The Basque Shepherd and the Shepherd Psalm

Old Ferando D'Alphonso is a Basque shepherd employed by one of the big Nevada

sheep outfits. He is rated as one of the best sheep rangers in the state, and

he should be; for behind him are at least 20 generations of Iberian shepherds.

But D'Alphonso is more than a sheepherder; he is a patriarch of his guild, the

traditions and secrets of which have been handed down from generation to

generation. Despite a 30-year absence from his homeland he is still full of

the legends, the mysteries, the religious fervor of his native hills. I sat

with him one night under the clear, starry skies, his sheep bedded down beside

a pool of sparkling water. As we were preparing to curl up in our blankets, he

began to quote the 23rd Psalm. There, in the desert, I learned the shepherd's

literal interpretation of this beautiful poem.

"David and his ancestors", said Alphonso, "knew sheep and their ways, and

David has translated a sheep's musing into simple words. The daily

repetition of this Psalm fills the sheepherder with reverence for his

calling. We take this poem as a lodestone to guide us. It is our bulwark

when the days are hot or stormy; when the nights are dark; when wild

animals surround our bands. Many of its lines are

statements of the simple requirements and actual duties of a Holy Land

shepherd, whether he lives today or followed the same calling 6000 years

ago. Phrase by phrase, it has a well understood meaning for us."

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

"Sheep instinctively know", said D'Alphonso, "that they have been folded for

the night, the shepherd has mapped out their grazing for the morrow. It may be

that he will take them back over the same range; it may be that he will go to

a new grazing ground. They do not worry. His guidance has been good in the

past and they have faith in the future because they know he has their

well-being in view."

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.

"Sheep graze from around sunrise until late morning. They then lie down for

three or four hours and rest," said D'Alphonso. "When they are contentedly

chewing their cuds, the shepherd knows they are putting on fat. Consequently

the good shepherd starts his flocks out in the early hours on the rougher

herbage, moving on through the morning to the richer, sweeter grasses, finally

coming with the band to a shady place for its forenoon rest in fine green

pastures, for the best grazing of the day. Sheep, while resting in such happy

surroundings, feel contentment."

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

"Every shepherd knows," said the Basque, "that sheep do not like to drink

gurgling water. There are many small springs high in the Holy Land, whose

waters run down the valleys only to evaporate in the desert sun. Although the

sheep need the water, they prefer not to drink from these fast-flowing

streams. The shepherd must find a place where rocks or erosion have made a

little pool, or else he fashions with his hands a pocket sufficient to hold at

least a bucketful."

He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths or righteousness for His

name's sake.

"Holy Land sheep exceed in herding instinct the Spanish Merino or the French

Rambouillet," D'Alphonso continued. "Each takes his place in the grazing line

in the morning and keeps the same position throughout the day. During the day,

however, a sheep may leave its place and go to the shepherd. Whereupon the

shepherd stretches out his hand as the sheep approaches with expectant eyes

and mild little baas. The shepherd rubs its nose and ears, scratches its chin,

whispers affectionately in its ears. The sheep, meanwhile rubs against his

leg, or if the shepherd is sitting down, nibbles at his ear and rubs its cheek

against his face. After a few minutes of this communion with the master, the

sheep returns to its place in the feeding line."

Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no

evil ... Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

"There is a valley of the shadow of death in the Holy Land. It is south of the

Jericho Road leading from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea and is a narrow defile

through the mountain range. Climatic and grazing conditions make it necessary

for the sheep to be moved through this valley for seasonal feeding. "The

valley is four and a half miles long. Its sidewalls are over 1500 feet high

in places and it is only 10 or 12 feet wide at the bottom. Travel through

the valley is dangerous, because its floor, badly eroded by cloudbursts,

has deep gullies. Actual footing on solid rock is so narrow in places that

a sheep cannot turn around, and it is an unwritten law of shepherds that

flocks must go up the valley in the morning hours and down towards the

eventide, lest flocks meet in the defile. Mules have not been able to make

the trip for centuries, but sheep and goat herders from earliest Old

Testament days have maintained a passage for their stock. "About halfway

through the valley the walk crosses from one side to the other at a place

where the path is cut in two by an eight-foot gully. One section of the

path is about 18 inches higher than the other; the sheep must jump across

it. The shepherd stands at this break and coaxes or forces the sheep to

make the leap. If the sheep slips and lands in the gully, the shepherd's

staff is brought into play. The old-style crook is encircled around a large

sheep's neck or a small sheep's chest, and it is lifted to safety. If a

more modern narrow crook is used, the sheep is caught about the hoofs and

lifted up to the walk. "Many wild dogs lurk in the shadows of the valley

looking for prey. After a band of sheep has entered the defile, the leader

may come upon such a dog. Unable to retreat, the leader baas a warning.

The shepherd, skilled in throwing his rod, hurls it at the dog and knocks

it into the washed-out gully where it is easily killed. Thus the sheep have

learned to fear no evil, even in the valley of the shadow of death for

their master is there to aid them and protect them from harm."

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.

"David's meaning is a simple one," said D'Alphonso, "when conditions on the

Holy Land sheep ranges are known. Poisonous plants abound that are fatal to

grazing animals. Each spring the shepherd must be constantly alert. When he

finds the plants, he takes his mattock and goes on ahead of the flock,

grubbing out every stock and root he can see. As he digs out the stocks, he

lays them upon little stone pyres, some of which were built by shepherds in

Old Testament days, and by the morrow they are dry enough to burn. In the

meantime, the sheep are led into the newly prepared pasture, which is now

free from poisonous plants, and, in the presence of their deadly plant

enemies, they eat in peace."

Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

At every sheepfold there is a big earthen bowl of olive oil and a large stone

jar of water. As the sheep come in for the night they are led to a gate. The

shepherd lays his rod across the top of the gateway just higher than the back

of his sheep. As each sheep passes in single file, he quickly examines it for

briers in the eyes, snags in the cheek, or scratches. When such conditions are

found, he drops the rod across the sheep's back and it steps out of line.

"Each sheep's wounds are carefully cleaned. Then the shepherd dips his hand

into the olive oil and anoints the injury. A large cup is dipped into the

jar of water, kept cool by evaporation in the unglazed pottery, and is

brought out - - never half full but always overflowing. The sheep will sink

its nose into the water clear to the eyes, if fevered and drink until

refreshed. "When all the sheep are at rest, the shepherd lays his staff on

the ground within reach in case it is needed for protection of the flock

during the night, wraps himself in his heavy woollen robe and lies down

across the gateway, facing the sheep, for his nights repose. "So,"

concluded D'Alphonso, "after all the care and protection the shepherd has

given it, a sheep may well soliloquise in the twilight, as translated into

words by David: Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of

my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

(Reprinted in the National Wool Grower, December 1949. This article was

published in Reader's Digest in June 1950 and republished in July 1980.)

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