Baa, Baa, Black Sheep
Once upon a time sheep were as important to the lands of the Spanish meseta as they were in England. In fact, fine merino wool was exported from Castile to England. And until the eighteenth century it was against the law to take a merino sheep outside Spain. It was punishable by death. That guaranteed the Spanish monopoly for many years. And Spain being a country of meteorological contrasts between the plains and the mountains, the sheep were kept in the mountains in summer and brought to the plains in winter. Thus began the trashumancia.
It's a purely Latinate word. Tras means "the other side" and humancia comes from humus, "earth." Literally "the other side of the earth." And in the Middle Ages, driving the herds for days from one end of the country to the other, that must have been what it seemed like. But so important were the sheep herds for the economy, that the owners created an association, the Mesta, and controlled the herding and breeding of all the sheep in the kingdom. The Mesta was powerful enough to get various concessions in 1278 from King Alfonso X, el Sabio, among them allowing free movement for their migrations as long as they respected fields planted with cereals, kitchen gardens, vineyards, and other lands that people were not free to traverse. However, the cañadas they established along which to migrate in spring and fall, were theirs and no one could impede their passing along them. In 1418 Juan II, father of Isabel la Católica, renewed the agreement, but the Mesta would have to pay 160 maravedís to cross what was then the small town of Madrid. The agreement remained valid, with exceptions during the Civil War and other disruptions, until the middle of the twentieth century. Then the sheep stopped crossing Madrid, by then a European capital city. But the tradition was taken up again at the end of the century, and for the past twenty-two years, the sheep pass through Madrid, reinvindicating their long-established rights.
This past Sunday the herds passed through Madrid once again. Or, rather, part of it, because now it's such a large city it would take too long to traverse its entirety, and it has also now been surrounded by beltways and highways, making it impossible for a large herd of sheep to cross metropolitan Madrid from one point to the other. But for a few hours one Sunday every autumn it is still possible to see some of the central historical streets flooded by baahing sheep and their guiding dogs and shepherds. Unfortunately, it's not announced until just a few days earlier, so if someone visits Madrid intending to see it, they will most likely be disappointed.
But those who were lucky to be in Madrid last Sunday saw about two thousand sheep flowing along the streets where generally taxis, cars, trucks, and buses hide the city's far-away history. But the sheep still can't cross Madrid for free. The association that now controls the herds paid the habitual 160 maravedís to Madrid's representatives. A pact is a pact. Even if it doesn't allow for inflation after six hundred years.
It's a purely Latinate word. Tras means "the other side" and humancia comes from humus, "earth." Literally "the other side of the earth." And in the Middle Ages, driving the herds for days from one end of the country to the other, that must have been what it seemed like. But so important were the sheep herds for the economy, that the owners created an association, the Mesta, and controlled the herding and breeding of all the sheep in the kingdom. The Mesta was powerful enough to get various concessions in 1278 from King Alfonso X, el Sabio, among them allowing free movement for their migrations as long as they respected fields planted with cereals, kitchen gardens, vineyards, and other lands that people were not free to traverse. However, the cañadas they established along which to migrate in spring and fall, were theirs and no one could impede their passing along them. In 1418 Juan II, father of Isabel la Católica, renewed the agreement, but the Mesta would have to pay 160 maravedís to cross what was then the small town of Madrid. The agreement remained valid, with exceptions during the Civil War and other disruptions, until the middle of the twentieth century. Then the sheep stopped crossing Madrid, by then a European capital city. But the tradition was taken up again at the end of the century, and for the past twenty-two years, the sheep pass through Madrid, reinvindicating their long-established rights.
This past Sunday the herds passed through Madrid once again. Or, rather, part of it, because now it's such a large city it would take too long to traverse its entirety, and it has also now been surrounded by beltways and highways, making it impossible for a large herd of sheep to cross metropolitan Madrid from one point to the other. But for a few hours one Sunday every autumn it is still possible to see some of the central historical streets flooded by baahing sheep and their guiding dogs and shepherds. Unfortunately, it's not announced until just a few days earlier, so if someone visits Madrid intending to see it, they will most likely be disappointed. But those who were lucky to be in Madrid last Sunday saw about two thousand sheep flowing along the streets where generally taxis, cars, trucks, and buses hide the city's far-away history. But the sheep still can't cross Madrid for free. The association that now controls the herds paid the habitual 160 maravedís to Madrid's representatives. A pact is a pact. Even if it doesn't allow for inflation after six hundred years.
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