o Se I) | a D Cornell University Library Bthaca, Nem York BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE FISKE ENDOWMENT FUND THE BEQUEST OF WILLARD FISKE LIBRARIAN OF THE UNIVERSITY 1868-1883 1905 ‘ornell University Libra nexplored Spain, Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924016410387 UNEXPLORED SPAIN ABEL CHAPMAN’S WORKS BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS. First Edition, 1889; — -—,, Second Edition, 1907. WILD SPAIN. (WITH W. J.B.) 1893. WILD NORWAY. 1897. ART OF WILDFOWLING. 1896. ON SAFARI (IN BRITISH EAST AFRICA). 1908. UNEXPLORED SPAIN. (WITH W. J.B.) 1910. H.M. KinG ALFONSO NIIT SPEARING A BOAR. UNEXPLORED SPAIN BY ABEL CHAPMAN AUTHOR OF ‘WILD SPAIN,’ ‘WILD NORWAY,’ ‘ON SAFARI,’ ETC. AND WALTER J. BUCK BRITISH VICE-CONSUL AT JEREZ AUTHOR OF ‘WILD SPAIN’ WITH 209 ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOSEPH CRAWHALL, E. CALDWELL, AND ABEL CHAPMAN AND FROM PHOTOGRAPHS LONDON EDWARD ARNOLD 1910 mn All rights reserved INSCRIBED BY GRACIOUS PERMISSION TO THEIR MAJESTIES KING ALFONSO XIII. HIMSELF AN ACCOMPLISHED SPORTSMAN AND QUEEN VICTORIA EUGENIA OF SPAIN WITH DEEP RESPECT BY THEIR MAJESTIES’ GRATEFUL AND DEVOTED SERVANTS THE AUTHORS Preface THE undertaking of a sequel to Wild Spain, we are warned, is dangerous. The implication gratifies, but the forecast alarms not. Admittedly, in the first instance, we occupied a virgin field, and naturally the almost boyish enthusiasm that character- ised the earlier book—and probably assured its suecess—has in some degree abated. But it’s not all gone yet; and any such lack is compensated by longer experience (an aggregate, between us, of eighty years) of a land we love, and the sounder apprecia- tion that arises therefrom. Our own resources, moreover, have been supplemented and reinforced by friends in Spain who repre- sent the fountain-heads of special knowledge in that country. No foreigners could have enjoyed greater opportunity, and we have done our best to exploit the advantage—so far, at least, as steady plodding work will avail; for we have spent more than two years in analysing, checking and sorting, selecting and eliminating from voluminous notes accumulated during forty years. The concentrated result represents, we are convinced, an accurate—though not, of course, a complete—exposition of the wild-life of one of the wildest of European countries. No, for this book and its thoroughness neither doubt nor fear intrudes; but we admit to being, in two respects, out of touch with modern treatment of natural-history subjects. Possibly we are wrong in both; but it has not yet been demons- trated, by Euclid or other, that a minority even of two is neces- sarily so? Nature it is nowadays customary to portray in somewhat lurid and sensational colours—presumably to humour a “popular taste.” Reflection might suggest that nothing in Nature is, in fact, sensational, loud, or extravagant; but the lay public possess no such technical training as would enable vii Vill Unexplored Spain them to discern the line where Nature stops and where fraud and “faking” begin. At any rate we frequently read purring approval of what appears to us meretricious imposture, and see writers lauded as constellations whom we should condemn as charlatans. Beyond the Atlantic President Roosevelt (as he then was) went bald-headed for the “ Nature-fakers,” and in America the reader has been put upon his guard. If he still likes “sensations”—well, that’s what he likes. But he buys such fiction forewarned. In the illustration of wild-life our views are also, in some degree, divergent from current ideas. Animal-photography has developed with such giant strides and has taught us such valuable lessons (for which none are more grateful than the Authors), that there is danger of coming to regard it, not as a means to an end but as the actual end itself. While photography promises uses the value of which it would be difficult to exaggerate, yet it has defects and limitations which should not be ignored. First as regards animals in motion ; the camera sees too quick—-so infinitely quicker than the human eye that attitudes and effects are portrayed which we do not, and cannot see. Witness a photograph of the finish for the Derby. Galloping horses do not figure so on the human retina—with all four legs jammed beneath the body like a dead beetle. No doubt the camera exhibits an unseen phase in the actual action and so reveals its process; but that phase is not what mortals see. Similarly with birds in flight, the human eye only catches the form during the instantaneous arrest of the wing at the end of each stroke—in many cases not even so much as that. But the camera snaps the whirling pinion at mid-stroke or at any intermediate point. The result is altogether admirable as an exposition of the mechanical processes of flight; but it fails as an illustration, inasmuch as it illustrates a pose which Nature has expressly concealed from our view. Secondly, in relation to still life. Here the camera is not only too quick, but too faithful. A tiny ruffled plume, a feather caught up by the breeze with the momentary shadow it casts, even an intrusive bough or blade of grass—all are repro- Preface 1X duced with such rigid faithfulness and conspicuous effect that what are in fact merest minute details assume a wholly false proportion, mislead the eye, and disguise the whole picture. True, these things are actually there; but the human eye enjoys a faculty (which the camera does not) of selecting its objective and ignoring, or reducing to its correct relative value each extrinsic detail; of looking, as it were, through obstacles and concentrating its power upon the one main subject of study. The portrayal of wildfowl presents a peculiar difficulty. This group differs in two essential characters from the rest of the bird-world. Though clad in feathers, yet those feathers are not “feathery.” Rather may they be described as a steely water- tight encasement, as distinct from the covering, say of game-birds as mackintosh differs from satin. Each plume possesses a com- pactness of web and firmness of texture that combine to produce a rigidity, and this, it so happens, both in form and colour. For in this group the colours, too, or patterns of colour, are clean-cut, the contrasts strong and sharply defined. The plumage of wild- fowl, in short, is characterised by lack of subdued tints and half- tones. That is its beauty and its glory; but the fact presents a stumbling-block to treatment, especially in colour. The difficulty follows consequentially. Subjects of such char- acter and crude coloration defy accustomed methods. That is not the fault of the artist; rather it reveals the limitations of Art. Just as in landscape distance ever demands an “atmosphere” more or less obliterative of distinctive detail afar (though such detail may be visible to non-artistic eyesight miles away), so in birds of sharply contrasted colouring the needed effect can only (it would appear) be attained by processes of softening which are not, in fact, correct, and which ruin the real picture as designed by Nature. No wild bird (and wildfowl] least of all) can be portrayed from captive specimens—still less from bedraggled corpses selected in Leadenhall market. In the latter every essential feature has disappeared. The ruftled remains resemble the beauty of their originals only as a dish-clout may recall some previous existence X Unexplored Spain as a damask serviette. Living captives at least give form; but that is all. The loss of freedom, with all its contingent perils, involves the loss of character, the pride of life, and of independ- ence. Once remove the first essential element—the sense. of instant danger, with all that the stress and exigencies of wild-life import—and with these there vanish vigilance, carriage, spright- liness, dignity, sometimes even self-respect. Not a man who has watched and studied wild beasts and wild birds in their native haunts, glorified and ennobled by self- conscious aptitude to prevail in the ceaseless “struggle for existence,” but instantly recognises with a pang the different demeanour of the same creatures in captivity, albeit carefully tended in the best zoological gardens of the world. To Mr. Joseph Crawhall (cousin of one author) we and our readers are indebted for a series of drawings that speak for themselves. Further, we desire most heartily to thank H.R.H. the Duke of Orleans for notes and photographs illustrative both of Baetican scenery and of the wild camels of the marisma; also the many Spanish and Anglo-Spanish friends whose assistance is specifically acknowledged, passim, in the text. Should some slight slip or repetition have escaped the final revision, may we crave indulgence of critics? “Tis not care that lacks, but sheer mnemonics. In a work of (we are told) 150,000 words the mass of manuscript appals, and to detect every single error may well prove beyond our power. We have lost, moreover, that guiding eye and pilot-like touch on the helm that helped to steer our earlier venture through the shoals and seething whirlpools that ever beset voyages into the unknown. A. ©. W. J. B. BritisH VIcE-CONSULATE, JEREZ, December 1910. IV. XIII. XIV. KV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX, XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV, Contents . UNEXPLORED Spain: IntRopuctoRy i dy (Continued) . Tue Coro DoNana: Our Historic Huntine-Grounp (A Foreworp BY Stir Maurice pe Bunsen, P.C., G.C.M.G., G.C.V.O., Brivis AMBASSADOR AT MapRID) THe Coro DoNana: NotEs on its PuystcaAn Formation, Fauna, AND Rep DEER ANDALUCIA AND Its Bia Game: Srini-Huntine Witp-Boar “Our Lapy or THE Dew”: THE PILGRIMAGE TO THE SHRINE OF Nuestra SeENoRA DEL Rocfo THe MARISMAS OF GUADALQUIVIR WILDFOWL-SHOOTING IN THE MARISMAS . Winp-GEESE IN SPAIN: THEIR Species, Haunts, anD Haprits . WiLD-GEESE ON THE SanpD-HILLs . Some RecorpDs IN SPANISH WILDFOWLING THe SpanisH IBEX Sierra Moréna: [Bex es Rep DEER AND Boar PERNALES La Mancna Tue SpaNisH Buuu-Fieut Tue SpanisH Fieutine-BuLL SIERRA DE GREDOS % : [pex-Huntine An ABANDONED PRovINCE: EsTREMADURA. Las Hurprs (ESTREMADURA) AND THE SavaGE TRIBES THAT INHABIT THEM THE Great BustarD (Continued) Xl ” PAGE 30 35 54 70 82 88 105 114 125 133 139 147 158 174 183 192 200 208 216 225 234 242 256 <1 Unexplored Spain CHAP, XXVI. FLAMINGOES XXVII. WILD CAMELS xxvi. ArrER CHAMOIS IN THE ASTURIAS XxIx. HIGHLANDS oF ASTURIAS xxx. THE SrerrA NevADA XXXI. (Continued) XXX. VALENCIA XXxlI1, SMALL-GaME SHOOTING IN SPAIN XXXIV. ALIMANAS, oR THE Minor Beasts or CHASE xxxv, Our “Home-Mountains”: THE SeRRANfA DE RonDA XXXVI. (Continued) . us ” ” xxxvir. A Spanish System or WILDFowLING: THE “CABRESTO” OR StaLKine-Horse . ixxvur. THE “Corros,” oR MassING oF WILDFOWL IN SPRING FOR THEIR NortHern MicRATION XXxIx. SpRInG-TIME IN THE MARISMAS XL. SKETCHES oF SpanisH Brirp-Lire APPENDIX INDEX PAGE 265 275 283 294 301 311 321 328 337 347 360 371 376 381 392 407 413 List of Plates H.M. Kine Atronso XIII. sprarine a Boar Frontisptece FACING PAGE TypicaL LanpscaPE In Coto DoNana 30 Eeret Heronry at Sanrouarta, Coto DoNana 32 Rep DsEeR In DoNana. From a Drawing by Joseph Crawhall 36 THREE ViEWs IN Coto DoNana: (1) Samaran Sanp-Dunes; (2) TRans- PORT; (3) A CorRAL, OR PINEWOOD ENCLOSED By SAND 40 Rep Drser. From Drawings by Joseph Crawhall 46 Inspiring MoMENtTS 51 Guyning-Punt IN THE MARISMA 90 WILp-GoosE SHOOTING ON THE SAND-HILLS 90 VasQUEZ APPROACHING WILDFOWL WITH CABRESTO-Pony 90 StancHrEon-Guy IN THE Marisma—Dawn 106 WILD-GEESE IN THE MaRrIsmMa 122 SpanisH Ipex IN SIERRA DE GREDOS 140 Heaps oF SPANISH IBEX 152 Rep-DreeR Heaps, SrerRa Morina 156 Wour sHot In SigRRA Moréwa, Marcu 1909 158 Huntsman with Caracoua, SIERRA Mortna 158 Pack oF PopENcos, SIERRA Morina 158 Witp-BoaR, WEIGHING 200 LBS. 162 Tue Recorp Heap (Rep Derr), Sierra Mortna. 162 Rep Deer. From Drawings by Joseph Crawhall 166 Rep Derr. From Drawings by Joseph Crawhall 170 Witp-Boar. From Drawings by Joseph Crawhall 170 Rep-DeErR Heaps, Sierra Morina 179 Buuu-Ficatine. From a Drawing by Joseph Crawhall 194 Buuu-Fiextine. From a Drawing by Joseph Crawhall 198 Artzr tHE Stroke. From a Drawing by Joseph Crawhall . 202 xili KIV SCENES IN SIERRA DE GRE&DOS AT THE APEX OF ALL THE SPAINS” Unexplored Spain FACING PAGE [wo Spanish Ipex sHot In SIERRA DE Gripos, JuLy 1910 $REAT BustarD SLENDER-BILLED CURLEW 3REAT BustarD “SHOWING OFF” FLAMINGOES ON THEIR NESTS WILD CAMELS | SAPTURING A WILD CAMEL IN THE MARISMA Tuer Homer or THE CHAMOIS. PAKS OF SrerRA NEVADA Nest oF GRIFFON Royal SHoorine aT THE PaRDO, NEAR MaDRIp Illustrations in the Text Lammergeyer (Gypaétus barbatus) Woodchat Shrike (Lantus pomeranus) Griffon Vulture (Gyps fulvus) Wooden Plough-share Cetti’s Warbler (Sylvia cettzz) Dartford Warbler (Sylvia undata) . Fantail Warbler (Ctsticola cursitans) Rock-Thrush (Petrocinela saxatilis) A Village Posada Serin (Sertnus hortulanus) Bonelli’s Eagle (Aquila bonellit) Black Vulture (Vultur monachus) White-Faced Duck (Erismatura leuco- cephala) Spanish Imperial Eagle Spanish Lynx Greenshank (Totanus canescens) Sketch-Map of Delta of Guadalquivir Marsh-Harrier (Circus aeruginosus). “Silent Songsters ” Blackstart (Ruticilla titys) Great Spotted Cuckoo (Oxylophus glan- darius) “ Globe-Spanners ” “ Confidence ” Abnormal Cast Antler Egret “Suspicion ” Altabaca (Scrofularia) Tomillo de Arena “What’s This?” Antlers Stag “taking the Wind” Sylvia melanocephala Reed-Climbers Great Grey Shrike (Lantus meridionalis) Big 216 220 250 250 260 272 276 280 286 306 306 334 PAGE 39 39 41 42 43 44 45 49 51 51 52 56 57 60 61 62 Spanish Green Woodpecker (Gecinus sharpet) 63 Tarantula 64 Illustrations Stag—as he fell . Hoopoes at Jerez, March 19, 1910 “Room for Two” Wild-Boar—at bay Wild-Boar—“ Bolted past” Wild-Boar Praying Mantis Avocet Samphire Greylag Geese White-Eyed Pochard (Fuligula nyroca) “ Flamingoes over ” Pochard (Fuligula ferina) Flight of Flamingoes Wild-Geese alighting Wildfowl in the Marisma Flamingoes Stilt Godwits Root of Spear-Grass System of driving Wild-Geese Shelters for driving Wild-Geese Godwits Wild-Geese alighting on Sand-Hills Wild-Geese Godwits Sketch-Map of the Nucléo Central of Grédos Grey Shrike Azure-Winged Magpie Sardinian Warbler Griffon Vulture Pair of Antlers Stag— picking his way up a Rock- Staircase ” “The Hart bounced, full-broadside, over the Pass” Pernales Sparrow-Owls (Athene noctuc) and Moths Hoopoes Woodchat Shrike and its “Shambles” Desert-loving Wheatears Red-crested Pochard (Fuligula rufila) PAGE 67 69 71 73 79 81 87 88 90 92 94 95 96 97 98 101 102 105 113 115 117 118 124 129 133 134 141 162 163 164 166 167 168 169 175 182 183 184 185 186 Bee PAGE Red-crested Pochards 190 “Minor Game” 210 Southern Grey Shrike 212 Griffon Vulture and Nest 215 “The Way of an Eagle in the Air” (Lammergeyer) 218 Black Vulture (Vultur monachus) 222 Roller (Coracias garrula) 226 Trujillo 227 “ Scavengers ” 228 Wolf-proof Dog-Collar 231 Woodlark 232 Sketch-Map of Las Hurdes 234 White Wagtail 238 Wolf-proof Sheepfold 239 The Great Bustard 243 Well on Andalucian Plain 244 Calandra Lark 246 Spanish Thistle and Stonechat 248 Bustards—“ Swerve aside” 252 Bustards passing full broadside 254 Imperial Eagle —“Hurtling through Space ” 258 Draw-Well with Cross-Bar 259 “ Hechando la Rueda” 260 Tail-Feathers of Great Bustard 261 Little Bustard 263 Stilts in the Marisma 265 Flamingoes 266 Stilts disturbed at Nesting-Place 268 Flamingoes and their Nests. 269 Flight of Flamingoes 270-1 Head of Flamingo 273 Little Gull and Tern 274 Flamingoes 277 “The Camels a-coming ” 281 Chamois 283 A Chamois Drive—Picos de Europa 288 Hoopoe 293 Lammergeyer (Gypaétus barbatus) 303 “Unemployed”: Bee-eaters on a Wet Morning 311 XVI Unexplored Spain PAGE Woodlark (Alauda arborea) 313 | Griffon Vultures. Lammergeyer 314 | Reed-Bunting Soaring Vulture . 315 | Grey Plover Golden Eagle Hunting 317 | Head of Crested Coot Rock-Thrush 318 | Avocets Feeding Spanish Sparrow 320 | White-Faced Duck (Erismatura leuco- Imperial Eagle Passing Overhead . 