
Until he was very big and very strong.
All the other bulls wanted most of all
to fight at the bullfights in Madrid.
But not Ferdinand.
He still liked to sit just quietly under the cork tree
and smell the flowers.
One day, five men came in funny hats
to pick the biggest, fastest, roughest bull to fight in the bullfights.
All the other bulls ran around, leaping and puffing and butting their heads
so the men would think they were strong and fierce
and pick them.
But not Ferdinand.
He knew they wouldn't pick him.
And he didn't care.
So he went out under his favourite cork tree to sit down.
But he didn't look where he was sitting and he sat on a bumblebee.
Ferdinand ran around puffing and swatting as if he were crazy.
The five men saw him and they all shouted with joy.
Look at him go.
Bravo.
This is the one.
So they took him away for the bullfighting day in a cart.
What a day it was.
Flags were flying.
Bands were playing.
They had a parade into the bullring.
First came the banderilleros.
Next came the picador.
Then came the matador.
The proudest of all.
Then came the bull.
And you know who that was, don't you?
Ferdinand.
They called him Ferdinand the fierce.
And all the banderilleros were afraid of him.
And the picadors were afraid of him. And the matador, he was scared stiff.
When Ferdinand saw the lovely flowers,
he ran to the middle of the ring and everyone shouted.
Because they thought he was going to fight fiercely.
But when he got to the middle of the ring, he sat down just quietly
and smelled.
Banderilleros were mad
and the picadors were madder.
But the matador was the maddest of all.
Come on, fight.
What's the matter? Be fierce.
Come on, come on.
Matador, he made very ugly faces.
But Ferdinand just sat and smelled.
The matador, he was furious.
He broke his sword in little pieces.
He stomped his feet.
He pulled his hair.
But still Ferdinand sat just quietly and smelled.
He pleaded with Ferdinand.
Please. Please.
Stick me.
Do something.
Give it to me.
The matador was so mad, he cried
because he couldn't show off with his cape and sword.
So they had to take Ferdinand home.
And for all I know,
he's sitting there still under his favourite cork tree
smelling the flowers
just quietly.
He is very happy.