In the early days of shepherding it was known that only the gentlest
of men were allowed to tend the sheep, way up in the hills above
Bethlehem. Each day they would leave their field outside of the cave
they used in colder weather and travel up one side of the mountain, and
down the other side. Shepherds wore large roughly woven cloaks with
pockets in them large enough to carry a day's worth of food. One dawn
about three weeks into December Herbert the shepherd snuffed out his
fire, took a long drink of water...and picked up his staff. The last
thing he did was to pick up his dark brown cloak and fill his pockets
with food. He wondered at how tired carrying the heavy cloak would
make him that day...and he trudged off to round up his sheep.

During the night Herbert never noticed the slight scuffle of tiny feet
scampering across the dirt floor...first one way...and then another.
The tiny nose snuffled around and around catching all kinds of aromas,
but the little animal made no other sound. After carefully examining
the perimeter of the cave, little feet began to drag, and the
unwavering nose dipped farther to the ground. Seeking a warm place to
hide, the little one began to scoot under something dark and heavy, but
with a very good aroma! As he burrowed down into the self-made nest he
curled into a tiny ball and fell softly asleep.

[Part 2]

Herbert gathered up his sheep and started up the long, winding hill.
It was very cold in Bethlehem that night and he gathered his cloak very
tightly around him. He had never noticed before how warm the extra
layers of fabric made his pockets, but oh they were warm. At each
leveling off of the mountainside he'd let the sheep graze a bit and
by the time the sun was at it's height at noon, they were at the top.
Herbert looked down on all of the city and noticed a long string of
donkeys with riders going into the town, and he remembered there was
to be a big count of all of the people who lived in a house that a guy
named David had built. He wondered where everyone would stay.

Safe and warm, tucked up in Herbert's pocket the little one felt warm
and lulled to sleep by the long walk up the hill. He dozed quietly and
softly.

After a short nap Herbert woke up to see dark clouds gathering in the
sky. He wondered if he'd make it back to his cave by nightfall as he
began the walk down the other side of the mountain. He took his last
piece of cheese out of his pocket at the last leveling off of the
mountain, letting the sheep finish eating their grass for the night.
All of the sudden there was a big clap of thunder so loud it seemed to
rock his mountain. He looked up...splat...big raindrops began to fall
on his face. He could remember how awful wet sheep hair smelled and he
quickly herded his little flock back to his cave.

Down...down...down they went. As he reached the cave entrance he
noticed it was covered by a lovely warm yellow light. Somebody was in
his cave. He began to herd his sheep into their little pen, calling
each one by name. They were his friends. As he entered his little cave
he draped his cloak on a nearby rock. His eyes were struck by the
beautiful bright light from a baby laying in the soft fragrant hay. He
noticed the baby's mother and dad looking at his feet. As he looked
down he saw the most wonderfully fluffy sable ferret. It had tiny dark
eyes that were so filled with love as it looked at the baby. He was
afraid it might hurt the child and as he began to lean down to gather
it into his arms, the lady asked him to let it be. Her voice was soft
and her breath like perfume. The little furry one crept closer to the
manger and the smiling baby as it reached out to the ferret and cooed
a soft baby sound. The little ferret, whose name turned out to be Coo
curled up and both babe and ferret slept into the night. And that's
how ferrets came to be so loved and precious to both God and man.

~~  THE END ~~

Mary L. Conley, herbalist, N.D.
Conley Mountain Herbs
Teas, tinctures, flower essences
Payson, Arizona
www.Herbgrow30.com
fax (928) 468-1808

[Posted in FML 5467]