Lorraine Williamson
Once the rhythm of rural Spain, today it’s a vanishing way of life. But each June, the last merino shepherds of Soria shoulder their crooks, gather their flock, and trace the forgotten trails of their ancestors — slowly, deliberately, on foot.
This isn’t a folk tale. It’s the real, present-day journey of the Pérez brothers, elderly shepherds from Navabellida, who remain the final guardians of trashumancia, the seasonal migration of livestock that shaped Spanish landscapes for centuries.
A journey through the heart of Spain
Twice a year — once in spring and again in autumn — José María, Basilio, and Ricardo Pérez guide their merino sheep from the dry plains of Extremadura to the lush summer pastures of the Soria mountains. They follow cañadas reales, the ancient drovers’ roads once protected by royal decree, cutting across farmland, valleys, forests, and even city streets.
Their migration, still done entirely on foot, covers hundreds of kilometres and takes them through wild holm oak woodlands, the misty heights of the Sierra del Alba, and time-stilled villages like Oncala. Parts of the route are now paved, but much of it remains as it was centuries ago.
Trashumancia: Spain’s living cultural heritage
This pastoral tradition dates back to Roman times but reached its golden age under King Alfonso X in the 13th century. He established La Mesta, a powerful guild of shepherds that guaranteed free movement of flocks across the kingdom.
The benefits of trashumancia go beyond culture. These seasonal treks play a vital role in ecosystem balance: the sheep maintain open paths, fertilise the soil, reduce wildfire risks, and support biodiversity. They are, in effect, nature’s quiet conservationists.
Recognising this, UNESCO added trashumancia to its list of Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2023. But even that honour hasn’t guaranteed its survival.
A festival with a mission
To raise awareness — and perhaps inspire new generations — the municipality of San Pedro Manrique launched Somos Trashumantes, a three-day celebration of shepherding culture. Now in its 15th year, the 2025 edition runs from 20 to 22 June.
But this is no ordinary festival. This is a totally authentic experience!
Visitors can walk alongside the Pérez brothers and their flock, eat under the stars, and learn timeworn skills like sheep shearing, wool spinning, and outdoor cooking. For a brief time, they live not as tourists, but as shepherds — immersed in the slow rhythm of the land.
“It’s not about nostalgia,” organisers insist. “It’s about showing people that this way of life still has relevance. It’s cultural, environmental, human.”
No successors in sight
Yet for all the admiration, the truth remains: no one has come forward to take the reins.
“It’s not an easy life,” says Ricardo Pérez. “You’re out in the cold, the heat, the rain — seven days a week. Young people don’t want that anymore.”
The brothers, now in their twilight years, are well aware they may be the last. Without apprentices, the tradition risks fading when they can no longer walk the route.
More than a symbol
Trashumancia is not a mere spectacle. It’s a reminder of a deeper connection between humans, animals, and landscape — one that modern life risks severing altogether. In a time of climate change and ecological strain, this ancient practice offers a quiet lesson in sustainability.
Along the route, villagers welcome the flock with music, food, and communal celebrations, reinforcing bonds that once tied Spain’s rural communities together.
A future written on foot
Those who join the journey this weekend won’t just be walking with sheep. They’ll be walking through history — a living, breathing thread between past and present. Whether it continues beyond the Pérez brothers now depends not on royal decrees or heritage lists, but on who’s willing to follow in their footsteps.
Until then, the flock moves on. One step, one song, one shared meal at a time — keeping alive a piece of Spain’s soul.