342 cephala) Pinsdpo Pine (Abies pinsapo) 347 | Purple Heron (Ardea purpurea) Rock-Bunting (Emberiza cia) 348 | Grey Plovers Pinsdpo Pines 350 | Orphean Warbler Crossbill 351 | Savi’s Warbler (Sylvia savit) Lammergeyer Overhead 353 | Unknown Insect Golden Eagle Hunting 354 | Bonelli’s Eagles Vultures 356 | Great Spotted Cuckoo (Ozylophus glan- Lammergeyer entering Eyrie 358 darius) Lammergeyer 361 | Crossbills (Loxia curvirostra) PAGE 368 378 381 384 385 387 389 390 391 393 394 395 400 402 CHAPTER I UNEXPLORED SPAIN INTRODUCTORY THE Spain that we love and of which we write is not the Spain of tourist or globe-trotter. These hold main routes, the high- ways from city to city; few so much as venture upon the bye-ways. Our Spain begins where bye-ways end. We write of her pathless solitudes, of desolate steppe and prairie, of marsh and mountain-land—of her majestic sierras, some well-nigh inaccessible, and, in many an instance, untrodden by British foot save our own. Lonely scenes these, yet glorified by primeval beauty and wealth of wild-life. As naturalists—that is, merely as born lovers of all that is wild, and big, and pristine—we thank the guiding destiny that early directed our steps towards a land that lis probably the wildest and certainly the least known of all in Europe—a land worthy of better cicerones than ourselves. Do not let us appear to disparage the other Spain. The tourist enjoys another land overflowing with historic and artistic interest—with memorials of medizeval romance, and of stirring times when wave after wave of successive conquest swept the Peninsula. Such subjects, however, fall wholly outside the province of this book: nor do they lack historians a thousand- fold better qualified to tell their tale. The first cause that differentiates Spain from other European countries of equal area is her high general elevation. This fact must jump to the eye of every observant traveller who books his seat by the Stid-express to the Mediterranean. Better still, for our purpose, let him commence his journey, say at the Tweed. From Berwick southwards through the heart of England to London: from London to Paris, and right across France—all the 1] B 2, Unexplored Spain way he traverses low-lying levels; fat pastures, fertile and tilled to the last acre. His aneroid tells him he has seldom risen above sea-level by more than a few hundred feet; and never once has his train passed through mountains—hardly even through hills ; he can scarce be said to have had a real mountain within the range of his vision in all these 1200 miles. Now he crosses the Bidassoa the whole world changes! At once his train plunges into interminable Pyrenees, and ere it clears these, he has ascended to a permanent highland level—a tawny treeless steppe that averages 2000-feet altitude, and some- times approaches 3000, traversed by range after range of rugged mountains that arise all around him to four, five, or six thousand feet. Railways, moreover, avoid mountains (so far as they can). Our traveller, therefore, must bear in mind that what he actually sees is but the mildest and tamest version of Spanish sierras. There are bits here and there that he may have thought anything but tame—only tame by comparison with those grander scenes to which we propose guiding him. For the next 500 miles he never quits that austere highland altitude nor ever quite loses sight of jagged peaks that pierce the skies—peaks of that hoary cinder-grey that shows up almost white against an azure backeround. Never does he descend till, after leaving behind him three kingdoms—Arragon, Navarre, and Castile—his train plunges through the Sierra Moréna, down the gorges of Despefiaperros, and at length on the third day enters upon the smiling lowlands of Andalucia. Here the aneroid rises once more to rational readings, and fertile vegas spread away to the horizon. But our traveller is not even now quite clear of mountains. Whether he be booked to Malaga or to Algeciras, he will presently find himself enveloped once more amidst some fairly stupendous rocks—the Gaétanes or Serrania de Ronda respectively. Spain is, in fact, largely an elevated table-land, 400 miles square, and traversed by four main mountain-ranges, all (like her great rivers) running east and west. The only considerable areas of lowland are found in Andalucia and Valencia. Naturally such physical features result in marked variations of climate and scene, which in turn react upon their productions and denizens, whether human or of savage breed. We take three examples. The central table-lands, subject all summer to solar rays that Introductory 3 burn, in winter shelterless from biting blasts off snow-clad slerras, present precisely that landscape of desperate desolation that always results from a maximum of sunshine combined with a minimum of rainfall. cw The Spanish Bull-Fight 199 competition with professionals. He was thirty years of age when the heavy pay of the matador induced him to risk his life in the arena. Whatever may be said of his failing as an artistic exponent of the art of Cuchdres, he killed his bulls in a resolute manner, and re-animated the interest in the corrida, but his example was a bad one. Several men emulating his career have en- deavoured to become improvised toréros, and, like him, to avoid the step-by-step climb to matador’s rank. All have been failures. They wanted to begin where the bull-fighter of old left off. Mazzantini has retired, unscathed, from his twenty years of perilous experience in the arena, and is now a civic light in the local government of the city of Madrid. Since Guerrita, not a single matador of leading light has arisen. Reverte (1891), Antonio Fuentes (1893), and Bombita (1894) all attracted a numerous public; and after them we arrive at the lesser lights of the present day, Bombita IT. and Machaquito. Notwithstanding its present decadence in all the most essential qualities, yet the fiesta de toros is still, if not the very heart- throb of the nation, at least the single all-embracing symbol of the people’s taste as distinguished from that of other lands. Racing has been tried and failed; there are no teeming crowds at football, nor silent watchers on the cricket-field. La Corrida alone makes the Spanish holiday. CHAPTER XIX THE SPANISH FIGHTING-BULL HIS BREEDING AND TRAINING THE normal British idea of a bull naturally derives colour from those stolid animals one sees at home, some with a ring through the nose, and which are only kept for stud purposes, but occasion- ally evince a latent ferocity by goring to death some hapless herdsman. Between such and the Spanish Zoro de Plaza there exists no sort of analogy. The Spanish fighting-bull is bred to fight, and the keen experience of centuries is brought to bear on the selection of the fittest-that, moreover, not only as regards the bulls, for the cows also are tested both for pluck and stamina before admission to the herd-register. The result, in effect, assures that an animal as fierce and formidable as the wildest African buffalo shall finally face the matador. The breeding of the fighting-bull forms in Spain a rural industry as deeply studied and as keenly competitive as that of prize-cattle or Derby winners in England. At the age of one year preliminary tests are made, and promis- ing youngsters branded with the insignia of the herd. But it is the completion of the second year that marks their critical period ; for then take place the trials for pluck and mettle. The brave are set aside for the Plaza, the docile destroyed or gelded; while from the chosen lot a further selection is made of the sires for future years. At these two-year-old trials, or Tentaderos, it is customary for the owner and his friends to assemble at the sequestered rancho—the event indeed becomes a rural féte, a bright and picturesque scene, typical of untrodden Spain and of the buoyant exuberance and dare-devil spirit of her people. 200 The Spanish Fighting-Bull 201 Nowhere can the exciting scenes of the Tentadero be witnessed to greater advantage than on those wide level pasturages that extend from Seville to the Bay of Cédiz. Here, far out on spreading vega ablaze with wild flowers, where the canicular sun flashes yet more light and fire into the fiery veins of the Andaluz—here is enacted the first scene in the drama of the Toréo. For ages these flower-strewn plains have formed the scene of countless tentaderos, where the young bloods of Andalucia, generation after generation, rival each other in feats of derring-do, of skill, and horsemanship. The remote estancia presents a scene of unwonted revelry. All night long its rude walls resound with boisterous hilarity— good-humour, gaiety, and a spice of practical joking pass away the dark hours and by daylight all are in the saddle. The young bulls have previously been herded upon that part of the estate which affords the best level ground for smart manceuvre and fast riding, and the task of holding the impetuous beasts together is allotted to skilled herdsmen armed with long garrochas—four- yard lances, with blunt steel tip. All being ready, a single bull is allowed to escape across the plain. Two horsemen awaiting the moment, spear in hand, give chase, one on either flank. The rider on the bull’s left assists his companion by holding the animal to a straight course. Presently the right-hand man, rising erect in his stirrups, plants his lance on the bull’s off-flank, near the tail, and by one tremendous thrust, delivered at full speed, overthrows him—a feat that bespeaks a good eye, a firm seat, and astrong arm. Some young bulls will take two or more falls ; others, on rising, will elect to charge. The infuriated youngster finds himself faced by a second foe—-a horseman armed with a more pointed lance and who has been riding close behind. This man is termed el Tentador. Straightway the bull charges, receiving on his withers the garrocha point; thrown back thus and smarting under this first check to his hitherto unthwarted will, he returns to the charge with redoubled fury, but only to find the horse protected as before. ‘The pluckier spirits will essay a third or a fourth attack, but those that freely charge twice are passed as fit for the ring. Should a young bull twice decline to charge the Tentador,, submitting to his overthrow and only desiring to escape, he is con- demned—doomed to death, or at best to a life of agricultural toil. 202 Unexplored Spain Not seldom a bull singled out from the vodéo declines to escape, as expected; but, instead, charges the nearest person, on foot or mounted, whom he may chance to espy. Then there is a flutter in the dovecotes! Danger can only be averted by skilled riding or a cool head, since there is no shelter. Spanish herdsmen, however (and amateurs besides), are adepts in the art of giving “ passes” to the bull—a smart fellow, when caught thus in the open, can keep a bull off him (using his jacket only) for several moments, giving time for horsemen to come up to his rescue. Even then it is no uncommon occurrence to see horse- man, horse, and bull all rolling on the turf in a common ruin. Seldom does it happen that one of these trial-days passes without broken bones or accidents of one kind or another. For four to five more years, the selected bulls roam at large over the richest pasturages of the wide unfrequented prairies. Should pasture fail through drought or deluge, the bulls are fed on tares, vetch, or maize, even with wheat, for their début in public must be made in the highest possible condition. The bulls should then be not less than five, nor more than seven years old. The tentadero at the present day brings together aristocratic gatherings that recall the tauromachian tournaments of old. Skill in handling the garrocha and the ability to turn-over a running bull are accomplishments held in high esteem among Spanish youth. Even the Infantas of Spain have entered into the spirit of the sport, and have been known themselves to wield a dexterous lance. At length, however, the years spent in luxurious idleness on the silent plain must come to an end. One summer morning the brave herd find grazing in their midst sundry strangers which make themselves extremely agreeable to the lordly champions, now in the zenith of magnificent strength and beauty. These strangers are the cabrestos (or cabestros, in correct Castilian), decoy-oxen sent out to fraternise for a few days with the fighting race preparatory to the Encierro, or operation of convoying the latter to the city whereat the corrida is to take place. Hach cabresto has a cattle-bell suspended round its neck in order to accustom the wild herd to follow the lead of these base betrayers of the brave. Thus the noble bulls are lured from their native plains through country tracks and bye-ways to the entrance of the fatal tori. The Spanish Fighting-Bull 203 An animated spectacle it is on the eve of the corrida when, amidst clouds of dust and clang of bells, the tame oxen and wild bulls are driven forward by galloping horsemen and levelled garrochas. The excited populace, already intoxicated with bull- fever and the anticipation of the coming corridas, line the way to the Plaza, careless if in the enthusiasm for the morrow they risk some awkward rips to-day. Once inside the lofty walls of the toril it is easy to withdraw the treacherous cabestros, and one by one to tempt the bulls each into a small separate cell, the chiquero, the door of which will to-morrow fall before his eyes. Then, rushing upon the arena, he finds himself confronted and encircled by surging tiers of yelling humanity, while the crash of trumpets and glare of moving colours madden his brain. Then the gaudy horsemen, with menacing lances, recall, his day of trial on the distant plain —horsemen now doubly hateful in their brilliant glittering tinsel. What a spectacle is presented by the Plaza at this moment! —one without parallel in the modern world. The vast amphi- theatre, crowded to the last seat in every row and tier, is held for some seconds in breathless suspense ; above, the glorious azure canopy of an Andalucian summer sky; below, on the yellow arena, rushes forth the bull, fresh from his distant prairie, amazed yet undaunted by the unwonted sight and bewildering blaze of colour which surrounds him. For one brief moment the vast mass of excited humanity sits spell-bound; the clamour of myriads is stilled. Then the pent-up cry bursts forth in frantic volume, for the gleaning horns have done their work, and Buen toro! buen toro! rings from twice ten thousand throats. We have traced in brief outline the life-history of our gallant bull; we have brought him face to face with the matador and his Toledan blade—there we must leave him.’ In concluding this chapter, may we beg the generous reader, should he ever enter the historic precincts of the Plaza, to go there with an open mind, to form his own opinion without prejudice or bias. Let him remember that to untrained eyes there must ever fall unseen many of the finer ‘“‘ passes,” much of the skilled technique and science of tauromachian art. The casual spectator necessarily + The oft-described details of the bull-fight we omit ; but should any reader care to peruse an impartial description thereof, written by one of the co-authors of the present work, such will be found in the Encyclopedia of Sport, vol. i. p. 151. 204 Unexplored Spain loses that; he perceives no more difficulty in the perilous suerte de vol-d-pié than in the simpler but more attractive suerte de recibir, and a hundred similar details. Finally, before erystallis- ing a judgment, critics should endeavour to see a few second- or third-rate corridas. It is at these that the relative values of the forces opposed—brute strength and human skill—are dis- played in truer and more speaking contrast. At set bull-fights of the first-class, the latter quality is often so marked as partly to obscure the difficulties and dangers it surmounts. Watch toréros of finished skill and the game seems easy—as when some phenomenal batsman, well set, knocks the best bowling in England all over the field. Yet that bowling, the expert knows, is not easy. Nor are the bulls. At second-rate fights the forces placed face to face are more evenly balanced; and there it is often the bull that scores. THE MIuRA QUESTION A raging controversy, illuminative of Tauromachia, has recently split into two camps the bull-fighting world and agitated one-half of Spain. The breeding of the fighting-bull is in this country a semi-esthetic pursuit, analogous to that of short-horns or racehorses in England, and the possession of a notable herd the ambition of many of the grandees and big landowners of Spain. Among the various crack herds that of Don Eduardo Miura of Sevilla had always occupied a prominent rank; while during recent years the power and dashing prowess of the Miwreno bulls had raised that breed almost to a level apart, invested with a halo of semi-mysterious quality. Captures occurred at every corrida ; man after man had gone down before these redoubted champions, and the minds of surviving matadors—saturated one and all with gipsy-sprung superstition—began to attribute secret or supernatural powers to the dreaded herd. Not a swordsman but felt unwonted qualm when meeting a Miwreno on the sanded arena. Showy players with the capa and the banderillos proved capable of giving attractive exhibitions, but it was another matter when the matador stood alone, face to face with his foe. Even second-class toréros can, with almost any bull, show off their accomplishments in these lighter séances; but in the The Spanish Fighting-Bull 205 supreme réle—that of killing the bull as art demands—-there is no room for half-measures or deceptions. To valour, ability must be united. When those two qualities are not both coupled and balanced, then one of two things happens: Hither the scene becomes a dull one, a mixture of funk and feebleness made patent all round ; or disaster is at hand. This one hears forecast in the strange cries of this meridional people—from all sides come the shouts of ‘‘ Hule! Hule!” Now Hule is the name of the material with which the stretchers for the killed and wounded are covered ! At this period (summer of 1908) a combination of the bull- fighting craft attempted a boycott of the Miura herd, or at least double pay for killing them. This was done secretly at first, since neither would open confession redound to the credit of the “ pig-tail,” nor did it promise favourable reception by the public. At this conjuncture a notable corrida occurred at Seville— six Miurenos being listed for the fight. Ricardo Torres (Bombita II.) despatched his first with all serenity and valour; with his second, a magnificent animal worthy of a royal pageant, he would doubtless have comported himself with equal skill but for an extraneous incident. Upon rushing into the arena this bull had at once impaled a foolhardy