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,
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Library
The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.
There are no known copyright restrictions in
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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.
winter quarters; with charm- f .|
ing exotic warblers and silent
songsters—all off work for the
season. Where nodding bul- :
rush fringes quaking bog, or |
!
oa
Vi
nu |
4
. fs i} Hi
miles of tasselled cane-brakes 4 my
}
border the marsh, there is the ;
apni “ SONGSTERS”
home of infinite feathered ese
amphibians, crakes and rails, of reed-climbers and bush-skulkers,
all for the nonce silent, shy, reclusive.
ff
A \\
BLACKSTART (Ruticilla titys)
Abundant in winter ; retires to the sierra to nest.
Their portraits, roughly caught during hours of patient waiting,
4.0 Unexplored Spain
may be found (some of them) scattered through these chapters.
But the present is not the place for detail.
The land-birds in winter you hardly see, for they “take
cover.”
Diametrically different—in cause and effect—is the case of
wildfowl. These, by the essence of their natures and by their
economic necessities, are always conspicuous, for they inhabit
solely the open spaces of earth—the “spaces” that no longer
exist at home: shallows, wastes, and tidal flats devoid of covert.
Wildfowl, for that reason, have long learnt to discard all attempt
at concealment, to rely for safety upon their own eyesight and
incredible wildness. No illusory idea that security may be
sought in covert abuses their keen and, receptive instincts.
Probably it never did. Nowadays, at any rate, they openly defy
the human race with all its brain-begotten devices. There, in
“ waste places,” wildfowl sit or fly—millions of them—conspicuous
and audible so far as human sense of sight and sound can reach,
and there bid defiance to us all. Much of these wastes are not
(in the cant of a hypocritical age) “ undeveloped,” but rather, as
means exist, incapable of development. Such spectacles of wild
life as these Andalucian marismas to-day present are probably
unsurpassed elsewhere in Europe—or possibly in the world. In
foreground, background, and horizon both earth and sky are filled
with teeming, living multitudes; while the shimmering grey
monotony of the marisma, tessellated with its grey armies of
the Anatidae, is everywhere brightened and adorned by rosy
battalions of flamingoes. And out there, far beyond our visible
horizon, there wander in that watery wilderness the wild camels,
to which we devote a separate chapter.
Flamingoes ignore the limits of continents, and shift their
mobile headquarters between Europe and Africa as the respective
rainfall in either happens to suit their requirements. Hence,
whether by day or night, the sight or sound of gabbling
columns of flamingoes passing through the upper air is a charac-
teristic of these lonely regions, irrespective of season. Cranes also
in marshalled ranks, and storks, continually pass to and fro.
The African coast, of course, lies well within their range of vision
from the start.
Then as winter merges into spring—what time those clanging
crowds of wild-geese and myriad north-bound ducks depart
(1) SAHARAN SAND-DUNES,
(2) TRANSPORT
(3) A CORRAL, OK PINE-WOOD ENCLOSED BY SAND.
THREE Views IN Coro DONANA.
The Coto Dojfiana 4I
—there pours into Andalucia an inrush of African and sub-
tropical bird-forms. The sunlit woodland gleams with brilliant
rollers and golden orioles, while bee-eaters, rivalling the rainbow
in gorgeous hues, poise and dart in the sunshine, and their harsh
“chack, chack,” resounds on every side. Woodchats, spotted
cuckoos, hoopoes, and russet nightjars appear; lovely wheatears
in cream and black adorn the palm-clad plain. With them comes
the deluge—no epitomised summary is possible when, within brief
limits, the whole feathered population of southern Europe is
metamorphosed. The winter half has gone north; its place is
filled by the tropical
inrush aforesaid.
Warblers and waders,
larks, finches, and
fly -catchers, herons,
ibis, ducks, gulls, and
terns—all orders and,
genera pour in pro-
miscuously, defying
cursory analysis.
A single class only
will here be specific-
ally mentioned, and
that because it throws
light on climatic con- GREAT SPOTTED CUCKOO (Oxylophus glandarius)
ditions. Among these
vernal arrivals come certain raptores in countless numbers—all
those which are dependent on reptile and insect food. For even
in sunny Andalucia the larger reptiles and insects hibernate ;
hence their persecutors (including various eagles, buzzards, and
harriers, with kites and kestrels in thousands) are driven to seek
winter-quarters in Africa.
Another phenomenon deserves note. Weeks, nay months,
after this great vernal upturn in bird-life has completed its
revolution, and when the newcomers have already half finished
the duties of incubation, then in May suddenly occurs an utterly
belated little migration quite disconnected from all the rest. This
is the passage, or rather through-transit, of those far-flying
cosmopolites of space that make the whole world their home.
They have been wintering in South Africa and Madagascar, in
42 Unexplored Spain
Australia and New Zealand, and are now returning to their
summer breeding-grounds in farthest Siberia, beyond the Yenisei.
Thus some morning in early May one sees the marismas filled
with godwits and knots, curlew-sandpipers and grey plovers, all
in their glorious summer-plumage. But these only tarry here a
few days. A short week before they had thronged the shores of
the southern hemisphere—far beyond the zodiac of Capricorn. A
week hence and they are at home in the Arctic.
Andalucia possesses a feathered census that approaches 400
species; but of these hardly a score are permanently resident
throughout the year.
“GLOBE-SPANNERS”
Rest twelve hours in Spain on the journey—Australia to Siberia.
Four-footed creatures are less difficult of diagnosis than are
birds. By nature less mobile, they are infinitely less numerous
specifically. Relatively the Spanish census is long, and includes,
locally, quite a number of interesting beasts that are “ lumped
together” as Alimafias—to wit, lynxes, wild-cats, genets, mon-
goose, foxes, otters, badgers, of which we treat separately. The
two chief game-animals of the Coto Dofiana are the red deer and
the wild-boar. These two we here examine from the sportsman’s
point of view as much as from that of the naturalist.
The Spanish red deer are specifically identical with those of
Scotland and the rest of Europe, and are distributed over the
whole southern half of the Iberian Peninsula—say south of a line
drawn through Madrid. Their haunts, as a rule, are restricted to
the mountain-ranges—especially the Sierra Moréna, where they
The Coto Dofiana 43
attain their highest development. That red deer should be found
inhabiting lowlands such as the Coto Domana is wholly ex-
ceptional. In Estremadura, it is true, there are wild recions (in
Badajoz and Caceres) where deer are spread far and wide over
wooded and serub-clad plains, all these, however, being subjacent
to neighbouring sierras, which refuges are available for retreat in
case of need. Nowhere else in Spain, save here in the Coto
Dofiana only, are red deer restricted exclusively to lowlands.
CONFIDENCE
This South-Spanish race (the southernmost of all if we except
the distinct but limited breed that yet maintains a foothold in
North Africa, the Barbary stag, which is white-spotted) differs
from Scotch types in their longer faces and slim necks unadorned
with the hairy “ruff” of harsher climes. Beyond a doubt, when
our species-splitting friends arrive in Spain, they will differentiate
her red deer (and ibex also) in various species or subspecies, each
with a Latin trinomial. Such energies, however, may easily be
44 Unexplored Spain
superfluous, even where not actually mischievous. For practical
purposes there exists but one European species, though it has,
even within Spain, its local varieties; while, further afield,
geographical and climatic divergencies naturally tend to increase.'
We cannot claim for our lowland deer of Donana a high
standard of comparative quality ; they are, in fact, the smallest
race in Spain, almost puny as compared with her mountain breed
—smaller also than the Barbary stag. Clean weights here rarely
exceed 200 Ibs., while a 30-in. head must be accounted beyond
the average. The general type, both of horn and hody, is illus-
trated by various photos and drawings in this book.
Deer-shooting in Spain takes
place in the winter. The rutting
season commences at the end cf
August, terminating early in Octo-
ber, and stags have recovered con-
dition by the end of November.
The habits of red deer being, here
as elsewhere, strictly nocturnal, and
the country densely clad with bush,
it follows that these animals are
seldom seen amove during daylight.
Hence deer-stalking, properly so
called, is not available, nor is ,the
method much esteemed in Spain. In Scotland one may detect
deer, though it be’ but a tip of an antler, when couched in the
tallest heather or fern. Here, where heather grows six or eight
feet in height with a bewildering jumble of other shrubbery of
like proportions, no such view is possible. Hence “ driving” is
in Spain the usual method of deer-shooting, whether in mountain
or lowland.
ABNORMAL CAST ANTLER
(Picked up in Dofana.)
There is, nevertheless, one opportunity of stalking which
(though not regarded with favour) has yet afforded us delightful
mornings, and to which a few lines of description are due. The
plan is based upon cutting-out the deer as they return from their
' No otfence to our scientific friends aforesaid. We recognise their argument and respect
its thoroughness, though regarding it as occasionally misdirected. Possibly in their splendid
zeal they overlook the danger of reducing scientific classification to a mere monopoly
confined to a few score of professors, specialists, and cabinet-naturalists, instead of serving as
an aid and general guide (as is surely its true intention) to thousands of less learned
students. Over-elaboration is apt to beget chaos.
