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]