amateur named Pepin Rodriguez who (quite against all recognised rule) had madly sprung into the ring. The poor fellow was borne out only in time to receive the last religious rite. At the precise moment when Ricardo stepped forth to meet his foe, the murmur reached his ear—Pepin was dead, and his superstitious soul sank down to zero at that whisper from without. When the critical moment arrived—the popular matador stood pale, nerveless, incapable. Then the scorn of the mighty crowd burst forth in monstrous yells. Ricardo Torres had fallen from the pinnacle of fame to the level of a clumsy beginner. In a moment he was disgraced, his increasing reputation ruined for ever under the eyes of all the world—and that by a Miureno bull. From that moment the fallen star organised his colleagues in open rebellion against the victorious breed. The line of action adopted was to abuse and libel the incrimin- ated herd. It was urged that the bulls lacked the true qualities of dash and valour and only scored by treachery ; and especially insinuated that the young bulls were expressly taught at their tentaderos, or trials on the open plains, to discriminate between 206 Unexplored Spain shadow and substance—in other words, to seek the man and disdain the lure—this naturally making the réle of matador more dangerous, and double pay was demanded. To outsiders it would appear that on the day when bulls learn this, bull-fighting must cease. A storm burst that raged all winter—all classes taking part. Spain was rent in twain; press and people, high and low, joined issue in this unseemly wrangle. We cannot here enter into detail of the various schemes, fair and unfair, whereby the bull-fighters’ guild sought to justify their action and their demands and to prejudice the terrible Miwrenos in the public eye. They were seconded by most professionals of renown, and soon all but seven had joined the league. But the squabble with its resultant law- suits and sordid financial aspect finally disgusted the public. Needless to add, a counter-association of bull-breeders had been forced into existence, which eventually, despite varied and particular personal interests unworthy of definition, united the opposition. Oh! it was a pretty quarrel and one in its essence peculiar to Spain. But it held the whole country engaged all winter in the throes of a semi-civil war! At the first corrida of the following season—held at Alicante January 18, 1909, and graced by the presence of King Alfonso XIII. in person—the public delivered their verdict, filling the Plaza to overflowing, although the whole of the six champions were of the condemned Miura breed and the matadors, Quinito and Rerre, belonged to the recalcitrant Seven. The bull-fighters’ guild had received a fatal blow. Such was the situation, the mental equilibrium between the fiercely contending factions, as the crucial period approached— the Easter corvidas at Seville. The zmpresarios of that function, having full grip of the circumstance, engaged matadors of minor repute—Pepete, Moréno de Alcalé, and Martin Vasquez. All three, although but of second rank, were popular and regarded as coming men. Flaming posters announced that six champions of the Miura breed would face the swordsmen. The occasion was unique, and D. Eduardo Miura rose to meet it, presenting six bulls of incomparable beauty, magnificent in fine lines, in dash, brute-strength, and valour, yet utterly devoid (as the event proved) of guile or lurking treachery. Such The Spanish Fighting-Bull 207 animals as these six demanded a Romero, a Montes, or a Guerrita as equals; instead, these young Toréros who faced them, courageous though they were, lacked calibre for such an under- taking. This corrida marked an epoch, but it acquired the proportions of a catastrophe. The bye-word that “where there are bulls there are no matadors” became that afternoon an axiom. A gettatura, or atmosphere of superstition, surrounded the bulls and unnerved or confounded their opponents. Pepete was caught by the first bull, Moréno de Alcala by the fourth, while Martin Vasquez (already thrice caught) succumbed to the fifth. The sixth bull thus remained unopposed champion of the Plaza—not a matador survived to face him, and it became necessary to entice an unfought bull (by means of trained oxen) to quit the arena—an event unprecedented in the age-long annals of Tauromachy ! A typical incident, trivial by comparison, intervened. A youthful spectator, frenzied to madness by the scene, had seized a sword, leapt into the ring, and promptly met his death. Every contention of the bull-fighters’ guild had been falsified, and the association collapsed. A Sevillian paper summed up the event thus :— The six bulls were each worthy to figure in toromaquian annals for their beautiful stamp, their lines, weight, bravery, and caste. We witnessed a tragedy when, on the death of the fifth bull, not a matador remained. But had that tragedy been caused by malice, wickedness, or treachery on the part of the bulls, surely a declaration of martial law in this city would have been demanded by not a few! But that was not so; each of the six competed in the qualities of bravery, nobility, and adaptability—such bulls are worthy of better swordsmen. CHAPTER XX SIERRA DE GREDOS WE met, our trio, on the platform of Charing Cross—not classic but perhaps historic ground, since so many notable expeditions have started therefrom, with others of less importance. The heat in Madrid towards the end of August (1896) was not excessive—less than we had feared. We enjoyed, that Sunday, quite an excellent bull-fight, although the bulls them- selves had been advertised as of “only one horn” apiece (de un cuerno). There was no sign, however, of any cornual deficiency as each magnificent animal dashed into the arena, although with binoculars one could detect a slight splintering of one horn-point, a defect which had caused the rejection of that animal from the herd-list. For these bulls were, in fact, of notable blood—that of Ybarra of Sevillian vegas—and none bearing that name appear in first-class corridas save absolutely perfect and unblemished. The point illustrates the keen appreciation of quality in the fighting-bull, which in Spain goes without saying, yet may well de- ceive the casual stranger. Thus an American party who breakfasted with us (always keen to get the best, but not always knowing where to find it) despised the ‘‘ Unicorns” and reserved them- selves instead for the opera. We enjoyed an excellent fight with dashing bulls—two clearing the barrier and causing a fine stampede among the military, the police, and crowds of itinerant fruit- and water-sellers who occupy the Hntre-barreras. These “‘ Unicorns” proved really better bulls than at many of the formal corridas. Three young and rising matadors despatched the animals—two each. They were Galindo, Gavira, and Parrao— both the latter excellent. Gavira looked as if he might take first rank in his order, while Parrao displayed a coolness in the lidia such as we had seldom before seen—even to stroking the bull’s 208 Sierra de Grédos 209 nose—while in the final scene he went in to such close quarters, “passing” the animal at half arm’s-length, that the whole 10,000 in the Plaza held their breath. Parrao will become a first-flighter, unless he is caught, which certainly seems the more natural event. That evening we were hospitably entertained at the British Embassy, where our host, the Chargé d’Affaires, regretted that the short fourteen-days’ Ortolan season had just that morning expired. Thus, quite unconsciously, was an ornithological fact elucidated. Next morning we were away by an early train, and after five hours’ journey joined our staff, as prearranged. But here we committed the mistake of quartering in a country-town on the banks of the Tagus, instead of encamping in the open country outside. Bitterly did we regret having allowed ourselves to be thus persuaded. Long summer heats and parching drought had destroyed what primitive system of natural drainage may have existed in Talavera de la Reina and produced conditions that we revolt from describing. Oh! those foul effluvia amidst which men live, and feed, and sleep ! With intense delight, but splitting headaches, we left the plague-spot at earliest dawn and set out for the mountain-land. For thirty odd miles our route traversed a highland plateau; a group of five great bustard, gasping in the noon-day heat, lay asleep so near the track that we tried a shot with ball. Farther north, near Medina del Campo, we had also observed these grand game-birds feeding on the ripening grapes in the vineyards. Packs of sand-grouse (Pterocles arenarius) with musical croak flew close around. Spanish azure magpies abounded wherever our route passed through wooded stretches, and we also observed doves, bee-eaters, stonechats, crested and calandra larks, ravens, and over some cork-oaks wheeled a serpent-eagle showing very white below. Towards evening the track began to ascend through the lower defiles of the great cordillera that now pierced the heavens ahead. Presently we entered pinewoods, resonant at dusk with the raucous voices of millions of wingless grasshoppers or locusts (we know not their precise name) that live high up in pines. Never before had we heard such strident voice in an insect. P 210 Unexplored Spain At 4000 feet we encamped beneath the pines by a lovely trout-stream. This was the rendezvous whereat by arrangement we met with our old friends the ibex-hunters of Almanzér— savage perhaps to the eye, yet beyond all doubt radiantly glad to welcome back the foreigners after a lapse of years. No mere greed of dollars inspired that enthusiasm, but solely the bond of a common passion that bound us all—that of the hunter. It was, however, but sorry hearing to listen to the reports they told us around the camp-fire. Everywhere the ibex were yearly growing scarcer, dwindling to an inevitable vanishing-point, former haunts already abandoned—or, we should rather say, swept clean. Where but a score of years before, 150 ibex had been counted in a single monterta, our friends reckoned that exactly a dozen survived. One remark especially struck us. ‘There remained,” with glee our friends assured us, “‘one magnificent old goat, a ram of twelve years, out there on the crags of Almanzér.” Ovwz! To one sole big head had it dwindled ? The valley of the Tagus divides two geological periods, and perhaps at one time divided Europe from a retiring Africa. Marked differences distinguish the fauna on either side of the river, and that of the north (with its 10,000 feet altitude) promised reward worthy the labours of investigation. Not a yard of that great mountain-land of Grédos has been trodden by British foot (save our own) since the days of Wellington. Hence it was an object with us to secure, not only ibex heads, but specimens of the smaller mammalia that dwell in those heights. Our mountain friends assembled round the camp-fire—twenty-five in all—each promised to take up this unaccustomed quest and to regard as game every hitherto unconsidered bicho of the hills, whether feathered, furred, or scaled. If ibex failed us, at least a harvest in such minor game we meant to assure.’ Three o'clock saw us astir, bathing in the dark burn while moonlight still streamed through sombre pines. Camp mean- “MINOR GAME” 1 In particular, remembering an incident that had occurred here in 1891, and recorded in Wild Spain, p. 147, we were anxious to ascertain if the lemming, or any relative of his, still survived in these central Spanish cordilleras. The marmot is another possible inhabitant. Sierra de Grédos 211 while was broken up; tents and gear packed on ponies and mules, breakfast finished—we were off, heavenwards. Then, just as the laden pack-animals filed through the burn, there rode up a man—he had ridden all night—and bore a message that changed our exuberant joy to grief—bad news from home. There could be no doubt—the writer must return at once. Within five minutes I had decided to make for a point on the northern railway beyond the hills and distant some sixty miles as the crow flies. Baggage and battery were abandoned; a handbag with a satchel of provisions and a wine-skin formed my luggage, and, leaving my companions in this wild spot, I set forth in the grey dawn on a barebacked mule devoid of saddle, bridle, or stirrups, and accompanied by two of our hill-bred lads, one riding pillion behind or running alongside in turn. Where the grey ramparts of the Risco del Fraile and the Casquerdézo frown on a rugged earth below I parted with my old pals, they to continue the ibex-hunt, I on my mournful homeward way. Bee-eaters poised and chattered, brilliant butterflies (whose names I forgot to note), abounded as we rode along those fearful edges and boulder-studded steeps. Six hours of this brought us to a rock-poised hamlet of the sierra. The landlord of the posada was also the Alcalde (mayor) of the district, and even then pre- siding over a meeting of the council (aywntamiento). Amidst dogs, children, fleas, and dirt, along with my two goat-herd friends, we made breakfast. Thence over the main pass of Navasomera—no road, not the vestige of a track, and a tremendous ravine stopped us for hours, and for a time threatened to prove impassable. By patience and recklessness we lowered mule and ourselves down scrub-choked screes, and after some of the roughest work of my life gained a goat-herd’s track which led upwards to the pass. After clearing the reverse slope we traversed for twenty miles a dreary upland (6000 feet) till we struck the head-waters of the Albirche river, where my lads tickled half-a-dozen trout and a frog! Kites beat along the stony hills, where wheatears and stonechats fluttered incessant, with dippers and sandpipers on the burn below. We halted at a lonely venta (wayside wine-shop), where assembled goat-herds courteously made room, and passed me their wine-skin. Presently one of them asked whither I went, remarking, 212 Unexplored Spain “Your Excellency is clearly not of this province.” Three or four skinny rabbits hung on the wall, and the landlord, after inquiring what his Excellency would eat, assured me he had plenty of every- thing, was yet so strong in his commendation of rabbit that I knew those wretched beasties were the only food in the place. Presently with my two lads, and surrounded by mules, cats, dogs, poultry, wasps, and fleas, we sat down to dine on trout, rabbits- d-pimiento, and chorizo (forty horse-power sausage). I believe my boys also ate the frog! Two hours after dark we were still dragging along the upland, while the outlines of the jagged cordillera behind had faded in gathering night. I could scarce have sat much longer on that bony saddleless mule when a light was descried far below, and, on learning that we were still twenty miles from our destination, 1 decided to put up for the night at that little venta of Almenge, sleeping on bare earth alongside my boys, and close by the heels of our own and sundry other mules. At breakfast there sat down, besides ourselves and hostess, sundry muleteers, all sympathetic and commiserate since my mission had become known. I was hurry- ing homewards to distant Ingla- terra—so Juanito had explained— because my brother was poco bueno —not very well. The hostess looked hard, and said, “‘ Sefior, it must be muy grave (very serious), or they would not have telegraphed for the caballero to return.” Many more hours of tedious mule-riding followed ere at last from lowering spurs we could see the end of the hills and the white track winding away till lost to view across the plain below. Here in the highest growth of trees were grey shrikes (Lanius meridionalis), adults and young, besides missel-thrushes, turtle- doves, etc. On the level corn-lands below, which we now traversed for miles, we observed bustards (these, we were told, retired to lower levels in September)—nothing else beyond the usual larks and kestrels common to all Spain. It was past noon ere the long ride was completed, and we MOREZON, CUCHILLAK DE NAVAJAS. ALMANZOR, THE CIRCO DE GREDOs. is vd - ae i oP $ a f . cA. LAGUNA DE GREDOs. LOOKING souTIT ACROSS LAGUNA. A BIRD'S-EVI VIEW—SHOWS THE AMEAL AND HERMANITOS CUCHILLAR DEL GUETRE. CASOLERAZO, SCENES IN SIERRA DE GREDOS. Sierra de Grédos 213 entered the ancient city that boasts bygone glories, splendid temples, and memories of medizval magnificence, but which is now well, Avila. But one feature of Avila demands passing note—its massive walls, withstanding the centuries, full forty feet in height by fifteen feet broad. An hour later the Sid- express dashed up whistling into the station, to the genuine alarm of my leather-clad mountain-lads, who recoiled in fear from an unwonted sight. They, noticing that the officials of the train also spoke a foreign tongue (French), asked me if such things (1.e. railway trains) were “only for your Excellencies”—meaning for foreigners, vos-otros. At Paris a reassuring telegram filled me with joy indescribable, but in London and at York further messages intensified anxiety. On August 29 I reached home, and on the evening of September 3 doubts were resolved, and the silver cord was loosed. The Plaza de Almanzér, with its immediate environment, presents a panorama of mountain-scenery unrivalled, not only in the whole cordillera of Grédos, but probably in all Spain—it may be questioned if the world itself contains a more striking landscape than that known as the ‘Circo de Grédos.” Briefly put, a vast central amphitheatre of rock—really four-square (though known as the ‘“‘ Circo”) in the depths of which nestle an alpine lake—is enclosed by stupendous rock-walls and precipices of granite; some of these smooth and sheer, others rugged and disintegrated or broken up by snow-filled gorges of intricacies that defy the power of pen to describe. Three of these vast mural ramparts stand almost rectangular, the fourth shoots out obliquely, traversing the abysmal enclave and all but closing the fourth side of its quadrilateral. The rough sketch-map at p. 141 shows the configuration better than written words, while the photos convey, so far as such can, some idea of the scenery.