The Coto Dojiana 45
nocturnal pasturages at daybreak. As the last watch of night
wears on towards the dawn, the deer, withdrawing from their
feeding-grounds on open strath or marsh, slowly direct a course
covertwards, lingering here and there to nibble a tempting genista,
or to snatch up a bunch of red bog-grass on their course. We
have reached a favourite glade, often used by deer. It is not yet
light—rather it might be described as nearly dark—when the
splashing of light hoofs through water puts us on the alert. A
few moments suffice to gain a bushy point beyond; whence
presently six or eight nebulous forms emerge from deceitful
gloom. Of course there is not a horn among them, bar a little
yearling, for good stags never come thus in troops, and with all
due caution, so as to avoid alarming
these, we hurry away to try another
likely spot. Time is of the essence
of this business, for light is now
strengthening, and in another half-
hour the deer will all have gained
their coverts and the chance will be
past. Again groups of hinds and
small beasties meet our gaze; but
some distance beyond are a couple of
stags. It is light enough now, by
aid of the glass, to count their points
—only eight apiece, no use. While
yet we watch, a pack of graceful white egrets alight close around
the nearer deer—some dart actively between the grazing animals
picking flies and insects from their legs and stomachs; two
actually perching, cavalier-like, on their withers to search for ticks
—magpies, on occasion, we have observed similarly employed.
The sun’s rim now peers from out the watery wastes in front ;
nothing worth a bullet has. appeared, and our morning’s work
looks as good as lost when my companion, Pepe, detects two
really good stags which, though already within the shelter
of fringing pines, yet linger in a lovely glade, tempted for
fatal minutes by a clump of flowering rosemary. ‘The wind
demands a considerable detour; yet the pair still dally while
we gain the deadly range, and a second later the better of the
two drops amidst the ensnaring blue blossoms. Pepe's half
soliloquising comment precisely interprets the Spanish estimate
46 Unexplored Spain
of stalking :—‘ The first stag I ever saw shot with his head
down!” Other countries, other standards; but there is a ring
of sterling chivalry in it too. The idea conveyed is that the
noble stag should meet his death, only when duly forewarned of
danger and bounding in wild career o’er bush and brake.
Without unduly trespassing on our Spanish friends’ suscepti-
bilities, we have nevertheless enjoyed such mornings as this. To
begin with, that hour of breaking day is ever delicious to spend
afield. Therein one observes to best advantage the wild beasts,
undisturbed and following their secret, solitary lives—one learns
more in that hour than in all the other twenty-three. One seems
almost to associate with deer, so near can the troops of hinds and
small staggies be approached; and, moreover, there may be
afforded the advantage of selecting some splendid head afar, and
thus commencing a stalk which, believe me, does not always
prove easy. Yonder comes a fox, trotting straight in from his
night’s hunting in the distant marisma. Let him come on within
fifty yards, and then give him a bit of a fright—it is a wild goose
he drops as he turns to fly! A single glint of something ruddy
catches the eye; this the glass shows to be a sunray playing on
the pelt of a prowling lynx, hateful of daylight and hurrying
junglewards. Rarely are these nocturnals seen thus, after sun-
up, and not for many seconds will the spectacle last; for no
animal is more intensely habituated to concealment, or hates so
much to move even a few yards in the open.
Following are two or three incidents selected as illustrative
of this matutinal work :—
A really fine stag—already against the glory of the
eastern light, I have counted thirteen points and there may be
more. Half an hour later we have gained a position—not with-
out infinite manceuvres, including a crawl absolutely flat across
forty yards of bog and black mire—a position that in five more
minutes should secure to us that trophy. The five hinds that,
before it was fully light, had been in the Royal company, have
already, long ago, passed away in the scrub on our right, and
give us now no further concern. Never should hinds be thus
lightly regarded! The slowly approaching stag stops to nibble
a golden broom. He is already almost within shot—seconds
must decide his fate—when a triple bark, petulant and defiant,
breaks the silence behind. Those five hinds, sauntering round,
APRIL.
JUNE,
The Coto Dofiana 47
have gone under our wind, and now the landscape is
vacant.
“Hinds only bark at a persona,” remarks Dominguez, as we
turn homewards, ‘“‘never at any other bicho.” The stag knew
that too. But it was a curious way of putting it.
We are too early; it is still pitch-dark; no sign of
dawn beyond a slight opalescence low on the eastern horizon.
Moreover, an icy wind rustles across the waste, and for dreary
minutes we seek shelter, squatting beneath some friendly gorse.
Presently a strange sound—a distinct champing, and close by—
strikes our ears. “Un javato comiendo” =‘‘a boar feeding,”
whispers Dominguez, and creeping a few yards towards an open
strath, we dimly descry a dusky monster. At the moment his
snout is buried deep in the soil, up to the eyes, and the tremendous
muscular power exerted in uprooting bulbs of palmetto arrests
attention even in the quarter-light. Now he stands quiescent,
head up, and the champing is resumed—a rare scene. The
distance is a bare fifteen yards, and all the while my companion
insists on hissing in my ear, “ tiré-lo, tiré-lo” =“ shoot, shoot.”
Presently up goes the boar’s muzzle; straight and steadfastly he
gazes in our direction, but his glance seemed to pass high over
our heads. I don’t think he saw us; yet a consciousness of
danger had got home—in two bounds he wheeled and disappeared,
headlong, amid the bush beyond.
Far and wide the bosky glade is furrowed with sinuous
trenches, and infinite turrets stand erect as where children build
sand-castles on the beach. Last night a troop of wild-pig have
sought here for mole-crickets—small fry, one may think; yet even
worms they don’t despise, for we have seen masses of these reptiles
(some still alive) in the stomach of a newly-shot boar. Follow
the spoor onwards, and where it enters a pine-grove, you notice
splintered cones and scattered seed. Thus wild-beasts are assist-
ing to fulfil nature’s plan, and if you care to advance it another
stage, turn some soil over those overlooked pine-nuts, and some
day forest-monarchs will result to reward another generation.
Such matutinal forays are, however, but an incident. The
main system of dealing with the deer is by driving. For this
purpose both the fragrant solitudes of pine and far-stretched wilds
of bending cistus are mentally mapped out by the forest-guards
48 Unexplored Spain
into definite ‘beats,’ each of which has its own name; though
to a casual visitor (since guns are necessarily placed differently
day by day according to the wind) the actual boundaries may
appear indefinite enough.
On lowlands such as the Coto Dofiana, which is more or less
level and open, the use of far-ranging rifles is necessarily restricted
by considerations of safety. Obviously no shot, on any pretext
whatever, may be fired either into the beat or until the game
has passed clear of and well outside the line of guns. In every
instance, as a gun is placed, the keeper in charge indicates by
lines drawn in the sand or other unmistakable means the limits
within which shooting is absolutely prohibited. The result, it
follows, not only increases the prospective difficulty of the shot,
but gives fuller scope to the instinctive intelligence of the game.
For deer, unlike some winged game, do not, when driven, dash
precipitately straight for illusory safety, but retire slowly and
with extreme circumspection ; all old stags, in particular, fully
anticipate hidden dangers to lie on their line of flight, and
narrowly scrutinise any suspicious feature ahead before taking
risks. The gunner will therefore be wise to occupy the few
minutes that remain available in so arranging both himself and
his post as to be inconspicuous; and also in an accurate survey
of his environment with its probable chances, thereby minimising
the danger of being taken by surprise. The cunning displayed by
an old stag when endeavouring to evade a line of guns at times
approaches the marvellous. Thus, on one occasion, the writer
was warned of the near approach of game by a single “ clink ”—
a noise which deer sometimes make, probably unintentionally,
with the fore-hoof—yet seconds elapsed, and neither sight nor
sound were vouchsafed. Then the slightest quiver of a bough
beneath caught my eye. A big stag with antlers laid flat aback,
and crouching to half his usual height, though going fairly fast,
was slipping, silent and invisible, through thick but low brush-
wood immediately beneath the little hillock whereon I lay. On
examining the spot, the spoor showed that he had passed thus
through openings barely exceeding two feet in height, though he
stood himself forty-six inches at the withers. The feat appeared
impossible.’
1 We have known the spoor of a wounded stag pass beneath strong interlacing branches
so low that, in following, we have had to wriggle under on hands and knees. The spoor
showed there had been no such cervine necessity.
The Coto Dofiana 49
In thick forest or brushwood that limits the view it may be
advisable to sit with back towards the beat, relying on ears to
indicate the approach or movements of game. While sitting
thus, it will occur that you become aware of the arrival of an
animal, or of several animals, immediately behind you. The
natural inclination to look round is strong; but ’twere folly
SUSPICION
to do so—fatal to success. ‘This is the critical moment, when a
few seconds of rigid stillness will be rewarded by a shot in the
open. But that stillness must be statuesque, as of a stone god.
For piercing eyes are instantly studying each bush and bough, and
analysing at close quarters the least symptom of danger ahead.
Should a good stag break fairly near, it 1s advisable to allow
it to pass well away before moving a muscle. For should the
game be prematurely alarmed—say by your missing exactly upon
the firing-line, or otherwise by its detecting your movement of
preparation—that stag will instantly bounce back again into the
E
50 Unexplored Spain
beat. Then, assuming that the sportsman is a tyro, or subject to
“emotions ” or buck-fever, there is danger of his forgetting for one
moment his precise permitted line of fire; in which case a perilous
shot must result. Once allowed to pass well outside, the stag
will usually continue on his course.
In this, as in every form of sport, “soft chances” occasionally
occur. More often, the rifle will be directed at a galloping stag
crashing through bush that conceals him up to the withers; or,
it may be, bounding over inequalities of broken ground or
brushwood, or among timber, at any distance up to 100 yards,
sometimes 150, while, should he have touched a taint in the
wind, his pace will be tremendous.
Although to casual view a plain of level contours this country
is undulated to an extent that deceives a careless eye—the
more accentuated by the monotone of cistus-scrub that appears
so uniform. In reality there traverse the plain glens and gently
graded hollows the less apt to be noticed, inasmuch as the scrub
in moister dell grows higher.
Far through the marish green and still the watercourses sleep.
Inspiring moments are those when—before the beat has
commenced—your eye catches on some far-away skyline the
broad antlers of a stag. This animal has perhaps been on foot
and alert, or maybe has taken the ‘‘ wind” from the group of
beaters wending a way to their points far beyond. For three
seconds the antlers remain stationary, then vanish into some
intervening glen. A glance around shows your next neighbour
still busy completing his shelter—meritorious work if done in
time—and you have strong suspicion that the man beyond will
just now be lighting a cigarette! Such thoughts flash through
one’s mind; the dominant question that fills it is: ‘‘ Where will
that great stag reappear?” But few seconds are needed to
solve it. Perhaps he dashes, harmless, upon the careless, perhaps
upon the slow—lucky for him should either such event befall!
On the other hand, those moments of glorious expectancy may
resolve in a crash of brushwood hard by, in a clinking of cloven
hoofs, and a noble hart with horns aback is bounding past your
own ready post. What proportion, we inwardly inquire, of
the stags that are killed by craftsmen has already, just before,
offered first chance to the careless or the slovenly ?
‘INSPIRING MOMENTS.”
(NEITHER CAUGHT NAPPING.)
The Coto Dofana SI
We may conclude this chapter with an independent impression.
Lying hidden in one of these lonely uestos—writes J. C. C.—ever
induces in me a powerful and sedative sense of contemplation and
reflection, though fully alert all the time. While thus waiting and
watching, I can’t but marvel, first at nature’s wondrous plan of waste—
a scheme here without apparent object or promise of fulfilment. Where
I he the prospect comprises nothing but melancholy and unutterably
silent solitudes of sand, droughty wastes with but at rare intervals some
starveling patch of scant weird shrub destined either to shrivel in summer's
sun or shiver in winter’s winds. But, lying in that environment, one
marvels yet more at the extreme caution displayed by wild animals; one
TOMILLO DE ARENA
ALTABACA (Seryfuluric) Another sand-plant (in spring has a
The starveling shrub that grows in sand. lovely pink bloom like sea-thrift).
has exceptional opportunity of admiring the exquisitive vifts bestowed by
nature upon her ferwe. Here is a young stag coming straight along,
down-wind, ere yet the beat has begun, and in a desolate spot which to
human sense could betray absolutely no feature or taint of danger.
Suddenly he becomes rigid, arrested in mid-career—snitting at a pure
untainted air, yet conscious somehow of something wrong somewhere !
It is a miraculous gift, though one cannot but feel grateful that we
humans are devoid of senses that ever keep nerves in highest tension.
Here is a sketch of a non-shootable stag thus suddenly statuetted thirty
yards from me snugly hidden well down-wind, and so intensely interested
that something else (a very old pal) well-nigh escaped notice.
That something was our good friend Reynard—Zorro they style him
out here—whose proverbial cunning exceeds all other cunnings. He has
52 Unexplored Spain
come down to my track and there stopped dead, expressing in every
detail the very essence of doubly-distilled subtlety and craft. At those
footprints he halts, sniffs the wind, curls his brush dubiously—as a cat
will do when pleased—but not sure yet of his next move. One second’s
consideration decides him and it is executed at once—he is off like a
gust of wind. But a Paradox ball at easy range in the open broke a
“WHAT'S THIS?”
hind-leg, and it was curious to note his evolutions—he, poor fellow,
not realising what had occurred, flung himself round and round in
rapid eyrations, the while biting at his own hind-leg. Needless to
say not an instant passed ere a second ball terminated his sufferings.
To observe the beautiful traits in the habits of wild beasts is to me quite
as great a joy as adding them to my score and immensely augments
the enjoyment of a big-game drive.
The Coto Dofiana 53
RED DEER HEADS—COTO DONANA.
This list is neither comprehensive nor consecutive, but merely a record of such
good and typical heads as we happened to have within reach.
For Table of Heads of Mountain-Deer see Chapter on Sierra Moréna.
Pacer Widest. |
ength. ircum- i
(In Bae ) = ace. Points. Remarks.
Tips. | Inside.
W. LB. 32} Brak Nl oops |) Se
Do. 31 430} | 328 | ... ats 10 | No bez.
P. Garvey 31 28 Sd 48 15
Col. Brymer 304+ 28 27 23 44 10 | No bez.
Col. Echagtie 304+ 284 | 20 18 4h 14 | 4 on each top.
Villa-Marta, Mar- | 2934293 | 31} | ... 4h 13 | 4 on each top, but
quis 1 bez wanting.
Segovia, Gonzalo! | 293+ 294 | 393 | ... 54 10 | No bez.
Arién, Duke of 29 +28 30 ais oe 14
A.C. 29 +281 | 25 ce 5 12
Do. 28h BOE oy | SE. |) ae
P. N. Gonzalez 284 25 22 5 12
Arién, Duke of 284 23 214 4} 10 | No bez.
F. J. Mitchell 28 +27 30} | ... ben 14 4 on each top.
A.C. 27 +267 | 24 | 24 4} 10
Do. : 254 284 | 24 43, | 11 | At British Museum.
Williams, Alex. 254 27% | 234) 44 12
B. FB. . | 253424 | 274 | 924] 44 | 12
De Bunsen, Sir M. | 254+ 25 27 ee 44 il
B. F. B. 24442944 | 27h |... 44 12
JO. @, 23 293 | 224 | 44 | 12
B. F. B. 224 ai4}19 | 44 | 12
1 Weight, clean, two days killed, 78 kilos=180 lbs.
Ordinary Royals (by which we mean full-grown stags in their
first prime) average 24 or 25 inches in length of horn. Heads of
26 to 28 inches belong to rather older beasts which have continued
to improve. Anything beyond the latter measurement is quite
exceptional, and is often due, not so much to fair straight length
of the main beam as to an abnormal development of one of the
top tines—usually directed backwards. There are, however,
included in our records two or three examples of long straight
heads which fairly exceed the 30-inch length.
CHAPTER V
ANDALUCIA AND ITS BIG GAME
STILL-HUNTING (RED DEER)
THE line of least resistance represents twentieth-century ideals—
maximum results for the minimum of labour or technical skill.
In the field of sport, wherever available, universal “ driving” super-
sedes the arts of earlier venery—the pride of past generations.
In Spain, more leisurely while no less dignified, there survive
in sport, as in other matters, practices more consonant with the
dash and chivalry popularly ascribed to her national character.
Such, for example, is the attack, single-handed, on bear or boar
with cold steel—dé arma blanca, in Castilian phrase. Here we
purpose describing the system of ‘ Still-hunting” (Fastreando) as
practised in Andalucia with a skill that equals the best of the
American “‘ Red Indian,” and is only surpassed, within our experi-
ence, by Somalis and Wandorobo savages in East Africa.
Before day-dawn we are away with our two trackers. Maybe
it is a lucky morning, and as the first streaks of light illumine
the wastes, they reveal to our gaze a first-rate stag. In that case
the venture is vastly simplified. It is merely necessary to allow
time for the stag to reach his lie-up, and the spoor can be followed
at once. But barring such exceptional fortune, it is necessary to
find, or rather to select from amidst infinity of tracks crossing
and recrossing hither and thither in bewildering profusion the
trail of such a master-beast as clearly is worthy the labour of
a long day’s pursuit. Twice and again we follow a spoor for
100 yards or more over difficult ground before finally deciding
that its owner is not up to our standard of quality, and the
interrupted search is resumed. Once found, there is rarely room
for mistake with a really big spoor. The breadth of heel, the
length and deep-cut prints of the cloven toes attest both weight
o4
Andalucia and its Big Game 55
and quality. The ground is open, soft, and easy. The big new
track, with its spurts of forward-projected sand, are visible yards
ahead. We follow almost at a run—how simple it seems! But
not for long. Soon comes check No. 1. A dozen other deer
have followed on the same line, and the original trail is
obliterated. The troop leads on into a region of boundless bush,
shoulder-high, where the ground is harder and the trackers spread
out to right and left, backing each other with silent signals.
Their skill and patience fascinate; but it is to me, in the
centre, that after a long hour's scrutiny, falls the satisfaction of
rediscovering that big track where it diverges alone on the left.
Half a mile beyond, our erratic friend has passed through water.
For a space a broken reed here or displaced lilies there help us
forward; then the deepening water, all open, bears no trace.
The opposite shore, moreover, is fringed by a 200-yard belt of
bulrush and ten-foot canes, and beyond all that lies heavy jungle.
You give it up? Admittedly these are no lines of least
resistance, but we will cut the unpopular part as short as may be
and merely add that it was high noon ere, after three hours’ work
—puzzling out problems and paradoxes, now following a false
clue, anon recovering the true one—that at last the big spoor on
dry land once more rejoiced our sight. More than that, it now
bears evidence—to eyes that can read—that our stag is
approaching his selected stronghold. He goes slowly. Here he
has stopped to survey his rear—there he has lingered to nibble
a genista, and the spoor zigzags to and fro. Now it turns at
sharp angle, following a cheek-wind, and a suggestive grove of
cork-oaks embedded in heavy bush lies ahead. One hunter
opines the stag lies up here : the other doubts. No half-measures
suffice. We turn down-wind, detouring to reach the main outlet
(salida) to leeward; here I remain hidden, while my companions,
separating on right and left, proceed to encircle the mancha.
Two hinds break hard by, and presently Juan returns with word
that the stag has passed through the covert—better still, that a
second big beast has joined the first, and that the double spoor,
moving dead-slow and three-quarters up wind, proceeds due
north. Another mile and then right ahead lies heavy covert, but
long and straggling, and the halting trail indicates this as a
certain find.
The strategic position is simple, but tactics, for a single gun,
56 Unexplored Spain
leave endless scope for decision. Our first rule in all such cases
is to get close in, risk what it may. Hence, while my com-
panions separated, as before, to encircle the covert from right and
left, the writer crept forward yard by yard till a fairly broad and
convenient open suggested the final stand.