* The actual peak of Almanzér which dominates the whole “Circo,” as viewed from the north, culminates in a flattened cone, the summit being split into two huge rock-needles or pinnacles separated by an unfathomed fissure between. Only one of these needles—and that the lower—has yet been scaled. The loftier of the pair, though it only surpasses its fellow by a 1 For these, as well as graphic notes on the subject, we are indebted to Sr. D. Manuel F. de Amezia, the most experienced and intrepid explorer of the Sierra de Grédos. 214 Unexplored Spain few yards in height, is so sheer, its surface so devoid of crevice or hand-hold, that the ascent (without ropes and other appliances) appears quite impracticable. Will the reader seat himself in imagination at the spot marked (*) on the map. Surveying the scene from this point, the whole opposite horizon is filled by the Altos de Morezén—a jagged and turreted escarpment pierces the sky, while its frowning walls dip down, down in endless precipices to the inky-black waters of the Laguna far below. Towards the left one’s view is interrupted by an extraordinary mass of upstanding granite, disintegrated and blackened by the ages, known as the Amedl de Pablo—in itself a virgin mountain, as yet untrodden by human foot. This colossus, glittering with snow-striz, surmounts the oblique ridge aforesaid, that of the Cuchillar del Guetre, which traverses two-thirds of the “ Circo,” leaving but a narrow gap between its own extremity and the opposite heights of Morezén. Continuing towards the right, there rises to yet loftier altitudes the black contour of the Risco del Fraile, beloved of ibex; while adjacent on the north-west, but on slightly lower level, uprear from the snow-flecked skyline three more unscaled masses—rectangular monoliths like giant landmarks. This trio is distinguished as Los Hermanitos de Grédos, their abruptness of outline almost appalling as set off by an azure background. Farther to the right (in the angle of the square) two more mountain-masses—knife-edged, jagged, and embattled along the crests—frown upon one another across a gorge rent through their very bowels. These two are the Alto del Casquerdzo and the Cuchillar de las Navdjas, while the interposed abyss—the Portilla de los Machos—cuts clean through the great cordillera, forming a natural gateway between its northern and its southern faces. As the name implies, this gorge is the main route of the ibex from their much-loved Riscos del Fraile to their second chief resort, the Riscos del Francés, which occupy the southern face of the sierra whose snowfields defy even the heats of August. From our present standpoint the southern wall of the Cireo— the Cuchillar de las Navdjas—is not visible. This section of the quadrilateral is equally abrupt and intricate, dropping in massive bastions towards the level of the lake. Just beyond the Plaza de Sierra de Grédos aa § Almanzér a second deep gorge or “ pass”—the Portilla Bermeja —unites the northern and the southern faces. Behind where we sit lies yet another panorama of terrible wildness, again dominated by rock-walls of fantastic contour— the valley of Las Cinco Lagunas. But right here our rock- descriptive powers give out—we can only refer to the map. GRIFFON VULTURE AND NEST CHAPTER XXI SIERRA DE GREDOS (Continued) IBEX-HUNTING Way try to describe the distress of that morning or the efforts it cost, during fourteen hours, to gain the summits of Grédos ? Again and again what we had taken for our destination proved to be some intervening ridge with another desperate gorge beyond. Suffice it that it was an hour after dark ere we finally lifted the cargoes from the dead-beat beasts. Presently the moon arose, and against her pale effulgence towered the gnarled and pinnacled peaks of Almanzér, piercing the very skies—a lovely but to me an appalling scene. Their altitude is 8800 feet. Our whole plan and ambitions in this expedition were to find and stalk the ibex—the very undertaking which had proved beyond our powers during two strenuous efforts in former years as readers of Wild Spain already know. Now in all stalking it must be obvious even to non-technical readers that the first essential is to bring under survey of the binoculars a very considerable extent of game-country every day ; but here, in the chaotic jumble of perpendicular or impending precipice or smooth rock-faces inclined at angles that we dare not traverse, any such extensive survey is a sheer impossibility. Alpine climbers or others in the fullest enjoyment of youth and activity might get forward at a reasonable speed. To us, already past that stage, the feat was impossible, ze. by our own sole exertions. That we, of course, knew in advance ; but our plan was to supplement our own powers by availing the splendid rock-climbing ‘abilities of our friends, the goat-herds of Almanzér, on whom we relied for at least finding the game in the first instance. Ramoén and Isidéro were away by the first glint of dawn, 216 e) “ AT THE APEX OFF ALL THE SPAINS.’ (IBEX ON THE PLAZA DE ALMANZOR.) Sierra de Grédos 217 disappearing in opposite directions so as to encompass both the surrounding rock-ranges and to mark ibex in stalkable positions. We awaited their return in camp, not only with anxiety, but with some impatience, since the temperature had fallen so low that no wraps or blankets served to keep us warm while inactive. After a fruitless search of four hours, the scouts returned ; no better results attended a second morning and a third—nor our im- patience. Clearly the second resource, that of “ driving,” must now be tried. It was only ten o'clock that third morning, and already the drivers, who had left at dawn so as to reach agreed positions in case of the failure of resource No. 1, would be approaching the fixed points four miles away on the encircling heights, whereat, by signal, they would know whether to proceed with the “drive” or to return by the circuitous route they had gone. Meanwhile we have ourselves to reach the ‘“ passes” in the heights above, and the scramble and struggle which that ascent involved we must leave readers to imagine. Bertram gets through such work fairly well, but the writer, a generation older, is fain to choose a lower place, reputed a likely “ pass.” Here, after waiting an hour, we descried the drivers showing-up at different points of those encircling Riscos de Morezén, climbing like flies down perpen- dicular faces, disappearing in gorges, and doing all that specialised hunters can. But not an ibex came our way. When we reas- sembled, it proved that three goats had been seen, one a ram. Thus ended that day—cruel work amidst lovely though terrible scenery—and never a wild-goat within our sight. On the morrow our selected positions were to be yet nearer the heavens above than those of yesterday—along the highest sky- lines of Grédos, between the Plaza de Almanzér and the Ameéal. From our camp my own post was pointed out, a niche in that far-away impossible ridge. How long, I asked Ramon, do you imagine it will take me to reach it? Our friends, who, lean and lythe of frame, a specialised race of mountaineers, mock mountain-heights and appreciate too little (though they recognise) our relative weakness, reply, “Two hours.” But at that precise moment, while I yet scanned with binoculars the scene of this supreme effort, examining in a species of horror that infinity of piled rock-masses, their details cruelly developed in a blazing sunlight, just then, across the field of the glass soared a single lammergeyer. Now I know that these giant birds-of-prey span 218 Unexplored Spain some ten feet from wing to wing, and the tiny speck that this one, reduced by distance, appeared on the object-glass helped me to gauge what lay before us. A black point that from camp I had mentally noted as a landmark proved to be a mass of dolomite seamed with inter- jected strize of glistening felspar, big as a village church ! I had demanded four hours, and precisely within that period “THE WAY OF AN EAGLE IN THE AIR” (LAMMERGEYER—GYypaétus barbatus) reached my celestial pinnacle. Bertram was beyond and higher still—where, I could not see. But my own post seemed to me as sublime as even an ibex-hunter could desire, at the culminating apex of the Spains and the centre of dispersal of four giant gorges each bristling with bewildering chaos of crags and rock-ruin, while above, to right and left, towered yet loftier 77scos. At these serene altitudes life appeared non-existent. The last signs of a cryptogamic vegetation we had left below, and I could now see eagles or vultures soaring almost perpendicularly beneath and reduced by distance to moving specks. Yet shortly before reaching our posts, along one of those Sierra de Grédos 219 awesome shelves with a 500-feet drop below, a touch from Ramén drew my attention to a truly magnificent old ibex-ram in full view, quietly skipping from crag to crag some 300 yards above. So slow and deliberate were his movements, with frequent halts to gaze, that time was allowed to gain a rational position and to enjoy for several minutes a glorious view through binoculars. Twice he halted in front of small snow-slopes, against which those curving horns were set off in perfect detail. Then with measured movements, making good each foot-hold, alternated by marvellous bounds to some rock-point above, the grand wild-goat vanished from view. His course led into a rock- region that already our drivers were encompassing, hence we had strong hopes that we might not have seen the last of him. Two herds of ibex, it transpired, were enclosed in this beat ; one comprising nine females and small beasts, the second two with a two-year-old ram ; but our big friend was seen no more. I had, however, enjoyed a scene that went far to compensate for the tribulations it had cost. Late that night the two lads who had accompanied A. returned to camp. After riding fifteen hours on Wednesday, he could do no more, slept at a venta, and reached Avila (which he considers twenty leagues from Ornillos, the spot where he left us) at noon on Thursday, where he caught the Std-express, and to-night will be in Paris. He sent us a few pencilled words, urging us to utmost endeavours with the wild-goats, as this will be in all probability our last chance. I agree, for the natives kill off male and female alike, only a few wily old rams remain, a mere fraction of the stock which formerly existed. The shepherds who come to these high tops to pasture their herds for a few weeks each summer have chances to kill the ibex which they do not neglect. When Don Manuel Silvela, the statesman, was here twenty years ago, some 150 ibex were driven past his post above the Laguna de Grédos. Not a quarter of that number now survive in all the range. August 26.—Everything outside the tents was frozen solid last night, but with sunrise the temperature goes up with a bound. We had trout for breakfast, caught by hand from the burn below. To-day the work was easier, for the two beats were both small and more or less on the same level as our camp. The first lasted five hours, but gave no result. We then moved to 220 Unexplored Spain the west, always rising till we found ourselves on the summit of another ridge looking down into a mighty gorge and upon the mysterious rock-cradled Cinco Lagunas de Grédos. The plains of Castile lay beneath us like a map, towns and villages dis- tinguishable through the glass though not without. Bertram was placed in a “pass,” about 100 yards wide, piercing the topmost peaks, myself in a similar portilla rather lower down. An hour later Dionysio, who had climbed the crag above me, whence he could see into the abyss beneath, signalled as he hung over the edge of his eyrie that something was coming. Then he slid down to my side to tell me that three goats were moving slowly up the gorge. Dionysio returned to his ledge, and for half an hour I enjoyed that state of breathless suspense when one expects each moment to be face to face with a coveted trophy. The three goats, I perceived, must pass through this portilla on one side or the other of the rock behind which I lay expectant. At last there caught my ear the gentle patter of horned hoofs on rocks, but oh! it was succeeded by the bang of a gun. Dionysio had fired from his ledge twenty yards above me. The three ibex had come on to within ten yards of where I lay, looking, as it were, down a tunnel. ‘The wind had been right enough, but it appeared an erratic puff had elected to blow straight from us to them. They caught it, and in a flash disappeared down the ravine, Dionysio, as he hung from the ledge, giving them a parting shot. That was friend Dionysio’s version of the event. What actually occurred, all who are experienced in this wild- hunting will divine without our telling. I ran from my post along the lip of the abyss—luckily there was a bit of fairly good going—hoping to get a chance as the game turned upwards again ; for at once, on hearing a shot, the beaters far below joined in a chorus of wild yells to push them upwards. ‘This they succeeded in doing, but the goats passed beyond my range. I now saw there were four in all—three females and a handsome ram. Dionysio made a further effort to turn them, which so far succeeded that the ram separated and bounded up the rocks towards the higher pass, where he ran the gauntlet of Bertram within thirty yards. Now the whole stress and burden of a laborious expedition fell upon the youngest shoulders, for B. was barely out of his teens, and more skilled with shot-gun than with ball. The responsibility proved almost too great VIANA, MARQUES DE ASTURIAS. VIELAVICIOSA DE DE MARQUES 1910, 2 SB es o a oe a Two SPANISIL Sierra de Grédos 221 —almost, but not quite; for one bullet had taken effect, and the rocks beyond the little “pass” were sprinkled with blood The late hour, 4 p.m., and the long scramble campwards forbade our following the spoor that night, but the ram was recovered some two miles beyond the point where we had last seen him—horn measurements 24% inches, by 84 inches basal circumference. The beaters reported having seen several ibex during this drive, two small rams, females, and kids—thirteen in all. We devoted a couple more days to this section of the sierra, but both proved unsuccessful so far as regards the one grand ibex- ram which we had seen. Here, on the Riscos del Fraile, and later on at Villarejo, we each spared small beasts; but at last were fain to be content with a three-year-old goat, whose head adorns our walls. Before daylight we were aroused by the breaking-up of camp, and by seven o’clock had taken a downward course from that lofty eyrie which we had occupied for ten days. It was a lovely ride with bright sunlight lighting up every detail of the mountain scenery, while every mile brought evidence of the lowering altitude—first, in green herbage, then in brushwood and stunted trees, till at mid-day we reached the region of pines in the cool valley of the river Tormes. Here we halted, and while lunch was being prepared, enjoyed a swim in those crystal torrents. That afternoon was devoted to trout, but with meagre results. The stream gleamed like polished steel, everything that moved in the waters could be seen, and doubtless its denizens enjoyed a similar advantage as regards things in the other element. At any rate, none save the smaller trout would look at a fly; so we continued our journey, following the river-side in the direction of the mountains of Villarejo. Dionysio and Caraballo had gone to a hamlet lower down for bread and wine. There was no bread, and having to wait till it was baked, delayed the march. Meanwhile, we wandered on through pine-woods with the beautiful stream fretting and foaming, and collecting a few bird-specimens, though none of much interest. We did, however, come across two gigantic nests of the black vulture, flat platforms of sticks, each superimposed on the summit of a lofty pine. Even in these uplands the black vulture nests in March, when the whole land is yet enveloped in snow, and while frequent snowstorms sweep down the valleys. So closely 222 Unexplored Spain does the parent vulture incubate, that she allows herself to be completely buried on her nest beneath the drifting snow. On these hanging steeps the eyries are overlooked from above, yet not a vestige of the sitting vulture can be seen until she is disturbed by a blow from an axe on the trunk, or by a shot fired —then off she goes, dislodging a cloud of snow from her three- yard wings as she launches into space. BLACK VULTURE (Vultur monachus) The black vulture lays but one huge egg, often boldly marked and suffused with dark-brown and rusty blotches and splashes, in contrast with the eggs of the griffon vulture, which are usually colourless or, at most, but faintly shaded. The latter, so abundant in Andalucia, is remarkably scarce in Grédos, where we saw rather more eagles than vultures. The chief bird-forms of the high sierra were ravens and choughs, ring- ouzels, rock-thrush and black-chat (Dromolaea leucura). The alpine accentor (Accentor collaris) and alpine pipit (Anthus Sierra de Grédos 223 spipoletta) also reach to the highest summits; the blue thrush lower down. In the valley of the Tormes and among the pines many British species were at home, such as blackbirds and thrushes, redstarts, nuthatches, and Dartford warblers; besides the two southern wheatears, since found to be but one dimorphic form ! THE Riscos DE VILLAREJO Three hours later the mule-train overtook us, and we pursued the track upwards towards the Riscos de Villarejo till darkness obliged us to encamp. The jagged outline ahead, marking our destination, looked far away ; we could go no nearer to-night, and outspanned on a tiny lawn on the mountain-slope. Once more we had left tree and shrub far below, but the dry piorno-scrub made fire enough to cook a frugal supper. The hunters, with their stew-pots balanced on stones, sat round us in a circle. Next morning we were alert, as usual, before the dawn—called at 4 a.M.