Not ten minutes had elapsed, nor had asound reached my ears,
when as by magic the figure of a majestic stag filled a glade on
the left—what a picture, as with head erect he daintily picked his
unconscious way! Clearly he suspected nothing here; but,
having got sense, sight, or scent of Juan far beyond, was astutely
moving away, with intelligent anticipation, to safer retreat. The
shot was of the simplest, and merely black antlers crowned with
triple ivory tips marked the fatal point among deep green rushes.
Now when two big stags fraternise, as they frequently do, it
usually happens that, when pressed, both animals will finally seek
the same exit, even though a shot has already been fired there.
I had accordingly instructed the keepers that in the event of my
firing, each should discharge his gun in the air, at the same time
loosing one dog. The expected shots now rang out, presently
followed by a crashing in the brushwood. This proved to be
caused by a handful of hinds with, alas! the loose dog baying at
their heels. The adverse odds had fallen to zero, till Juan,
divining what had occurred, fired again and slipt the other dog.
Anxious minutes slowly passed while my two biped sleuth-hounds
on the other side gradually, yard by yard, made good their
advance ; for the wit and wiles, the practised cunning of an old
stag when thus cornered, need every scrap of our human skill to
out-general, and nothing to spare at that. But that skill was not
at fault to-day, and in the thick of the mancha,
Manuel presently “jumped” the recusant hart
from almost beneath his feet, and his view-
halloa reached expectant ears.
Then, within a few yards of the spot where
No. 1 had silently appeared, out bounced No. 2,
but in widely different style. In huge bounds,
with head and neck horizontal and antlers laid
flat aback, he covered the open like a racer. The
first shot got in too far back, but the second
went right, and the two friends lay not divided in death. Both
were coronados (triple-crowned), indeed the second carried
Andalucia and its Big Game 57
four-on-top in double pairs as sketched—a not uncommon
formation—but being very old, lacked bez tines.
Very nearly five hours had elapsed since we had first struck
the spoor, five hours of concentrated attention, crowned by the
final assertion of human ‘‘ dominion.” And during these moments
of permissible expansion, there was impressed on our minds the
fact that such success involves mastery of a difficult craft.
“TAKING THE WIND”
(A stag, on recognising human scent, will give a bound as though a knife had been
plunged into his heart.)
Illustrative of how astutely a cornered stag will exploit every
device and avenue of escape, an excellent instance is given In
Wild Spain, p. 434.
Skilled deer-driving is a different undertaking from the force
majeure by which pheasants and such-like game may be pushed
over a line of guns. For deer do not act on timid impulse, but
on practical instinct. Scent is their first safeguard when danger
58 Unexplored Spain
threatens and their natural flight is up-wind. But as it is
obviously impossible to place guns to windward, the operation
resolves itself into moving the game—dead against its instinct
and set inclination —down-wind, or at least on a “ half-wind.”
The latter is easier as an operation, but less effective in result :
since the guns must be posted in echelon—otherwise each “ gives
the wind” to his next neighbour below. Consequently the
firing-zone of each is greatly circumscribed.
In practice, therefore, the game has to be moved or cajoled—
it can hardly be said to be “ driven ”—into going, at least so
far, down-wind by skilled handling of the driving-line and by
intelligent co-operation on the part of each individual driver. In
the great mountain-drives of the sierras (elsewhere described)
packs of hounds, being carefully trained, perform infinite service.
Always under control of their huntsman, they systematically
search out thickets impenetrable to man and push all game
forward. In the Coto Dofiana, our scratch-pack of podencos and
monerels of every degree, run riot unchecked at hind, hare, or
rabbit, giving tongue in all directions at once, and probably do as
much harm as good.
Our mounted keepers, however, expert in divining afar the
yet unformed designs of the game ahead, are quick to counter
each move by a feint or demonstration behind; and when
desirable, to forestall attempted escape by resolute riding. The
Spanish are a nation of horsemen, and a fine sight it is to see
these wild guardas galloping helter-skelter through scrub that
reaches the saddle—especially the way they ride down a wounded
stag or boar with the garrocha—a long wooden lance.
Despite it all, however, many stags break back. Riding
with the beaters it is instructive to watch the manceuvres of
an old stag as, sinking from sight, he couches among quite low
scrub on some hillock, or stands statuesque with horns aback
hiding behind a clump of tall tree-heaths—alert all the while,
stealthily to shift his position as yapping podencos on one side or
the other may suggest—and watching each opportunity to evade
the encompassing danger. Now a stretch of denser jungle obstructs
the advancing line. The beaters are forced apart to pass it, and
a gap or two yawns in the attack. Instantly that introspective
wild beast realises his advantage—he springs to sight, ignores
Spanish expletives that scorch the scrub, and in giant bounds
Andalucia and its Big Game 59
breaks back in the very face of encircling foes. Within thirty
seconds he has regained security amid leagues of untrodden wilds.
Some years ago we tried the plan of placing one (or two)
guns with the driving-line; but the experiment proved im-
practicable. Obviously only the coolest and most reliable men
could be trusted in an essay which otherwise involved danger.
Unfortunately—and it is but human nature—every one considers
himself equally cool and reliable. Hence the breakdown and
abandonment of the practice. For the long line of beaters,
struggling at different points through obstacles of varying
difficulty, necessarily loses precise formation ; it becomes more
or less broken and scattered. Here and there a man may get
“stuck” and left a hundred yards behind the general advance.
The risk in “firmg back” is obvious. The writer remembers
being one of two guns with the beaters, when a pair of stags,
jumping up close ahead, bolted straight back, passing almost
within arm’s length. As the second carried a fairly good head, I
dismounted and shot it, but was then horrified to discover that
my companion-gun had (contrary to all rules) gone back in
that very direction to shoot a woodcock !
Driving Bia GAME
On “driving” as such we do not propose to enlarge. The
system is simple though the practice is subject to variation.
On the gently undulated levels of Dofana, for example, the
latter (as already indicated) is widely differentiated from the
systems practised in mountainous countries—whether in Scotland
or the Spanish sierras—where shots can safely be accepted at
incoming or at passing game. Guns are there protected from
danger by intervening ridges, crags, and piled-up rocks that
flank each “pass.” Here the game must be left to pass well
through and outside the line of guns before a shot is permissible.
Our “drives,” whether in forest or scrub, seldom exceed a
couple of miles in extent; but in wild regions where isolated
patches of covert are scattered, inset amid wastes of sand, the
area may be extended to half a day’sride. These long scrambling
drives gain enhanced interest to a naturalist in precisely inverse
ratio with their probability of success.
In a big-game drive the first animals to come forward are,
60 Unexplored Spain
as a rule, foxes and lynxes—creatures which move on impulse,
and instantly quit a zone where danger threatens. Both, how-
ever, will certainly pass unseen should there be any scrub to
conceal their retreat. The lynx especially is adept at utilising
cover, however slight. Should open patches or sandy glades
occur among the bush, foxes will be viewed bundling along, to
all appearance quite carelessly. Here in Spain foxes are merely
“vermin”; but it is a mistake to shoot them, owing to the risk
of thereby turning back better game. Neither lynx nor fox, by
the way, are accounted caza mayor unless killed with a bullet.
SYLVIA MELANOCEPHALA
(Sardinian warbler ; conspicuous by its strong colour-contrasts. )
As elsewhere mentioned, there is always a_ considerable
possibility at the earlier period of a “drive” (and even before
the operation has actually commenced) of some old and highly
experienced stag attempting to slip through the line in the
calculated hope (which is often well founded) that he will thereby
take most of the guns by surprise and so escape unshot at.
Never be unready.
Although in “driving,” that element of ceaseless personal
effort, observation and self-reliance that characterise stalking,
still-hunting, or spooring, is necessarily reduced, yet it is by
no means eliminated. Nor are there lacking compensating
charms in those hours of silent expectancy spent in the solitude
of jungle or amid the aromatic fragrance of pine-forest. Every
Andalucia and its Big Game 61
sense is held in tension to mark and measure each sign or sound :
‘tis but the fall of a pine-cone that has caught your ear, but it
might easily have been a single footfall of game. The wild-life
of the wilderness pursues its daily course around unconscious of
a concealed intruder in its midst. Overhead, busy hawfinches
wrestle with ripening cones, swinging in gymnastic attitude.
These are silent. You
have first become aware
of their presence by a
shower of scales gently
fluttering down upon the
shrubbery of genista
and rosemary alongside,
amidst the depths of
which lovely French-grey
warblers with jet-black
skull-caps (Sylvia
melanocephala) pursue
insect-prey with furious
energy-—dashing into the
tangle of stems reckless
of damage to tender
plumes. There are other
bush - skulkers infinitely
more reclusive than these
—some indeed whose
mere existence one could
never hope to verify (in
winter) save by patience and these hours of silent watching.
Such are the Fantail, Cetti’s, and Dartford warblers, while
among sedge and cane-brake alert reed-climbers beguile and
delight these spells of waiting. Soldier-ants and horned beetles
with laborious gait, but obvious fixity of purpose, pursue
their even way, surmounting all obstruction—such as boot or
cartridge-bag. Earth and air alike are instinct with humble life.
To a northerner it is hard to believe that this is mid-winter,
when aimost every tree remains leaf-clad, the brushwood green
and flower-spangled. Arbutus, rosemary, and tree-heath are
already in bloom, while bees buzz in shoulder-high heather and
suck honey from its tricoloured blossoms — purple, pink, and
REED-CLIMBERS
62 Un explored Spain
violet. Strange diptera and winged creatures of many sorts and
sizes, from gnat and midge to savage dragon-flies, rustle and
drone in one’s ear or poise on iridescent wing in the sunlight,
and the hateful hiss of the mosquito mingles with the insect-
melody. Over each open flower of rock-rose or cistus hovers the
humming-bird hawk-moth with, more rarely, one of the larger
sphinxes (8. convolvulz), each with long proboscis inserted deep
in tender calyx. Not even the butterflies are entirely absent.
We have noticed gorgeous species at Christmas time, including
clouded yellows, painted lady and red admiral, southern wood-
argus, Bath white, Lycaena telicanus, Thiis polyxena, Megaera,
and many more. On the warm sand at midday bask pretty
green and spotted
lizards,’ apparently
asleep, but alert to
dart off on slightest
alarm, disappearing
like a thought in
some crevice of the
cistus stems.
Hard by a winter-
wandering hoopoe
struts in an open
glade, prodding the
earth with curved bill and crest laid back like a “claw-
hammer”; from a tall cistus-spray the southern grey shrike
mumbles his harsh soliloquy, and chattering magpies everywhere
surmount the evergreen bush. Where the warm sunshine
induces untimely ripening of the tamarisk, some brightly
coloured birds flicker around pecking at the buds. They appear
to be chaffinches, but a glance through the glass identifies
them as bramblings—arctic migrants that we have shot here in
midwinter with full black heads—in “ breeding-plumage” as
some call it, though it is merely the result of the wearing-away
of the original grey fringe to each feather, thus exposing the
glossy violet-black bases.
Birds, as a broad rule, possess no “ breeding-plumage.” They
only renew their dress once a year, in the autumn, and breed the
GREAT GREY SHRIKE (Lanius meridionalis)
1 There are sand-lizards identical in colour with the sand itself—pale yellow or drab,
adorned with wavy black lines closely resembling the wind-waves on the sand.
Andalucia and its Big Game 63
following spring in the worn and ragged plumes. It’s not poetic,
but the fact.' This is not the place to enumerate all the char-
acteristic forms of bird-life, and only one other shall be mentioned,
chiefly because the incident occurred the day we drafted this
chapter. One hears behind the rustle of strong wings, and there
passes overhead in dipping, undulated fight a green woodpecker
of the Spanish species, Gecinus sharpei. With a regular thud
SPANISH GREEN WOODPECKER (Cecinus shapes)
(1) Alighting. (2) Calling.
he alights on the rough bark of a cork-oak in front, clings in
rigid aplomb while surveying the spot for any sign of danger,
then projects upwards a snake-like neck and with vertical beak
gives forth a series of maniacal shrieks that resound through the
silences.” By all means watch and study every phase of wild-
1 There are, of course, exceptions, such as golden plovers, rulls, dunlin, godwits, knots,
that do assume a vernal dress.
2 This, the southernmost form of the green woodpecker, has much the most ringing voice.
The closely allied northern form, (7. canus, that one lears constantly in Norway, utters but
a sharp monosylabic note. A second curious fact may here be mentioned: that the
great grey shrike, just named, Lunius meridional is, is resident in Spain throughout the year,
while the closely allied and almost identical ZL. exeubitor breeds exclusively in the far north
64 Unexplored Spain
life around you—the habit will leave green memories when the
keener zest for bigger game skall
have dimmed—but never be caught
napping, or let a silent stag pass
by while your whole attention is
concentrated on a tarantula!
By way ofillustrating the practice
of “ driving,” we annex three or four
typical instances :—
A TARANTULA
Las Ancosturas, February 5,
1907.—The writer's post was in a green glade surrounded by
pine-forest. A heavy rush behind was succeeded (as anticipated)
by the appearance of a big troop of hinds followed by two small
staggies. A considerable distance behind these came a single
good stag, and already the sights had covered his shoulder, when
from the corner of an eye a second, with far finer head, flashed
into the picture, going hard, and I decided to change beasts. It
was, however, too late. Half automatically, while eyes wandered,
fingers had closed on trigger. At the shot the better stag
bounded off with great uneven strides through the timber,
offering but an uncertain mark. Both animals, however, were
recovered. The first, an eleven-pointer, lay dead at the exact
spot; the second was brought to bay within 300 yards, a
fine royal.
Los Novarros, January 9, 19038.—My post was among a
grove of pine-saplings in a lovely open plain surrounded by
forest. Two good stags trotted past, full broadside, at 80 yards.
The first dropped in a heap, as though pole-axed, the second
receiving a ball that clearly indicated a kill. While reloading,
noticed with surprise that No. 1 had regained his legs and was
off at speed. A third bullet struck behind; but it was not till
two hours later, after blood-spooring for half a league, that we
recovered our game. The first shot had struck a horn (at
junction of trez tine) cutting it clean in two. This had moment-
arily stunned the animal, but the effect had passed off within
(chiefly within the Arctic) and only descends to England in winter. Besides the harsh note
mentioned above, the southern shrike, in spring, utters 4 piping whistle not unlike a
golden plover. ;
Andalucia and its Big Game 65
ten seconds. Both were ten-pointers, with strong black horns,
ivory-tipped. During that afternoon I got a big boar at Maé-
Corra; and B., who had set out at 4 A.M., twenty-three geese
at the Cardo-Inchal.
Far Norra, January 31, 1907.—First beat by the “ Eagles’
Nest” (in the biggest cork-oak we ever saw, the imperial bird
soaring off as we rode up). Brushwood everywhere tall and
dense, giving no view. On placing me the keeper remarked,
“ By this little glade (canuto) deer must break, but amidst such
jungle will need un tiro de merito!” Four stags broke, two
were missed, but one secured—seven points on one horn, the
other broken. So dense is the bush here that a lynx ran almost
over the writer's post, yet had vanished from sight ere gun could
be brought to shoulder. In the next beat, La Querencia del
Macho (again all dense bush), B. shot two really grand companion
stags, but again one of these had a broken horn. This animal
while at bay so injured the spine of one of our dogs that it had
to be killed two days later.’ A third beat added one more big
stag, and the day’s result—four stags with only two “heads ”—
is so curious that we give the detail :—
Length. | Breadth. | Points.
W. EB? 23h” | (One horn) | 7 x 2 |
W. J. B. (No. 1) 28" | Do. | 6x2 |
W. J. B. (No. 2) | 95" * 25" | 25" 7x6=13 |
A.C | 26” % 24” | 204” | 6x5=11
Amidst forest or in dense jungle (such as last described)
where no distant view is possible, it is usually advisable to watch
outwards—that is, with back towards the beat, relying on ears
+ This is only the second instance in thirty or forty years of 1 wounded or ‘‘bayed”
stag killing a dog. In the Culata del Faro, we remember, many years ago, a stag shol
through the lungs, and which was brought to bay close behind the writer's post, tossing
a podenco clean over its head, and so injuring it that the dog had to be destroyed at once.
2 The initials are those of our late frien! Colonel Brymer of Ilsington, Dorset, formerly
M.P. for that county, and who was a frequent visitor to Spain, where, alas! his death
occurred while we write this chapter (May 1909). A unique exploit of the Colonel’s during
his last shooting-trip may fitly be recorded. On February 5, 1909, at the Culata del
Faginado, four big stags broke in a clump past his post on a pine-crowned ridge in -
forest. Two he dropped right and left ; then reloading one barrel, killed » third ere the
survivors had vanished from sight. These three stags carried thirty-four points, the best
head taping 30} inches by 27 inches in width, and 43 inches basal oer
66 Unexplored Spain
to give notice of the movements of game within. But in (more
or less) open country where a view, oneself unseen, can be
obtained afar, the situation is modified. The following is an
example :—
CorraLt Quemapo, February 1, 1909.—The authors occupied
the two outmost posts on a high sand-ridge which commanded an
introspect far away into the heart of the covert. Already before
the distant signal had announced that the converging lines of
beaters had joined, suddenly an apparition showed up. Some
300 yards away a low pine-clad ridge traversed the forest horizon,
and in that moment the shadows beneath became, as by magic,
illumined by an inspiring spectacle—the tracery of great spreading
antlers surmounting the sunlit grey face and neck of a glorious
stag. For twenty seconds the apparition (and we) remained
statuesque as cast in bronze. Then, with the suddenness and
silence of a shifting shadow, the deep shade was vacant once
more. The stag had retired. It boots not to recall those agonies
of self-reproach that gnawed one’s very being. Suffice it, they
were undeserved; for five or six minutes later that stag re-
appeared, leisurely cantering forward. Clearly no specific sign
or suspicion of danger ahead had struck his mind or dictated
that retirement. But his course was now, by mere chance and
uncalculated cunning, 300 yards outside the sphere of your
humble servants, the authors. That stag was now about to
offer a chance to gun No. 3, instead of, as originally, to Nos.
1 and 2. Eagerly we both watched his course, now halting
on some ridge to reconnoitre, gaze shifting, and ears deflecting
hither and thither, anon making good another stage towards
the goal of escape. A long shallow canuto (hollow) concealed
his bulk from view, but we now saw by the bunchy “show”
on top that this was a prize of no mean merit. Then came
the climax. Rising the slope which ended the canuto, in an
instant the stag stopped, petrified. Straight on in front of
him, not 100 yards ahead, lay No. 3 gun, and the fatal fact
had been discovered. It may have been an untimely movement,
perhaps a glint of sunray on exposed gun-barrel, or merely the
outline of a cap three inches too high—anyway the ambush had
been detected, and now the stag swung at right angles and
sought in giant bounds to pass behind No. 2. It was a long
Andalucia and its Big Game 67
shot, very fast, and intercepted by intervening trees and bush
—the second barrel directed merely at a vanishing stern. Yet
such was our confidence in the aim—in both aims—that not even
the subsequent sight of our antlered friend jauntily cantering
away down the long stretch of Los Tendidos impaired by one
iota its self-assurance. For a mile and more we followed that
bloodless spoor, far beyond the pomt whereat the keeper's solemn
verdict had been pronounced, “No lleva nida—that stag goes
scot-free.” As usual, that verdict was correct.