—and off again on another terrible climb towards the summits. It is no mild trudge through turnips this Ist of September, but one more effort to interview in his haunts the Spanish mountain-ram. At 6000 feet we reached a point beyond which no domestic beast can go. Here, leaving our own men to encamp, the upward climb with the hunters begins. This day and each of the two following were devoted solely to stalking, each of us separately with his guide taking a diverging course along two of the lower ridges of the sierra. Two female ibex were descried in a position which might without difficulty have been stalked. These, how- ever, we left in peace; though, as it proved, they were the only animals seen before we regained camp, an hour after dark, tired out and empty-handed once more. On the fourth day we drove this same rock-region, but without success, only two goats, both small males, being seen. ‘The entire failure of this venture was a disappointment, as ibex were known to frequent these reefs. An explanation was suggested that a herd of domestic goats had approached too near their exclusive wild congeners, which had fled to a neighbouring mountain. That mountain, we arranged, should be explored at daylight on the morrow by two of our 2.24 Unexplored Spain hunters. The cold at night in camp was intense, and our Anda- lucian retainers complained bitterly, although they kept an enormous fire going; yet during the day the heat had been excessive, and the sun burns terribly at these altitudes. The following morning we tried a comprehensive drive encom- passing two gorges composed of sublimely grand rocks. As I look over the edge of the black pinnacle that forms my post the sheer drop below is appalling, and above me tower similar masses in rugged and frowning splendour. But not a goat was seen till quite late in the afternoon, when two females slowly approaching were descried. For a mile we watched them, so deliberate was their progress, till they disappeared through the very “pass” where A. had shot his some five years before. September 6.—Our scouts returned last night, having failed to locate ibex on the opposite mountain; so we made a final effort on the Riscos of Villarejo—again blank. Well! we have done our best for six days on those terrible rocks, on which we must now turn our backs for the present. At the village of Arénas de San Pedro we bade good-bye to all our people; even their wives (clad in the same short skirts of greens and other brilliant hues we had noticed in ’91, for fashions change slowly in the sierra) came down from Guisando to say farewell to the Ingléses. Here Ramén brought in the head of Bertie’s ibex shot the week before; Ramén presented me with his powder-horn and bullet-pouch as a keepsake, and Juanito with a mountain-staff. Our visit had marked an epoch in the simple annals of the sierra and of its honest and primitive inhabitants. To-day we rejoice to add that, as already fully set forth at pp. 141-142, wild-goats may be counted in troops on the erewhiles ibex-denuded crags of Almanzér. CHAPTER XXII AN ABANDONED PROVINCE (ESTREMADURA) Can this really be Europe—crowded Europe ? For four long days we have traversed Estremenian wilds, and during that time have scarce met a score of folk, nor seen serious evidence of effective human occupation. At first our northward way led through rolling undulations, the western foothills of the long Sierra Moréna, clad with the everlasting gum-cistus, with euonymus, a few stunted trees, and the usual aromatic brushwood of the south. Only at long intervals—say a league or two apart —would some tiny cot, of woodcutter perhaps, or goat-herd, gleam white amidst the rolling green monotone. Here and there wild-thyme (cantuéso) empurpled the slopes as it were August heather, but the chief beauty-spot was the rose-like flower of the cistus, now (May) in fullest bloom—waxy white, with orange centre and a splash like black velvet on each petal. Next, for a whole day we ride through open forest of evergreen oak and wild- olive, the floor carpeted with tasselled grasses, tufty broom, and fennel. We encamp where we list and cut firewood, none saying us nay or inquiring by what authority we do these things. One evening while we investigated an azure magpie’s nest in an ilex hard by the tents, four donkey-borne peasants appeared. Though they rode close by, yet they showed no sign, passing silent and incurious. The few natives we met hereabouts all seemed listless, apathetic, uncommunicative, in striking contrast with their sprightly southern neighbours beyond the hills in Andalucia. We read that Estremadura is a “ paludic ~ province and unhealthy ; possibly the malarial microbe has sapped energy. To forest, next day succeeded more rolling hills with ten-foot bush and scattered trees. From acrag-crowned ridge, the culminat- 225 Q 226 Unexplored Spain ing point of these, there fell within view three human habitations —three, in a vista of thirty miles—two tall castles perched in strong places, the third apparently a considerable farm. The landscape is often lovely enough, park-like, with infinite sites for country halls; yet all, all seems abandoned by man and beast. The few wild creatures observed included common and azure magpies, hoopoes, and bee-eaters, rollers, doves, kestrels, with a sprinkling of partridge and an occasional hare. A landowner in this province (Badajoz) endeavoured to preserve the game on his estate. At first all went well. As their enemies decreased, partridge rapidly multiplied. But thereupon occurred an influx of extraneous vermin (foxes and wild-cats) from adjacent wilds, and Nature restored her former exiguous balance of life. ROLLER (Coracias garrula) The scene changes. For the next twenty miles there is not a tree or a bush, hardly a living thing on those dreary levels save larks and bustards. The hungry earth shows brown and naked through its scanty herbage, stript by devouring locusts. Travelling by rail the abandonment seems yet more striking, since thus we cover more ground. True, along the line cluster some slight attempts at cultivation elsewhere absent; but these amount to nothing—a few patches of starveling oats, six to eighteen inches high, with scarce a score of blades to the yard! ‘Two men are reaping with sickles. Hach has his donkey tethered hard by, and at nightfall will ride to his distant village, a league away maybe, hidden in some unnoticed hollow. Scarce a village have we seen. The monotony wearies. The abject barrenness of Estremadura, its lifelessness, is actually worse, more pronounced and depressing, than we had anticipated. Now the far horizon on the north An Abandoned Province 227 bristles with battlements, towers, and spires—that is Trujillo, an old-world fortress of the Caesars, crowning a granite koppie in yon everlasting plain. The ten leagues that yet intervene recall, in colour and contour, a mid-Northumbrian moor, wild and bleak —here the home of bustards, stone-curlew, sand-erouse, . . . and of locusts. From the topmost turrets of Trujillo let us take one more survey of this Estremenian wilderness ere yet we pronounce a final judgement. Ascend the belfry of Santa Maria la Mayor and you command TRUJILLO an unrivalled view. Spread out beneath your gaze stretch away tawny expanses of waste and veld to a radius averaging forty miles, and everywhere girt-in by encircling mountains. To the north Grédos’ snowy peaks pierce the clouds, 100 kilometres away, with the Sierra de Gata on their left, Bejar on the right. To the eastward the Sierra de Guadalupe,’ far-famed for its shrine to Our Lady of that ilk, closes that horizon; while to westward the ranges of Sta. Cruz and Montanches shut in the frontier of Portugal. What a panorama—a circle eighty miles across ! Yet in all that expanse you can detect no more evidence of 1 This range is, in fact, a northern outspur of the Montes de Toledo, which occupy the whole space betwixt Tagus and Guadiana. Its highest peak, La Cabeza del Moro, reaches 5110 feet. 228 Unexplored Spain human presence than you would see in equatorial Africa— surveying, let us say, the well-known Athi Plains from the adjoining heights of Lukénia. We are aware that already, in describing La Mancha, we have employed an African simile ; but here, in Estremadura, the com- parison is yet more apposite and forceful than in the wildest of Don Quixote’s country. We will vary it by likening Estremadura rather to the highlands of Transvaal—the land of the back-veld Boer—than to Equatoria. Here, as there, rocky koppies stud the wastes, and (differing from La Mancha) water- courses traverse them, with intermittent pools surviving even in June, stagnant and pestilent. Such in Africa would be jungle-fringed— worth trying for a lion! Here their naked banks scarce provide covert for a hare. An index of the poverty- stricken condition of Estre- madura is afforded by the comparative absence of the birds-of-prey. Never do the soaring vultures—elsewhere so characteristic of Spanish skies —catch one’s eye, and very rarely an eagle or buzzard. A pro- vince that cannot support scavengers promises ill for mankind. In his mirror-like ‘Notes from Spain,” Richard Ford suggested that the vast unknown wildernesses of Estremadura would, if explored, yield store of wealth to the naturalist, and each succeeding naturalist (ourselves included) followed that clue. Therein, however, lurked that old human error, ignotum pro mirabil. Deserted by man, the region is equally avoided by bird and beast. We write generally and in full sense of local exceptions—that wild fallow-deer, for example, find here one, possibly their only European home ;' that red deer of superb “SCAVENGERS ” 1 Wild fallow-deer are indigenous among the infinite scrub-clad hills that fringe the course of the Tagus, as well as in various dehesas in the province of Caceres—those of Las Corchuelas and de Valero may be specified. The wild fallow are larger and finer animals than the others. An Abandoned Province 229 dimensions, roe, wolves, and wild-boars abound on Estremenian sierra and vega. Then, too, there may well be isolated spots of interest in 20,000 square miles, but which escaped our survey. Yet what we write represents the essential fact—-Estremadura is a barren lifeless wilderness and offers no more attraction to naturalist than to agriculturist. The cause of all this involves questions not easily answered. In earlier days the case may have been different. Obviously the Romans thought highly of Estremadura and meant to run it for all it was worth. The Caesars were no visionaries, and such colossal works as their reservoirs and aqueducts at Merida, the massive amphitheatre and circus at the same city (a half- completed bull-ring stands alongside in pitiful contrast), besides their construction of a first-class fortress at Trujillo, all attest a matured judgment. After the Romans came the Goths, and they, too, have left evidence of appreciation (though less conspicuous) alike in city and country. Four hundred years later the Arabs overthrew the Goths on Guadalete (a.p. 711), and within two years had overrun two-thirds of Spain. But the Moor (so far as we can see) despised these barren uplands, or perhaps assessed them at a truer value—a single strong outpost (Trujillo) in an otherwise worthless region. Much or little, however, each of those successive conquerors found some use for Estremadura. A totally different era opened with the fall of Moslem dominion. After the Reconquista and subsequent extermination of the Moors (seventeenth century), Estremadura was utterly abandoned, by Cross and Crescent alike, till the highland shepherds of the Castiles and of Leén, looking down from its northern frontier, saw in these lower- lying wastes a useful winter-grazing. Then commenced seasonal nomadic incursions thereto, pastoral tribes driving down each autumn their flocks and herds, much as the Patriarchs did in Biblical days—or the Masai in East Africa till yesterday. Though the land itself was ownerless, shadowy prescriptive rights gradually evolved, and under the title of Mestas continued to be recognised by the pastoral nomads till abolished by Royal Decree in the sixteenth century. From that date commenced the subdivision of Estremadura into the present large private estates —again recalling the back-veld Boers, who hate to live one within sight of another, except that here owners are non-resident. 230 Unexplored Spain All this may explain superficially the existing desolation. The essential causes, however, are, we believe, (1) barrenness of soil; and (2) an enervating climate, fever-infected by stagnant waters, dead pools, and ubiquitous shallow swamps that poison the air and produce mosquitoes in millions. Gazing in reflective mood upon those magnificent memorials of Roman rule at Merida, one is tempted to wonder whether, after all, the silent ruins (with a stork’s nest on each parapet) do not yet point the true way to Estremenian prosperity—IRRIGATION (plus energy—a quality one misses in Estremadura). TRUJILLO Founded 2000 years back (by Augustus Caesar), this out-of- the-world city has a knack of periodically dropping out of history —skipping a few centuries at a time—meanwhile presumably dragging on its own dreamy unrecorded existence, “by the world forgot,” till some fresh incident forces it on the stage once more. There were stirring times here while, for near a thousand years, the upland vegas were swept and ravaged by three successive waves of foreign invasion. Then Trujillo relapsed into trance, skipped the middle ages, and awoke to find at its gates another foreign foe—this time the French. And the city reflects these vicissitudes. The Roman fortress, magnificent in extent and military strength, completely covers the rugged granite heights, imposing still in crumbling ruin. Forty-foot ramparts with inner and outer defences, bastions and flanking towers, machicolated and pierced for arrow fire, crown the whole circuit of the koppie. Signs of ancient grandeur everywhere meet one’s eye; but contrasts pain at every turn. For filthy swine to-day defile palaces; donkeys are stalled in sculptured patios whence armoured knight on Arab steed once rode forth to clatter along the stone-paved ravelins that led to the point of danger. From mullioned embrasures above, whence the Euterpes and Lalagés of old waved tender adieux, now peer slatternly peasants ; crumbling battlements form homes for white owls and bats, kestrels, hoopoes, and a multitude of storks such as can nowhere else be seen congregated in a single city. The sense of desolation is accentuated by finding such feathered recluses as blue rock-thrush and blackchat actually nesting in the very citadel itself. An Abandoned Province 31 The citadel marks the era of war. The Goths followed and despised fortifications. Their ornate palaces, enriched with escutcheons and sculptured device, lie below, outside the Roman walls. After the Goths and after the Moors, Trujillo enjoyed a transient awakening when Pizarro, son of an Estremenian swine- herd, with Cortez (also born hard by), swept the New World from Mexico to the Andes, and the glory of her sons, with the gold of the Incas, poured into the city. Thereafter destiny altered. Instead of consolidating new-won dominions by foster- ing commerce, exploiting their resources by establishing forts and factories, plantations, harbours, and the like, Spain directed her energies to missionising. Instead of commercial companies with fleets of merchantmen, she sent out sacred Brotherhoods, friars of religious orders, and studded the New World with empty names, all acts right enough and laudable in their own proper time and place. Trujillo boasts an industry in the manufacture of a rough red- brown earthenware, chiefly tall water-jars, amphora - shaped, which damsels carry upright on their heads with marvellous balance; and iron-spiked dog-collars as here repre- sented. These are not suitable for lap- dogs, but for the huge mastifts employed in guarding sheep and which, without such protection, would be devoured by wolves ! WOLF-PROOF DOG-COLLAR Hitherto our journeys have led us (eitainol dtamaten.) chiefly through the Estremenian plain, but after passing Plasencia the country changes. We enter the outliers of those great sierras that shut out Estremadura from Leén and Castile, from Portugal—and the world! Here one quickly perceives signs of greater prosperity, due in part to the heavier rainfall from the hills, to a shehtly richer soil, but mainly to the superior energy of hill-folk. Wherever the soil warrants it, cultivation is pushed right up amidst the jungled slopes of the hills. In the folds of the sierra grow magnificent woods of Spanish chestnut with some walnut trees, and among these we observed a 55, Unexplored Spain many fresh species of birds, including :—nuthatch (not seen elsewhere in Spain), green woodpecker, common (but no azure) magpies, golden orioles, pied and spotted fly-catchers, grey and white wagtails (breeding), whitethroats and nightingales, longtailed tits, woodlarks, corn-buntings, rock-sparrows, and quite a number of warblers (spectacled, rufous, and subalpine, Bonelli’s and melodious willow-warblers), besides the usual common species —serins, chaflinches, robins, wrens, and so on. On the sterile upland plateaux, both here and in Castile, the black-bellied sand- grouse breeds, as well as stone-curlew, bustard, and the usual larks and chats. GRANADILLA At the extreme northern verge of the plain one encounters a singular survival of long-past and forgotten ages, the “ fenced city” of Granadilla, so absolutely unspoilt and unchanged by time that one breathes for a spell a pure medieval air. Grana- dilla is mentioned in no book that we possess ; but it stands there, nevertheless, perched on a rocky bluff above the rushing Alagén, and entirely encompassed by a thirty-foot wall. Not a single house, not a hut, shows up outside that rampart, and its single gate is guarded by a massive stone-built tower. This tower, we were told by a local friend, was erected after the “ Reconquest” (which here occurred about 1300), but the bridge which spans the Alagén, immediately below, is attributed to the Romans—more than a thousand years earlier! and the town itself to the Moors—a pretty tangle which some wandering archaeologist may some day unravel.’ That the Moors established a settlement here, or hard by, we are confident owing to the Immediately adjoining the south approach to the bridge over the Alagén is sculptured on the bluff a heraldic device representing a figure plucking a pomegranate (Granada) from a tree—the arms of Granadilla. There is an inscription, with date, beneath; but these we failed to decipher. An Abandoned Province 233 existence of extensive huertas (plantations) a few miles up the banks of Alagén. This is just one of those enclaves of rich soil for which the Arabs always had a keen eye; and ancient boundary- walls, with evidence of extreme care in irrigation and cultivation, all bespeak Moorish handiwork. These huertas are planted with fig, pomegranate, cherry, and various exotic fruit-trees, besides cork-oak and olive; every tree displaying signs of extreme old age—though that strikes one in most parts of Spain. Never have we seen more luxuriant crops of every sort than in those ancient huertas. Yet they are inset amid encircling wastes! Granadilla (its name surely suggests cherished memories in its founders of the famous Andalucian vega) lies at the gate of that strange wild mountain-region called Las Hurdes. CHAPTER XXIII LAS HURDES (ESTREMADURA) AND THE SAVAGE TRIBES THAT INHABIT THEM IsoLaTED amidst the congeries of mountain-ranges that converge upon Ledn, Castile, and Estremadura, lies a lost region that bears this name. The Hurdes occupy no small space; they represent no insignificant nook, but a fair-sized province—say fifty miles long by thirty broad—severed from the outer world; cut off LEON ie CN GSE ms JE ; LE YY oe ER > SM KR SSE oP e Capex aN © Zp iN Q fg) yt IS Rio GE EFSTREMADB A GRANADILLA SKETCH-MAP OF LAS HURDES from Portugal on the one side, from Spain on the other; while its miserable inhabitants are ignored and despised by both its neighbours. Who and what are these wild tribes (numbering 4000 souls) that, in a squalor and savagery incredible in modern Europe, cling, in solitary tenacity, to these inhospitable fastnesses:? Possibly they are the remnants of Gothish fugitives who, 1200 years ago, sought shelter in these hills from Arab scimitars ; other theories trace their origin back to an earlier era. But whether Goths or Visigoths, Vandals or other, these pale-faced Hurdanos are surely none of swarthy Arab or Saracenic blood ; 234 Las Hurdes 236 and equally certainly they are none of Spanish race. The Spanish leave them severely alone—none dwell in Las Hurdes. Being neither ethnologists nor antiquaries, nor even sensational writers, the authors confine themselves to their personal experience, stiffened by a study of what the few Spanish authorities have collated on the subject. Whatever their origin may have been, the Hurdanos of to-day are a depraved and degenerate race, to all intents and purposes savages, lost to all sense of self-respect or shame, of honesty or manliness. Too listless to take thought of the most elementary necessities of life, they are content to lead a semi-bestial existence, dependent for subsistence on their undersized goats and swine, on an exiguous and precarious cultivation, eked out by roots and wild fruits such as acorns, chestnuts, ete., and on begging outside their own region. First, as to their country. Picture a maze of mountains all utterly monotonous in uniform configuration—long straight slopes, each skyline practically parallel with that beyond, bare of trees, but clad in shoulder-high scrub. On approaching from the south, the hills are lower and display delightful variety of heaths (including common heather); but as one penetrates northwards, the bush is reduced to the everlasting gum-cistus, and elevations become loftier and more precipitous till they culminate in the sheer rock-walls of the Sierra de Gata. Here, in remote glens, one chances on groves of ilex and cork-oak, whose gnarled boles attest the absence of woodcutters, while huge trunks lie prostrate, decaying from sheer old age. Here and there one sees an ilex enveloped to its summit in parasitic growths of creepers and wild-vine, whose broad, pale-green leaves contrast pleasingly with the dusky foliage and small leaf of its host. In the deep gorges or canyons of these mountains are situate ‘the settlements, called Alquertas, of the wild tribes, most of them inaccessible on horseback. That of Romano de Arriba, for example, is plunged in such an abyss that from November to March no ray of sunshine ever reaches it. A similar case is that of Casa Hurdes, which, as seen from the bridle-track leading over the Sierra de Portéros into Castile, appears buried in the bottom of a crevasse. Others, in the reverse, are perched on high, amidst crags that can only be surmounted by a severe scramble up broken rock-stairways. 236 Unexplored Spain These alquertas—warrens we may translate the word—consist of den-like hovels straggling without order or huddled together according as the rock-formation may dictate—some half-piled one on another, others separate. Many are mere holes in the earth— lairs, shapeless as nature left their walls, but roofed over with branches and grass held in place by schistose slabs that serve for slates. Hardly, in some cases, can one distinguish human dwellings from surrounding bush, earth, or rock. As our companion, a civil guard, remarked of one set of eyries that adhered to a cliff-face, they rather resembled “the nests of crag- martins”’ (nzdos de vencéjos) than abodes of mankind. Within are two tiny compartments, the first occupied by goats or swine, the second littered with bracken on which the whole family sleep, irrespective of age or sex. There is no light nor furniture of any description ; no utensils for washing, hardly even for cooking. ‘True, there is in some of the lairs a hollowed trunk which may serve as a bed, but its original design (as the name batane imports) was for pressing the grapes and olives in’ autumn. No refuse is ever thrown out; even the filthy ferns are retained for use as manure for the orchards—in a word, these poor creatures habitually sleep on a manure-heap. Even wild beasts, the wolves and boars, are infinitely more attentive to domestic cleanliness and purity. Another alqueria visited by the authors, that of Rubidco, consisted of a massed cluster of sties embedded on the slopes of a low ridge bordered on either side by crystal-bright mountain streams. So timid and shy are the natives that several were descried actually taking to the hill on our appearance. A dis- tribution of tobacco, with coloured handkerchiefs for the women, restored a measure of confidence, and we succeeded in collecting a group or two for the camera. The day, however, was dull and overcast, and rain, unluckily, fell at that precise moment. These people, clad in patch-work of rags, leather and untanned skins, were undersized, pallid of complexion, plain (though we would scarce say repulsive) in appearance, with dull incurious eyes that were instantly averted when our glances met. The men, otherwise stolid and undemonstrative, affected a vacuous grin or giggle, but utterly devoid of any spark of joy or gladness. Many (though by no means all) displayed distinctly flattened noses, somewhat of the Mongolian type; and not even among Las Hurdes 259 the younger girls could a trace of good looks be detected. All went bare-foot, indeed bare-legged to the knee. On opening the door of a den—an old packing-case lid, three feet high, secured by a thong of goatskin—two pigs dashed forth squealing, and at the first step inside the writer's foot splashed in fetid moisture hidden beneath a litter of green fern. It being dark within, and too low to stand upright, I struck a match and presently became aware of a living object almost underfoot. It proved to be a baby, no bigger than a rabbit, and with tiny black bead-like eyes that gleamed with a wild light—never before have we seen such glance on human face. While examining this phenomenon, a sound from the inner darkness revealed a second inmate. We crept into this lair, scrambling up two steps in the natural rock, and from the fern-litter arose a female. She stood about three feet high, had the same wild eyes, unkempt hair, encrusted brown with dirt, hanging loose over her naked shoulders —a merciful darkness concealed the rest. She appeared to be about ten years old, and dwarfed and undersized at that; yet she told us she was fourteen, and the mother of the rabbit-child, also that its father had deserted her a month ago—ten days before its birth. The lair contained absolutely no furniture, unless dead fern be so styled. Can human misery further go? The next hovel did contain a batane, or hollowed tree, in which lay some scanty rags like fragments of discarded horse- cloths. So lacking are these poor savages in any sufficient clothing, whether for day or night, that the children, we were assured, were habitually laid to sleep among the swine, in order to share the natural warmth of those beasts. In one abode only did we discover such convenience as a wooden chest. It contained a handful of potatoes, some chestnuts, and a broken iron cooking- pot. We examined another den or two—practically all were alike. If anything was there that escaped our attention we had an excuse—the aroma (personal, porcine, and putrid) was more than the strongest could endure for many minutes on end. We turned away. Mingled feelings of loathing, of pity, and of despair at the utter hopelessness of it all filled our minds. There, not a hundred yards away, a contrasted sight met our eyes, one of humbler nature’s most perfect scenes: a fledgeling brood of white wagtails tripped gaily along the burnside—types of pure spotless beauty, overflowing with high spirits and the joy 238 Unexplored Spain of life. A few minutes later, and a pair of ring-plovers (Aegialitis curonica) on the river accentuated the same pitiful contrast. Such small cultivation as exists in the Hurdes is carried on under supreme difficulty. The hills themselves are uncultivable, and the only opportunities that present themselves are either chance open spaces amidst interminable rock, or such rare and narrow strips of soil as can exist between precipitous slopes and the banks of the streams. Here little garden-patches, thirty or forty feet long by a dozen in width, are reclaimed ; but the very earth is liable to be swept away by winter-floods pouring down the mountain-sides, and has to be replaced by fresh soil carried —it may be long distances—on men’s shoulders. Here a few potatoes may be raised and in the broader valleys scant crops of WHITE WAGTAIL rye. The few fruit trees are neglected, and therefore give short yield, though what little is produced is of exquisite flavour, com- prising figs, cherries, a sort of peach (pavia), olives, and vines. All crops are subject to the ravages of wild-boars, which roam in bands of a dozen to a score, fearless of man and molested by none; while wolves take toll of the flocks. Red deer also wander freely and unpreserved over these ownerless hills—possibly the only place in Europe where such is the case. We inquired whether many were shot, but were told that such an event occurred rarely, though the Hurdano gunner might often approach within close range. ‘‘ We are not ensefados [instructed] in the arts of chase,” explained our informant. A few partridges and hares are found, with trout in the upper waters. Despite their degradation, the Hurdanos, we were assured, display no criminal taint such as is inherent among Gipsies. Las Hurdes 2.39 As regards the habits and customs of these people, we here roughly transcribe from the work of Pascual Madoz! some selected extracts that appear to be as accurate to-day as when they were written some sixty years ago. The food of the Hurdanos is as noxious as it is scanty. The potato is the general stand-by, either boiled or cooked with crude goat’s suet ; sometimes beans fried in the same grease, and lastly the leaves of trees, boiled; with roots, the stalks of certain wild grasses, chestnuts, and acorns. Bread is practically unknown—all they ever have is made of coarse rye and such crusts as they obtain by begging outside their district. Only when at the point of death is wheaten bread provided. A WOLF-PROOF SHEEPFOLD ON THE ALAGON, NORTH ESTREMADURA Walls 10 feet high: note the shepherd's dwelling alongside. Within are sheep. Their clothing consists of a shapeless garment reaching from the hip to the knee, a shirt without collar, fastening with one button, and a sack carried over the shoulder. They have no warm clothing and all go bare- foot. The women are even less tidy and dirtier than the men. Never have they a vestige of anything new—nothing but discarded garments obtained by begging, or in exchange for chestnuts, at the distant towns. Their usual “fashion is never to take off, to mend, or to wash any rag they have once put on—it is worn till it falls off through sheer old age and dirt. They never wash nor brush their hair, and go bare-legged like the men. These, moreover, are the richest ; the majority being clad in goatskins (untanned) that they kill or that die. These skins the men fix round } Diccionario geografico, estadistico, y historico de Espaia, by Pascual Madoz (Madrid, 1845), 2.4.0 Unexplored Spain their necks, girt at waist and round the knees with straps; the women merely an apron from the waist downward. Men and women alike are dwarfed in stature and repugnant in appearance, augmented by their pallor and starveling look. On the other hand, they are active and expert in climbing their native mountains, There is no outward difference in the sexes as regards their lives and means of subsistence. All their environment tends to make them untractable and savage (sylvaticos), shunning contact with their kind, even fleeing at sight and refusing to speak. They have no doctors nor surgeons, relying on certain herbs for medicines ; yet they live long lives. They only recognise the passing seasons by the state of vegetation and of the atmosphere. They sow and reap according to the phases of the moon, of which they preserve an accurate observation. Religion and schools alike are unknown. They glory in their freedom from all moral suasion, and rejoice in the most brutal immorality and crime—including parricide and polygamy. There are alquerias wherein no priest has set foot, nor do they possess the faintest sense of Christian duties. It seems incredible that in the midst of two provinces both wealthy and well reputed there should exist a plague-spot such as we have painted, unknown as the remotest kraals of Central Africa. Thus Pascual Madoz in 1845, and but little external change has become apparent in sixty-five subsequent years. Churches, it is true, have been erected, priests and schoolmasters appointed. Amelioration, however, by such means can only come very slowly —if at all. The physical and domestic status of these poor savages must first be raised before they are mentally capable of assimilating the mysteries of religion. Spain, however, owes them something. They are heavily taxed—beyond their power to pay in cash. Thus they are cast into the power of usurers. In each alqueria, we were told, is usually found one man more astute than the rest, and he, in combination with some sordid scoundrel outside, exploits the misery of his fellows. A species of semi- slavery is thus established—in some ways analogous to the baneful system of Caczquesmo outside. The Hurdanos are also subject to the conscription and furnish forty to fifty recruits yearly to the Spanish army. Curiously, time-expired men all elect to return to their wretched lot in the 1A later Spanish work, the Décctonario enciclopedico hispano-americano (Barcelona, 1892), regards some of Pascual Madoz’s descriptions as over-coloured and exaggerated. Our own observation, however, rather tended to confirm his views and to show that subsequent amelioration exists rather in name than in fact. Las Hurdes 241 mountains. On our asking one of these (he had served at Melilla), “Why ?” his reply was, “ for liberty.” ? There is a villainous custom in vogue that hurls these poor wretches yet farther down the bottomless pit. This abomination rages to-day as it did a hundred years ago: we therefore again leave old Pascual Madoz to tell the tale in his own words :— Many women make a miserable livelinood—it is indeed their only industry—by rearing foundling infants from the hospitals of Ciudad Rodrigo and Placencia. So keen are they of the money thus obtained that one woman, aided by a goat, will undertake to rear three or four babes—all necessarily so ill-tended and ill-fed as rather to resemble living spectres than human beings. Cast down on beds of filthy ferns and lacking all maternal care, the majority perish from hunger, cold, and neglect. The few that reach childhood are weaklings for life, feeble and infirm. This repulsive “industry” continues to-day, a sum of three dollars a month being paid by the authorities of the cities named to rid themselves of each undesired infant. The effect—direct and incidental—upon morals and sexual relationship in the alquerias of the Hurdes may (in degree) be deduced—it cannot be set down in words. Thus the single point of contact with civilisation serves but to accentuate the degradation. 