An incident worth note had occurred meanwhile. On the
extreme left of our line, a mile away, two stags out of four that
broke across the sand-wastes had been killed; and these, while
we yet remained on the scene (though a trifle delayed by
fruitless spooring) had already been attacked and torn open by a
descending swarm of vultures. That, in Africa, is a daily
experience, but never, before or since, have we witnessed such
unseemly voracity in Europe.
68 Unexplored Spain
Masapa Reat.—This is the one lowland covert where shots
are permissible at incoming game. Being flanked on the west
by gigantic sand-dunes, the guns (under certain conditions)
may be lined out a couple of miles away, along the outskirts of
the next nearest covert—the idea being to take the stags as
they canter across the intervening dunes. The conditions
referred to are (1) a straight east wind, and (2) reliable guns.
Obviously the element of danger under this plan is vastly
increased, and as the keepers are responsible for any accident,
they are reluctant to execute the drive thus save only when
their confidence in the guns is complete.t A careless man on a
grouse-drive is dangerous enough; but here, with rifle-bullets, a
reckless shot may spell death. The “in-drive,” nevertheless, is
both curious and interesting. A spectacle one does not forget is
afforded when the far-away skyline of dazzling sand is suddenly
surmounted by spreading antlers, and some great hart, perhaps
a dozen of them, come trotting all unconscious directly towards
the eager eyes watching and waiting. The effect of a shot
under these conditions is frequently to turn the game off at
right angles. The deer then hold a course parallel with the
covert-side, thus running the gauntlet of several guns, and
the question of “first blood” may become a moot point—
easily determined, however, by reference to the spoor. Boar
naturally are averse to take such open ground; but when
severely pressed, we have on occasion seen them scurrying
across these Saharan sands, a singular sight under the
midday sun.
To introspective minds two points may have showed up
in these rough outline illustrations. First, that the best stags
are ever the earliest amove when danger threatens. These not
seldom escape ere a slovenly gunner is aware that the beat
has begun. The moral is clear. Secondly, as these bigger
and older beasts exhibit fraternal tendencies, it follows that a
first chance (whether availed or bungled) need not necessarily
be the last.
Besides deer, it is quite usual that wild-boar, as well as
lynxes and other minor animals, come forward on _ these
“drives.” The divergent nature of pig, however, renders a
1 Not a single accident, great or small, has occurred during the authors’ long tenure of
the Coto Dofiana.
Andalucia and its Big Game 69
more specialised system advisable when wild-boar only are
the objective. For whereas the aboriginal stage seeking a
“lie-up” wherein to pass the daylight hours was satisfied
by any sequestered spot that afforded shelter and shade from
the sun, that was never the case with the jungle-loving boar.
To the stag strong jungle and heavy brushwood were ever
abhorrent, handicapping his light build and branching antlers.
Clumps of tall reed-grass or three-foot rushes, a patch of cistus
or rosemary, amply fulfilled his diurnal ideals and requirements.
Nowadays, it is true, the expanded sense of danger, the increasing
pressure of modern life—even cervine life—force him to select
strongholds which offer creater security though less convenience.
The wild-boar, on the reverse, with lower carriage and pachy-
dermatous hide, instinctively seeks the very heaviest jungle
within his radius—the more densely briar-matted and impene-
trable the better he loves it.
Many such holts—some of them may be but a few yards in
extent—are necessarily passed untried both hy dogs and meu
when engaged in “driving ” extended areas, sometimes miles
of consecutive forest and covert. The somnolent boar hears
the passing tumult, lifts a erisly head, grunts an angry soliloquy,
and goes to sleep again, secure. Another day you have returned
expressly to pay specific attention to him. In brief space
he has diagnosed the difference in attack. Instantly that boar
is alert, ready to repel or scatter the enemy, come who may, on
two lews or four.
HOOPOES
On the lawn at Jerez, Mareh 19, 1910.
CHAPTER VI
ANDALUCIA AND ITS BIG GAME (Continued)
WILD-BOAR
From one’s earliest days the wild-boar has been invested with
a sort of halo of romance, identified in youthful mind with
grim courage and brute strength. Perhaps his grisly front,
the-vicious bloodshot eyes, savage snorts, and generally malignant
demeanour, lend substance to such idea. But even among adults
there exists in the popular mind a strange mixture of mis-
conception as between big game and dangerous game—to
hundreds the terms are synonymous. ‘Thus a lady, inspecting
our trophies, exclaimed, “Oh, Mr. , aren’t these beasts very
treacherous?” which almost provoked the reply, ‘You see, we
are even more treacherous !”
In sober truth, nevertheless, a big old boar when held up
at bay, or charging in headlong rushes upon the dogs, his
wicked eyes flashing fire, and foam flying from his jaws as tushes
clash and champ, presents as pretty a picture of brute-fury and
pluck as even a world-hunter may wish to enjoy.
Yet among hundreds of boars that we have killed or seen
killed (though dogs are caught continually, and occasionally a
horse), there has never occurred a serious accident to the hunter,
and only a few narrow escapes.
As an example of the latter: the keeper, while “ placing” the
writer among bush-clad dunes outside the Mancha of Majada
Real, mentioned that a very big boar often frequented some
heavy rush-beds on my front. ‘Should the dogs give tongue
to pig at that point, your Excellency will at once run in to the
function.” Such were his instructions.
At the point indicated the dogs bayed unmistakably, and
seizing a light single carbine, 303 (as there was a stretch of heavy
70
Andalucia and its Big Game 71
sand to cover) I ran in. Arriving at the covert and already
close up to the music, suddenly the ‘ bay” broke, and I felt the
bitter annoyance of being twenty seconds too slow. I had
entered by a narrow game-path, and was still hurrying up this
when I met the flying boar face to face. By chance he had
selected the same track for his retreat! As we both were
moving, and certainly not six yards apart, there was barely
ROOM FOR TWO
time to pull off the carbine in the boar’s face and throw myself
back against the wall of matted jungle on my left. Next
moment the grizzly head and curving ivories flashed past within
six inches of my nose! The spring he had given carried the
boar a yard past me, and there he stopped, stern-on, champing
and grunting, both tushes visible—I could see them in horrid
projection, on either side of the snout! I had brought the
empty carbine to the “carry,” so as to use it hayonet-wise,
to ward the brute off my legs; but he remained stolidly where
72 Unexplored Spain
he had stopped, and, as may be imagined, I stood stolid too.
As it proved, the bullet, entering top of shoulder, had traversed
the vitals—hence the cessation of hostilities. A few moments
later the arrival of the dogs terminated an untoward interval.
On another occasion at the Veta de las Conchas, amidst the
lovely pinales, just as the beat was concluded, there dashed
from a small thicket a troop of a dozen pig, making direct for
the solitary pine behind which the writer held guard. Passing
full broadside, at thirty yards the biggest dropped dead on the
sand, and, just as the troop disappeared in a donga, a second, it
seemed, was knocked over. On the beaters approaching I
walked across to see, and there, in the hollow, lay the second
pig apparently dead enough. Having picked up my field-glasses,
cartridge-pouch, etce., I stood close by awaiting the keeper’s
arrival. Three or four dogs, however, following on the spoor,
arrived first; and on their worrying the deceased, it at once
sprang to its feet, gazed for one instant, and charged direct.
Never have I seen an animal cover twenty yards more quickly !
Dropping the handful of chismes aforesaid, I pulled off an
unaimed cartridge in my assailant’s face and a lucky bullet
struck rather below the eyes. This is not a dead shot, but the
shock at that short distance proved sufficient.
An amusing incident, not dissimilar, occurred at Salavar.
A youthful sportsman was approaching a boar which had fallen
and lay apparently dead, when it, too, suddenly sprang up and
charged. Our friend turned and fled; but, tripping over a
fallen branch, fell headlong amidst the green rushes. There,
face-downwards, he lay, preferring, as he explained later, “to
receive his wound behind rather than have his face messed about
by a boar!” Luckily the animal, on losing sight of its flying
foe, pulled up and stood, grunting surprise and disapproval.
A similar experience befell King Alfonso XIII. in this
Mancha of Salavar, December 29, 1909. We need not tell
English readers that His Majesty proved equal to this, as to
every occasion, and dropped his adversary at arm’s length.
When one reads (as we do) descriptions of big-game hunting,
a recurring expression gives pause—that of “charging.” A
recent discussion in a sporting paper turned on the question
of “the best weapon for a charging boar.” Now such a thing
as a ‘charging boar” has never, in a long experience, occurred
Andalucia and its Big Game 73
to the authors—that is, a boar chargine deliberately, and of its
own initiative, upon human beings; and we do not believe in the
possibility of such an event. Of course should a boar (or any
other savage animal) be disabled, or in a corner, that is a different
a wild-boar will fight, and right gallantly too.
The nearest approach to a “charge” (though it wasn’t one
really) occurred at the Rincon de los Carrizos. Towards the end
of the beat the dogs ran a pig, and, seeing it was a big one, the
writer followed, and after a spin of 300 yards overtook the
boar at bay in a deep water-hole. The place was all overhung
with heavy foliage
and thick pines
above, giving very
poor heht. Though
the boar’s snout
pointed straight
towards me about
ten yards away, |
imagined (wrongly) g aN)
that his body stood a if 8 f F
at an angle—about = itt
one-third broadside: i Pe —-
hence the bullet | iain i
(aimed past the ear), nu ie
splashed harmlessly
in the water, and
next moment the pig was coming straight as a die, apparently
meaning mischief. When within five yards, however, he
jinked sharply to right, passing full broadside, when I killed
him d-boca-jarro, as the phrase runs, “at the mouth of the
spout.”
That idea of “charging at large” is so splendidly romantic,
and fits in so appropriately with preconceived ideas, that we
almost regret to disturb its semi-fossilised acceptance. But, in
mere fact, “neither boars nor any other wild beasts “charge” at
sight—always and only excepting elephant and rhinoceros, either
of which may (or may not) do so, though previously unprovoked.
It would, at least, be unwise entirely to ignore the contingency
of either of these two so acting.
There exist, nevertheless, old and evil-ter npered boars that
a al
ig ie
|
“ih
|
il
74 Unexplored Spain
are quite formidable adversaries. We have many such in our
Coto Dofiana—boars that, having once overmastered our hounds,
practically defy us. Each of these old solitary tuskers occupies
some densely briared stronghold—it may be but an isolated patch
of jungle, scarce half an acre in extent, or alternatively, a little
sequence of similar thickets, each connected by intervals of lighter
bush. Such spots abound by the hundred, but once the lair of
our bristled friend is found, then there is work cut out for man,
horse, and hound. For long-drawn-out minutes the silence of
the wilderness re-echoes with doubly concentrated fury—frantic
hound-music mingled with lower accompaniment of sullen, savage
snorts and grunts and the champing of tusks; then a sharp
crunch of breaking boughs and the death-yell of a podenco
tells that that blow has got home. But the seat of war remains
unchanged—the same rush and the same fatal result are repeated.
Presently some venturous hound may discover an entry from
behind. The enemy’s flank is turned, and with a crash that
seems to shake the very earth, our boar retreats to a second
stronghold only twenty yards away. All this is occurring
within arm’s length; one hears, can almost feel, the stress
of mortal combat, but one sees nothing inside the mural foliage,
nor knows what moment the enemy may sally forth. Such
moments may even excite what are termed in Spanish phrase
‘* emotions.”
In his second ‘‘ Plevna” our boar is secure, and he knows it.
With rear and flanks protected by a revétement of gnarled roots
and a labyrinth of stems, he fears nothing behind, while the
furiously baying hounds on his front he now utterly despises.
Blank shots fired in the air alarm him not, nor will Pepe Espinal
—in a service of danger—succeed in dislodging him with a
goarrocha, after a perilous climb along the briar-matted roof.
That boar is victor—master of a stricken field.
One human resource remains, to go in é arma blanca—with
the cold steel. There are dashing spirits who will do this—in
Spain we have seen such. But to crawl thus, prostrate, into the
dark and gloomy tunnels that form a wild-boar’s fortress, inter-
cepted and obstructed on every side, there to attack in single
combat a savage beast, still unhurt and in the flush of victory,
pachydermatous, and whose fighting weight far exceeds your
own — well, that we place in the category of pure recklessness.
Andalucia and its Big Game 75
Courage is a quality that all admire, though one may wonder if
it is not sometimes over-esteemed, when we find it possessed in
common, not only by very many wild-beasts, but even by savage
races of human kind—races which we regard as “lower,” yet not
inferior in that cherished quality of “ pluck.”
Before you crawl in there, stop to think of the annoyance the
act may cause not merely to our hunt, but possibly to a wife,
otherwise to sisters, friends, or hospital nurses, even, it may he,
to an undertaker—though he will not object.
Once victorious over canine foes, it will be a remote chance
indeed that that boar, unless caught by mishap in some carelessly
chosen lair, will ever again show up as a mark for the fore-sight of
a rifle.
After one such rout, we remember finding our friend the
Reverend Father, who had sallied forth with us for a mild
morning’s shooting, perched high up among the branches of a
thorny sabina (a kind of juniper), whence we rescued him, cut
and bleeding, and badly “shaken in nerve!”
We add the following typical instances of boar-shooting —
Satavar, February 1, 1900.—A lovely winter’s morn, warm
sun and dead calm. The distant cries of the beaters (nigh three
miles away) had just reached my ears, when a nearer sound
riveted attention—the soft patter of hoofs upon sand. Then
from the forest-slope behind appeared a pig—big and grey—
trotting through deep rushes some forty yards away. Already
the fore-sight was “ touching on” its neck, when a lucky suspicion
of striped piglings following their mother arrested the ball. Next
came along a gentle hind with all her infinite grace of contour
and carriage. At twenty-five yards she faced full round, and for
long seconds we stared eye to eye. Curious it is that absolute
quiescence will puzzle the wildest of the wild! Hardly had she
vanished ‘midst forest shades, than once again that muffled
patter—this time an unmistakable tusker. But, oh! what an
abominable shot I made—too low, too far back—and onwards he
pursued his course. By our forest laws it was my deber
(bounden duty) to follow the stricken game. All that noontide,
all the afternoon—through bush and brake, by dell and dusky
defile—patiently, persistently, did Juanillo Espinal and I follow
every twist and turn of that unending spoor. ‘There was blood
to help us at first, none thereafter. Through the thickets of
76 Unexplored Spain
Sabinal, then back on the left by Maé-Corra, forward through
the Carrizal, thence crossing the Corral Grande, and away into
the great pinales beyond—away to the Rincon de los Carrizos,
three solid leagues and a bit to spare! That was the price of a
bungled shot.
Here at last we have tracked him to his lair. Within that
sullen fortress of the Rincon lies our wounded boar. How to get
him out is a different problem. Though wounded, he is in no
way disabled, and is ready, aye “spoiling,” to put up a savage
fight for his life. Having precisely located him in a dense tangle
of lentisk and briar, our single dog, Careto, a tall, shaggy podenco,
not unlike a deerhound, but on smaller scale, is let go. Upa
gloomy game-path he vanishes, and in a moment fierce music
startles the silent woods. The boar refused to move. But one
resource remained. We must go in to help Careto, crawling up a
briar-laced tunnel. It was horribly dark at first, and I began to
think of when, fortunately, the light improved, and a few
yards farther in a savage scene was enacting in quite a consider-
able open. Beneath its brambled roof we could stand half
upright. In its farthest corner stood our boar at bay, a picture of
sullen ferocity. Upon Juanillo’s appearance the scene changed as
by magic—there was a rush and resounding crash. Precisely
what happened during the three succeeding seconds deponent
could not see, it being so gloomy, and Juanillo on my front.
Ere a cartridge could be shoved into the breech the great boar
was held up, Careto hanging on to his right ear, and Juanillo,
springing over the dog, had seized the grisly beast by both hind-
legs—at the hocks—and stepping backward, with one mighty
heave flung the boar sidelong on the earth. Next moment I had
driven the knife through his heart.
Though the method described is regularly employed by Spanish
hunters to seize and capture a wounded or “ bayed” boar—and
we have seen it executed dozens of times—yet seldom in such a
spot as this, cramped in space, handicapped by bad light and
intercepting boughs and briars. It was a dramatic scene, and a
bold act that bespoke cool head and brawny biceps.
The head of this boar hangs on our walls to commemorate an
event we are not likely to forget.
We remember following a wounded lynx into a similar spot
—a deep hollowed jungle. A pandemonium of savage snarling
Andalucia and its Big Game 77
and spitting, barks and yowls greeted our ears as we crawled in,
while on reaching the cavern the green eyes of the lynx flashed
like electric lights from a dark recess. Though one hind-leg
had been broken and the other damaged by a rifle-ball, yet she
held easy mastery over five or six dogs. Sitting bolt upright,
she kept the lot at bay with sweeping half-arm blows. Not
a dog dared close, and the brave feline had to be finished with the
lance.
Mancua DEL Minacro, February 4, 1908.—The covert, we
knew by spoor, held a first-rate boar, and his most probable
salida, (break-out) was at the foot of a perpendicular sand-wall,
within fifty yards of which the writer held guard. Within brief
minutes the music of the pack corroborated what had been fore-
told by spoor. Twice the boar with crashing course encircled the
mancha within, passing close inside my post. Each moment I
watched for his appearance at the expected point on the right.
Then, without notice or sound of broken bough, suddenly he stood
outside on the left—almost beneath the gun’s muzzle—not eight
feet away. Luckily (as he stood within my firing-lines) the boar
steadfastly gazed in the opposite direction, nor did I seek by
slightest movement to attract attention to my presence. For
some seconds we both remained thus, rigid. Then with sudden
decision the boar bounded off, flying the gentle slope in front,
and ere he had passed a yard clear of the firing-line, fell dead
with a bullet placed in the precise spot.
Weight, 164 lbs. clean, and grey as a donkey.
A wounded boar should always be approached with caution.
Remember he is a powerful brute, very resolute, and furnished with
quite formidable armament, which, while life remains, he will use.
One of the biggest, after receiving a bullet slightly below and
behind the heart, went slowly on some fifty yards, when he
subsided, back up, among some green iris. Half an hour later the
writer silently approached from directly behind. At ten yards
the heaving flanks showed that plenty of life remained, and
beautiful scimitar-like tushes were conspicuous enough on either
side. I therefore quietly withdrew. On a keeper presently riding
up, the boar at once dashed on a deg, flung him aside (laying
open half his ribs), and charged the horse. The latter was
smartly handled and cleared, when the boar instantly turned on
78 Unexplored Spain
me. The dash of that onset was splendid to watch. Luckily
he had a yard or two of soft bog to get through, but it was
necessary to stop him with another bullet.
Impressive is the mental sensation aroused when any savage
wild-beast—normally the object of pursuit—suddenly turns the
tables and becomes the aggressor. The actual incident is
necessarily but momentary, yet its effect remains graven on the
tablets of memory. Pity ’tis so rare.