1 The Hurdanos, we were told, make bad soldiers. Being despised by their comrades, they are only employed on the menial work of the barracks. Many, from long desuetude, are unable to wear boots. CHAPTER XXIV THE GREAT BUSTARD Over the vast expanse of those silent solitudes, the corn-growing steppes of Spain—all but abandoned by human denizens—this grandest and most majestic of European game-birds forms the chief ornament. When the sprouting grain grows green in spring, stretching from horizon to horizon, you may form his acquaintance to best advantage. And among the things of sport are few more attractive scenes than a band of great bustards at rest. Bring your field-glass to bear on the gathering which you see yonder, basking in the sunshine in full enjoyment of their mid-day siesta. There are five-and-twenty of them, and immense they look against the green background of corn that covers the landscape—well may a stranger mistake the birds for deer or goats. Many sit turkey-fashion, with heads half sunk among back-feathers ; others stand in drowsy yet ever-suspicious attitudes, their broad backs resplendent with those mottled hues of true game-colour, their lavender necks and well-poised heads contrast- ing with the snowy whiteness of the lower plumage.’ The bustard are dotted in groups over an acre or two of gently sloping ground, the highest part of which is occupied by a single big Barbudo—a bearded veteran, the sentinel of the pack. From that elevated position he estimates what degree of danger each living thing that moves on the open region around may threaten to his company and to himself. Mounted men cause him less concern than those on foot. A horseman slowly directing a circuitous course may even approach to within a couple of hundred yards ere he takes alarm. It was the head and neck of this sentry that first appeared to our distant view and disclosed the 1 The white on a bustard’s plumage exceeds in its intensity that of almost any other bird we know. It is a dead white, without shade or the least symptom of any second tint so usual a feature in white. 249 The Great Bustard 2.43 whereabouts of the game. He, too; has seen us, and is even now considering whether there be sufficient cause for setting his convoy in motion. If we disappear below the level of his range, he will settle the point negatively, setting us down as merely some of those agricultural nuisances which so often cause him alarm but which his experience has shown to be generally harmless —for attempts on his life are few and far between. Another charming spectacle it is in the summer-time to watch a pack of bustard about sunset, all busy with their evening feed among the grasshoppers on a thistle-clad plain. They are working against time, for it will soon be too dark to catch such lively THE GREAT BUSTARD prey. With quick darting step they run to and fro, picking up one grasshopper after another with unerring aim, and so intent on pursuit that the best chance of the day is then offered to a gunner, when greed for a moment supplants caution and vigilance is relaxed. But even now a man on foot stands no chance of coming anywhere near them. His approach is observed from afar, all heads are up above the thistles, every eye intent on the intruder ; a moment or two of doubt, two quick steps and a spring, and the broad wings of every bird in the pack flap in slowly rising motion. The tardiness and apparent difficulty in rising from the ground which bustards exhibit is well expressed in their Spanish name Avetarda’ and recognised in the scientific cognomen 1 Avetarda is old Spanish, the modern spelling being Abutarda. 24.4 Unexplored Spain of Otis tarda. Once on the wing the whole band is off with wide swinging flight to the highest ground in the neighbourhood. The chase of the great bustard presents characteristics and attractions peculiar to itself and differing from that of all other winged game. Rather it resembles the scientific pursuit of big game; for this is a sport in which the actual shot becomes of secondary importance, merely a culminating incident—the consummation of previous forethought, fieldcraft, and general- ship. Success in bustard-shooting—alike with success in stalking —is usually attributable to the leader, who has planned the operation and directed the strategy, rather than to the man who may have actually killed the game. We here refer exclusively to what we may be permitted to call the scientific aspect of this chase, as practised by ourselves and as distinguished from other (and far more deadly) methods in vogue among the Spanish herdsmen and peasantry. Before describing the former system, let us glance at native methods of securing the great bustard. During the greater part of the year bustard are far too wary to be obtained by the farm-hands and shepherds who see them every day—so accustomed are the peasantry to the sight of these noble birds that little or no notice is taken of them and their pursuit regarded as impracticable. There is, however, one period of the year when the great bustard falls an easy prey to the clumsiest of gunners. During the long Andalucian summer a torrid sun has drunk up every brook and stream that crosses the cultivated lands; the chinky, cracked mud, which in winter formed the bed of shallow lakes and lagoons, now yields no drop of moisture for bird or beast. The larger rivers still carry their waters from sierra to sea, but an adaptive genius is required to utilise these for purposes of irrigation. All water required for the cattle is drawn up from wells; the old-world lever with its bucket at one end and counterpoise at the other has to provide for the needs of all. These wells are distributed all over the plains. As the herdsmen put the primitive contrivance into operation and swing up bucketful after bucketful of cool water, the cattle crowd around, impatient to receive it as it rushes down the stone troughing. The thirsty The Great Bustard 245 animals drink their fill, splashing and wasting as much as they consume, so that a puddle is always formed about these bebideros. The moisture only extends a few yards, gradually diminishing, till the trickling streamlet is lost in the famishing soil. These moist places are a fatal trap to the bustard. Before dawn one of the farm-people will conceal himself so as to command at short range all points of the miniature swamp. A slight hollow is dug for the purpose, having clods arranged around, between which the gun can be levelled with murderous accuracy. As day begins to dawn, the bustard will take a flight in the direction of the well, alighting at a point some few hundred yards distant. They satisfy themselves that no enemy is about, and then, with cautious, stately step, make for their morning draught. One big bird steps on ahead of the rest; and as he cautiously draws near, he stops now and again to assure himself that all is right and that his companions are coming too—these are not in a compact body, but following at intervals of a few yards. The leader has reached the spot where he drank yesterday ; now he finds he must go a little nearer to the well, as the streamlet has been diverted ; another bird follows close ; both lower their heads to drink ; the gunner has them in line—at twenty paces there is no escape; the trigger is pressed, and two magnificent bustards are done to death. Should the man be provided with a second barrel (which is not usual), a third victim may be added to his morning’s spoils. Comparatively large numbers of bustard are destroyed thus every summer. It is deadly work and certain. Luckily, however, the plan enjoys but a single success, since bands, once shot at, never return. A second primitive method of capturing the great bustard is practised in winter. The increased value of game during the colder months induces the bird-catchers, who then supply the markets with myriads of ground-larks, linnets, buntings, etc., occasionally to direct their skill towards the capture of bustard by the same means as prove efficacious with the small fry—that is, the cencerro, or cattle-bell, combined with a dark lantern. As most cattle carry the cencerro around their necks, the sound of the bell at close quarters by night causes no alarm to ground-birds. ‘he bird-catcher, with his bright lantern gleaming before its reflector and the cattle-bell jingling at his wrist, prowls nightly around the stubbles and wastes in search of roosting birds. 246 Unexplored Spain Any number of bewildered victims can thus be gathered, for larks and such-like birds fall into a helpless state of panic when once focussed in the rays of the lantern. When the bustard is the object of pursuit, two men are required, one of whom carries a gun. The pack of bustard will be carefully watched during the afternoon, and not lost sight of when night comes until their sleeping-quarters are ascertained. When quite dark, the tinkling of the cencerro will be heard, and a ray of light will surround the devoted bustards, charming or frightening them—whichever it may be—into still life. As the familiar sound of the cattle-bell becomes louder and nearer, CALANDRA LARK A large and handsome species characteristic of the corn-lands. the ray of light brighter and brighter, and the surrounding darkuess more intense, the bustards are too charmed or too dazed to fly. Then comes the report, and a charge of heavy shot works havoc among them. As bands of bustards are numerous, this poaching plan might be carried out night after night; but luckily the bustards will not stand the same experience twice. Ona second attempt being made, they are off as soon as they see the light approaching. The third (and by far the most murderous) means of destruction is due, not so much to rural peasantry as to cazadores—shooters from adjoining towns—men who should know better, and whom, in other respects, we might rank as good sportsmen; but who, alas! can see no shame in shooting the hen-bustards with their half- fledged broods in the standing corn during June and July—albeit the deed is done in direct contravention of the game-laws! Dogs, The Great Bustard 24.7 especially pointers, are employed upon this quest when the mother-bustards, being reluctant to leave their young, lie as close as September partridges in a root-crop; while the broods, either too terrified or too immature to fly, are frequently caught by the dogs. We regret that there are those who actually descant with pride upon having slaughtered a dozen or more of these helpless creatures in a day; while others are only restrained from a like crime by the scorching solar heats of that season. More bustards are killed thus than by all the other methods combined—a hundred times more than by our scientific and sports- manlike system of driving presently to be described. Except for this unworthy massacre of mothers with their broods in summer, and the two clumsy artifices before mentioned, the bustards are left practically unmolested—their wildness and the open nature of their haunts defy all the strategy of native fowlers. The hen-bustard deposits her eggs—usually three, but on very rare occasions four—-among the green April corn; incubation and the rearing of the young take place in the security of vast silent stretches of waving wheat. The young bustards grow with that wheat, and, ere it is reaped (unless prematurely massacred), are able to take care of themselves. A somewhat more legitimate method of outwitting the great bustard is practised at this season. During harvest, while the country is being cleared of crops, the birds become accustomed to see bullock-carts daily passing with creaking wheel to carry away the sheaves from the stubble to the era, or levelled threshing-ground, where the grain is trodden out, Spanish fashion, by teams of mares. The loan of a carro with its pair of oxen and their driver having been obtained, the cart is rigged up with estéras—that is, esparto-matting stretched round the uprights which serve to hold the load of sheaves in position. A few sacks of straw thrown on the floor of the cart save one, in some small degree, from the merciless jolting of this primitive conveyance on rough ground. Two or three guns can find room therein, while the driver, lying forward, directs the team with a goad. This moving battery fairly resembles a load of sheaves, and well do we remember the terrible, suffocating heat we have endured, shut up for hours in this thing during the blazing days of July and August. The result, nevertheless, repays all suffering. We refer to no mere cynegetic pride but to the enduring joy of 248 Unexplored Spain observing, at close quarters and still unsuspicious, these glorious game-birds at home on their private plains. The local idea is to fire through a slit previously made in the estéras; but some- how, when the cart stops and the game instantly rises, you find (despite care and practice) that the birds always fly in a direc- tion you cannot command or where the narrow slit forbids your covering them. Hence we adopted the plan of sliding off behind as the cart pulled up, thus firing the two barrels with perfect freedom. We have succeeded by this means in bringing to bag many pairs of bustard during a day’s manceuvring. V "AE BGs — SPANISH THISTLE AND STONECHAT We now come to the system of bustard-driving, which we regard as practically the only really legitimate method of dealing with this grand game. From the end of August onwards the young bustards are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. The country is then cleared of crops, and while this precludes the birds being “done to death as in the weeks immediately preceding, yet the ubiquitous thistles (often of gigantic size, ten or twelve feet in height), charlock, and v/znagas provide welcome covert for concealing the guns, while the heat still renders the game somewhat more susceptible to the artifices of the fowler. This is the easiest period. The Great Bustard 249 As the season advances the hunter’s difficulties increase. The brown earth becomes daily more and more naked, while files of slow-moving ox-teams everywhere traverse the stubble, ploughing league-long furrows twenty abreast. These factors combine to aid the game and stretch to its utmost limit the venatic instincts of the fowler. Let us now attempt to describe a day's bustard-driving on scientific lines. The district having being selected, it is advisable to send out the night before a trustworthy scout who will sleep at the cortyo and be abroad with the dawn in order to locate pre- cisely the various bandadas, or troops of bustard, in the neigh- bourhood. The shooting-party (three or four guns for choice, but in no case to exceed six') follow in the morning—riding, as a rule, to the rendezvous; though should there be a high-road available it is sometimes convenient to drive (or nowadays even to motor), having in that case sent the saddle-horses forward, along with the scout, on the previous day. Arrived at the cortyo, the scout brings in his report, and at once guns and drivers, all mounted, proceed towards the nearest of the marked bandadas. Not only are the distances to be covered so great as to render riding a necessity, but the use of horses has this further advantage that bustard evince less fear of mounted men and thus permit of nearer approach. The drivers should number three—the centre to flush the birds, two flankers to gallop at top speed in any direction should the game diverge from the required course or attempt to break out laterally. Ten minutes’ ride and we are within view of our first bandada still a mile away. They may be feeding on some broad slope, resting on the crest of a ridge, or dawdling on a level plain; but wherever the game may be—whatever the strategic value of their position—at least the decision of our own tactics must be clinched at once. No long lingering with futile discussion, no hesitation, or continued spying with the glass is permissible. Such follies instil instant suspicion into the astute brains on yonder hill, and the honours of the first round pass to the enemy. For this reason it is imperative to appoint one leader vested A large number of horsemen inevitably excites suspicion in game unaccustomed to see more than three or four men together. 2.50 Unexplored Spain with supreme authority, and whose directions all must obey instantly and implicitly. Needless to say, that leader must possess a thorough knowledge both of the habits of bustard and the lie of a country—along with the rather rare faculty of diagnosing ata glance its “advantages,” its dangers, and its salient points over some half-league of space. None too common an attribute that, where all the wide prospect is grey or green, varying according to ever-changing lights, and the downlands so gently graded as occasionally to deceive the very elect. Much of the bustard-country appears all: but flat, so slight are its folds and undulations; while even the more favouring regions are rarely so boldly contoured as Salisbury Plain. The leader must combine some of the qualities of a field-marshal with the skill of a deer-stalker, and a bit of red- Indian sleuth thrown in. Luckily, such masters of the craft are not entirely lacking to us. . The thoughts revolving in the leader's mind during his brief survey follow these general lines: First, which is (a) the favourite and (b) the most favourable line of flight of those bustards when disturbed; secondly, where can guns best be placed athwart that line; thirdly, how can the guns reach these points unseen? A condition precedent to success is that the firing-line shall be drawn around the bustards fairly close up, yet without their knowledge. Now with wild-game in open country devoid of fences, hollows, or covert of any description that problem presents initial difficulties that may well appear insuperable. But they are rarely quite so. It is here that the fielderaft of the leader comes in. He has detected some slight fold that will shelter horsemen up to a given point, and beyond that, screen a crouching figure to within 300 yards of the unconscious bandada. Rarely do watercourses or valleys of sufficient depth lend a welcome aid; recourse must usually be had to the reverse slope of the hill whereon the bustards happen to be. Without a halt, the party ride round till out of sight. At the farthest safe advance, the guns dismount and proceed to spread themselves out—so far as possible in a semicircle—around the focal point.’ At 80 yards apart, each lies prone on earth, utilising such shelter 1 The horses, if ground permits, may be utilised as ‘‘stops” to extreme right and left of the drive, otherwise they must be concealed in some convenient hollow in charge of a boy or two. wannat acar ART —YOUNG. (2) AT TWENTY DAYS OLD. (3) AT ONE MONTH. SLENDER-BILLED CURLEW (NUMENIUS TENUIROSTRIS). [See CHAPTER ON * Biko-LireE, infra. | The Great Bustard 251 (if any) as may exist on the naked decline—say skeleton thistles, a tuft of wild asparagus, or on rare occasion some natural bank or tiny rain-scoop. Having now succeeded in placing his guns unseen and within a fatal radius, the leader may congratulate himself that his main object has been achieved. On the nearness of the line to the game, and on his correct diagnosis of the bustards’ flight depends the issue. [It may be added that bustard are occasionally found in situa- tions that offer no reasonable hope of a successful drive. It may then (should no others be known within the radius of action) become advisable gently to ““move” the inexpugnable troop ; remembering that once these birds realise that they are being “driven,” the likelihood of subsequently putting them over the guns has enormously decreased. There accrues an incidental advantage in this operation, for after “moving” them to more favouring ground, it will not be necessary to line-up the guns quite so near as is usually essential to success. For bustards possess so strong an attachment to their querencias, or individual haunts, that they may be relied upon, on being disturbed a second time, to wing a course more or less in the direction of their original position. We give a specific instance of this later. Each pack of bustard has its own querencia, and will be found at certain hours to frequent certain places. This local knowledge, if obtainable, saves infinite time and vast distances traversed in search of game whose approximate positions, after all, may thus be ascertained beforehand. | Now we have placed our guns in line and within that short distance of the unsuspecting game that all but assures a certain shot. We cannot, let us confess, recall many moments in life of more tense excitement than those spent thus, lying prone on the gentle slope listening with every sense on stretch for the cries of the galloping beaters as in wild career they urge the huge birds towards a fatal course. Before us rises the curving ridge, its summit sharply defined against an azure sky—azure but empty. Now the light air wafts to our ear the tumultuous pulsations of giant wings, and five seconds later that erst empty ether is crowded with two score huge forms. What a scene—and what 552 Unexplored Spain commotion as, realising the danger, each great bird with strong and laboured wing-stroke swerves aside. One enormous barbon directly overhead receives first attention ; a second, full broadside, presents no more difficulty, and ere the double thuds behind have attested the result, we realise that a third, shying off from our neighbour, is also ‘our meat.” This has proved one of our luckier drives, for the bandada, splitting up on the centre, offered chances to both flanks of the blockading line—chances which are not always fully exploited. We have stated, earlier in this chapter, that among the various component factors in a bustard-drive the actual shot is SWERVE ASIDE TO RIGHT AND LEFT of minor importance. That is so; yet truly remarkable is the frequency with which good shots constantly miss the easiest of chances at these great birds. Precisely similar failures occur with wild-geese, with swans—indeed with all big birds whose wing-action is deliberate and slow. Tardy strokes deceive the eye, and the great bulk of the bustard accentuates the deception —it seems impossible to miss them, a fatal error. As the Spanish drivers put it: ‘Se les llenaron el ojo de carne,” literally, “the bustards had filled your eye with meat ”—the hapless marksmen saw everything bustard! Yet geese with their 40 strokes fly past ducks at 120, and the bustard’s apparently leisured movement carries him in full career as fast as whirring grouse with 200 revolutions to the minute. To kill bustard treat them on the same basis as the smaller game that appears faster but is not. Bustards being soft-plumaged are not hard to kill. As compared with such ironclads as wild-geese, they are singularly The Great Bustard 253 easily killed, and with AAA shot may be dropped stone-dead at 80 and even at 100 yards. A pair of guns may thus profitably be brought into action. Bustards seldom run, but they walk very fast, especially when alarmed. Between the inception of a drive and the moment of flushing we have known them to cover half a mile, and many drives fail owing to game having completely altered its original position. Instances have occurred of bustards walking over the dividing ridge, to the amazement of the prostrate sportsmen on the hither slope. Strange to say, when winged they do not make off, but remain where they have fallen, and an old male will usually show fight. Of course if left alone and out of sight a winged bustard will travel far. In weight cock-bustard vary from, say, 20 to 22 lbs. in autumn up to 28 to 30 Ibs. in April. The biggest old males in spring reach 33 and 34 lbs., and one we presented to the National Collection at South Kensington scaled 37 lbs. The breast-bone of these big birds is usually quite bare, a horny callosity, owing to friction with the ground while squatting, and the heads and necks of old males usually exhibit gaps in their gorgeous spring- plumage — indicative of severe encounters among themselves. Hen-bustard seldom exceed 15 lbs. at any season. Bustard are usually found in troops varying. from half-a-dozen birds to as many as 50 or 60, and in September we have seen 200 together. Bustard-shooting—by which we mean legitimate driving during the winter months, September to April—is necessarily uncertain in results. Some days birds may not even be seen, though this is unusual, while on others many big bands may be met with. Hence it is difficult to put down an average, though we roughly estimate a bird a gun as an excellent day’s work. A not unusual bag for six guns will be about eight head; but we have a note of two days’ shooting in April (in two consecutive years) when a party of eight guns, all well-known shots, secured 21 and 22 bustard respectively, together with a single lesser bustard on each day. This was on lands between Alcantarillas and Las Cabezas, but it is fair to add that the ground had been carefully preserved by the owner and the operation organised regardless of expense. A minor difficulty inherent to this pursuit is to select the 254 Unexplored Spain precise psychological moment to spring up to shooting-position. This indeed is a feature common to most forms of wild-shooting —such as duck-flighting, driving geese or even snipe; in fact there is hardly a really wild creature that can be dealt with from a comfortable position erect on one’s legs. Imagine partridge- shooters at home, instead of standing comfortably protected by hedge or butt, being told to hide themselves on a wet plough or bare stubble. Here, in Spain, it may also be necessary to conceal the gun under one’s right side (to avoid sun-glints), and that also loses a moment. All one’s care and elaborate strategy is ofttimes nullified through the blunders of a novice. Some men have no more sense of concealment than that fabled ostrich which is said to BUSTARDS PASSING FULL BROADSIDE hide its head in the sand (which it doesn’t); others can’t keep still. These are for ever poking their heads up and down or— worse still—trying to see what is occurring in front. We may conclude this chapter with a hint or two to new hands. Never move from your prone position till the bustard are in shot, and after that, not till you are sure the whole operation is complete. There may yet be other birds enclosed though you do not know it. Never claim to have wounded a bustard merely because it passed so near and offered so easy a shot that you can’t believe you missed it. You did miss it or it would be lying dead behind. All the same keep one eye on any bird you have fired at so long as it remains in view. Bustards shot through the lungs will sometimes fly half a mile and then drop dead. The Great Bustard 255 Wear clothes suited, more or less, to environment—greenish, we suggest, for choice—but remember that immobility is tenfold more important than colour. A pure white object that is quiescent is overlooked, where a clod of turf that moves attracts instant attention. In spring, when bustards gorge on green food, gralloch your victims at once, otherwise the half-digested mass in the crop quickly decomposes and destroys the meat. Here is an example of an error in judgment that practically amounted to a blunder. Before our well-concealed line stood a grand pack, between thirty and forty bustard beautifully “ horse- shoed,” and quite unconscious thereof. Momentarily we expected their entry—right in our faces! At that critical moment there appeared, wide on the right flank and actually behind us, three huge old barbones directing a course that would bring them along close in rear of our line. No. 4 gun, on extreme right, properly allowed this trio to pass; not so No. 3. But the culprit, on rising to fire, had the chagrin to realise (too late) his error. The whole superb army-corps in front were at that very moment sweeping forward direct on the centre of our line! In an instant they took it in, swerved majestically to the left, and escaped scot-free. That No. 3 had secured a right-and-left at the adventitious trio in no sort of way exculpated his mistake. CHAPTER XXV THE GREAT BUSTARD (Continued) Tue following illustrates in outline a day’s bustard-shooting and incidentally shows how strongly haunted these birds are, each pack to its own particular locality. On reaching our point (a seventeen-kilometres’ drive), the scouts sent out the day before reported three bands numbering roughly forty, forty, and sixteen—in all nearly a hundred birds. The nearest lot was to the west. These we found easily, and B. F. B. got a brace, right-and-left, without incident. Riding back eastwards, the second pack had moved, but we shortly descried the third, in two divisions, a mile away. It being noon, the bustards were mostly lying down or standing drowsily, and we halted for lunch before commencing the operation. During the afternoon we drove this pack three times, secur- ing a brace on first and third drives, while on the second the birds broke out to the side. : Now bustards are, in Spanish phrase, muy querenciosos, 1.e. attached to their own particular terrain; and as in these three drives we had pushed them far beyond their much-loved limit, they were now restless and anxious to return. Already before our guns had reached their posts for a fourth drive, seven great bustards were seen on the wing, and a few minutes later the remaining thirty took flight, voluntarily, the whole phalanx shaping their course directly towards us. The outmost gun was still moving forward to his post under the crest of the hill, and the pack, seeing him, swerved across our line below, and (these guns luckily having seen what was passing and taken cover) thus lost another brace of their number. The bustards shot to-day (January 16), though all full-grown males, only weighed from 253 to 2634 lbs. apiece. Two months 256 The Great Bustard 259 later they would have averaged over 30 lbs., the increased weight being largely due to the abundant feed in spring, but possibly more to the solid distention of the neck.! This wet season (1908) the grass on the manchones, or fallows, was rank and luxuriant, nearly knee-deep in close vege- tation—more like April than January. Already these bustards were showing signs of the chestnut neck, and all had acquired their whiskers. The following winter (1909) was dry and not a scrap of vegetation on the fallows. Even in February they were absolutely naked and the cattle being fed on broken straw in the byres. The quill-feathers are pale-grey or ash-colour, only deepening into a darker shade towards the tips, and that only on the first two or three feathers. The shafts are white, secondaries black, and bastard-wing lavender-white, slightly tipped with a darker shade. In Wild Spain will be found described two methods by which the great bustard may be secured: (A) by a single gun riding quite alone; and (B) by two guns working jointly, one taking the chance of a drive, the other outmancuvring the game as in plan (A). We here add a third plan which has occasionally stood us (when alone) in good stead. On finding bustard on a suitable hill, leave your man to ride slowly to and fro attracting the attention of the game till you have had time, by hard running, to gain the reverse slope. ‘The attendant then rides forward, the whole operation being so punctually timed that you reach the crest of the ridge at the same moment as the walking bustards have arrived within shot thereof. Needless to add, this involves, besides hard work, a considerable degree of luck, yet on several occasions we have secured as many as four birds a day by this means. The great bustard, one imagines, has few enemies except man, but the following incident shows they are not entirely exempt from extraneous dangers. In October, some years ago, the writer purposed spending a couple of nights at a distant marsh in order to see whether any snipe had yet come in. Our course led us through good bustard-country, and by an early start 1 We know of no other bird that increases thus in weight anticipatory of the breeding- season, nor are we at all sure that it is the swollen neck that explains that increase. Ss 258 Unexplored Spain I had hoped to exploit this in passing. Hardly had we entered upon the corn-lands than we espied fifteen bustard, a quarter-mile away on the right. The rough bridle-track being worn slightly hollow and no better cover appearing, I decided to “ flatten” on the spot, sending my two men to ride round beyond the game, which, being in a dip, was now below my range of sight. In due course the bustards appeared, winging directly towards me, but alighting in front when already almost in shot. Feeling practically certain of them now, since | could hear the shouts of the beaters beyond, I raised myself slightly, only to see, to my utter chagrin, the bustards flying off in diametrically the opposite direction while simultaneously a hissing sound from be- hind and overhead caused me to glance upwards.