Again we conclude with an independent impression by
J. OL Go
Never a visit to the Coto Dofiana but brings some separate experi-
ence—possibly more pleasurable in retrospect than reality! I will
instance my first interview with wild-boars. Now, of course, I know more
about them and can almost regard them with serenity; but at that time,
believe me, it was not so. That first encounter at really close quarters
occurred at the close of a long day’s work. My post was behind a
twelve-inch pine on an otherwise bare hill, the reverse slope of which
dipped down to dense bamboo-thickets just out of my sight, though close
by. Within a few minutes commenced and continued the hullabaloo of
hounds. Close glued to my pine-trunk I listened in tense excitement.
Suddenly, ere I had quite realised such possibility, there rushed into
view on the ridge, not twenty paces distant, a great shaggy grey boar.
He had dashed up the steep bank beyond and was now making direct for
my legs. This is not the confession of a nervous man, but it did occur
to me that truer safety lay.in the fork of my tree! but B. was the next gun,
only sixty or seventy yards away, and keenly interested. In a moment I
was myself again; but the interval had been, to say the least, painfully
enthralling. I had, of course, to wait till the great “Havato~ had
crossed my “firing-lines.” He certainly saw something, for he paused
momentarily, took rapid counsel, and bolted past. Nerves were steady now,
and once across the line the boar had my right in the ribs, left in flank.
I actually saw blood spurt—hair fly—at each shot, yet the boar
followed on his course unmoved. Pachydermatous pig! I pondered
while reloading. Ten seconds later on my boar’s sleuth follows Boca-
Negra, a veritable Beth Gelert. Utterly ignoring me, he passes away into
gloom and silence; but shortly I see him coming back, blood-stained and
satiated, and my self-respect returns. Ten minutes later, a second tusker
gallops along the hollow behind. Him also my right caught fair in
the ribs—only a few inches left of the heart, yet again without visible
result. The second bullet, however, broke his spine as he ascended the
sand-bank beyond, and he fell stone dead. When the beat was over we
followed No. 1. He also lay still, 200 yards away—a pair of first-rate
tuskers.
Andalucia and its Big Game 79
I remember, during the gralloch, some dreadfully poor charcoal-
burners appearing on the scene to beg for food. This, of course, was
gladly conceded; but so famished were those poor creatures that old
women filled their aprons with reeking viscera, while it was with
difficulty that children could be prevented from starting at once on raw
flesh and liver. ‘Truly it was a grievous spectacle, and filled the home-
ward ride with sad reflections on the awful hardships such poor folk are
destined to endure.
BOLTED PAST
In days of rapid change, when, in our own generation,
sporting weapons have been at least thrice utterly metamorphosed,
it is unwise to be dogmatic. Yet we may summarise our personal
experience that the most efficient weapon for all such purposes
as here described is that known as the ‘“ Paradox,” or at least of
the Paradox type. The old ‘“‘ Express rifle” (the best in its day,
less than a score of years ago, but now mere “ scrap”) was also
useful. But it always fell second to the Paradox, as the latter
(being really a shot-gun, equally available for small game, snipe,
duck, or geese) came up quicker to the eye for snap-shooting
with ball.
The invention of the Paradox type of gun has practically
introduced a third style of shooting where there previously
existed only two, to wit :—
8o Unexplored Spain
(1) Gun-shooting with shot where any “aim” or even an
apology for an aim is fatal to modern maximum success.
(2) Rifle-shooting proper, which must be mechanical and
deliberate—the more so, the more effective.
(3) Thirdly, we have this new system intermediate between
the two—* gun-shooting with ball.”
Using the Paradox as a rifle, an alignment must be taken ;
but it may be taken as with a gun, and not necessarily the
deliberate and mechanical alignment essential with a rifle,
properly so called.
In short, with a Paradox, always glance along the sights.
You will nearly always find that some “refinement” of aim is
required. More words are useless.
One word as to the “forward allowance” needed after the
rough alignment (as explained) has been effected. At short
snapshot ranges none is required. At a galloping stag at 50
yards, the sights should clear his chest; at 100 yards, half-a-
length ahead, and double that for 150 yards. At these longer
ranges one instinctively allows for “drop” by taking a fuller
sight. For standing shots, of course, the back-sights can
be used.
Boar-HuntTinG By MOoonLicut (EsTREMADURA)
“ Cacerta & la Ronda.”
This picturesque and altogether break-neck style of hunting
the boar—a style perhaps more consonant than “ driving”
with popular notions of the dash and chivalry of Spanish
character—still survives in the wild province of Estremadura.
No species of sport in our experience will compare with the
Ronda for danger and sheer recklessness unless it be that of
“riding lions” to a stand, as practised on British Hast African
plains.*
Years ago we described this system of the Ronda in the
“ Bio-Game” volumes of the Badminton Library, and here
write a new account, correcting some slight errors which had
crept into the earlier article.
This sport is practised by moonlight at that period of the
autumn called the Montanera, when acorns and chestnuts fall
1 See On Safari, by Abel Chapman, pp. 216-17. The Spanish term Ronda may roughly
be translated as ‘‘rounding-up.”
Andalucia and its Big Game 81
from the trees, and when droves of domestic swine are turned
loose into the woods to feed on these wild fruits. At that date
the wild-boars also are in the habit of descending from the
adjacent sierras, and wander far and wide over the wooded plains
in search of that favourite food.
When the acorns fall thus and ripe chestnuts strew the
ground in these magnificent Estremenian forests, the young bloods
of the district assemble to await the arrival of the boars upon
the lower ground. Two kinds of dog are employed : the ordinary
podencos, which run free; and the alanos, a breed of rough-
haired “seizers,” crossed between bull-dog and mastiff—these
latter being held in leash.
Sallying forth at midnight, so soon as the podencos give
tongue, the alanos are slipped in order to “ hold-up” the flying
boar till the horsemen can reach the spot.
Then for a while hound-music frightens the darkness and
shocks the silence of the sleeping woods; there is crashing among
dry forest-scrub, a breakneck scurry of mounted men among
the timber, until the furious baying of the hounds and the noisy
rush of the hunters converge towards one dark point among the
shadows, and in the half-light a great grisly tusker dies beneath
the cold steel, but not before he has written a lasting record on
the hide of some luckless hound.
A stiff neck and bold heart are essential to these dare-devil
gallops, where each horse and horseman vie in reckless rivalry,
flying through bush and brake, and under overhung boughs
difficult to distinguish amid moon-rays intercepted by foliage
above. Accidents of course oceur—an odd collar-bone or two
hardly count, but what does annoy is when by mistake some
wretched beast of domestic race is found held up by the excited
pack,
ZEA
Se
CHAPTER. VII
“OUR LADY OF THE DEW”
THE PILGRIMAGE TO THE SHRINE OF NUESTRA SENORA DEL ROCIO
Pincrimaces by the pious to distant shrines are a well-known
phase in the faith both of the Moslem and of the Romish Church,
and require no definition by us; but one that is yearly performed
to a tiny and isolated shrine not a dozen miles from our
shooting-lodge of Dofiana deserves description.
First as to its origin. Twelve hundred years ago when Arab
conquerors overran Spain much treasure of the churches, with
many sacred emblems, relics, etc., were hurriedly concealed in
places of safety. But not unnaturally, since Moorish domina-
tion extended over 700 years, all trace or record of such
hiding-places had long been lost, and it was merely by chance
and one by one that, after the Reconquest, the hidden treasures
were rediscovered.
The story of the recovery of our Lady of the Dew is related
to have occurred in this wise. A shepherd tending his flocks
in the neighbourhood of Almonte was induced by the strangely
excited barking of his dog to force a way into the dense thickets
known as La Rocina de la Madre (a wooded swamp, famous as
a breeding-place of the smaller herons, egrets, and ibises), in the
midst of which the dog led him to an ancient hollowed tree.
Here, half-hidden in the cavernous trunk, the shepherd espied
the figure of “a Virgin of rare beauty and of exquisite carving,”
clothed in a tunic of what had been white linen, but now stained
dull green through centuries of exposure to the weather and
dew (rocio).
Overjoyed, the shepherd, bearing the Virgin on his shoulders,
set out for Almonte, distant three leagues; but being overcome
by fatigue and the weight of his burden, he lay down to rest by
82
“Our Lady of the Dew” ~— 83
the way and fell asleep. On awakening he found the Virgin had
gone—she had returned to her hollow tree. Having ascertained
this, and being now filled with fear, he proceeded alone to
Almonte, where he reported his discovery. At once the Alcalde
and clergy accompanied him to the spot, and finding the image
as related, a vow was then and there solemnised that a shrine,
dedicated to N. 8. del Rocio, should be erected at the very spot.
On its being discovered that this Virgin was able to perform
miracles and to grant petitions, her fame soon spread afar, and
religious fervour waxed strong. Thus during the plague of
1649-50, the Virgin having been removed to Almonte as a
safeguard, the inhabitants of that place were immune from the
pestilence, though every other hamlet was decimated. A second
miracle was attributed to the Virgin. Hard by the shrine at
Rocio was a spring of water, but of such poor supply that
ordinarily a single man could empty it within two hours: yet
during the three days of the pilgrimage thousands of men and
their horses could all assuage their thirst.
Owing to these manifestations devout persons endowed the
Virgin of Rocio with considerable sums of money, with which
a larger shrine was built, while sumptuous garments, laces, and
embroidery, with jewelry and precious stones, were provided for
her adornment. In addition to this, Replicas of the original
effigy were made and distributed around the villages of the
neighbourhood, particularly the following :—
Kilos. Kilos,
Palma, distant 32 San Lucar, distant 45
Moguer 30 Villamanrique 18
Umbrete ,, 45 Pilas s 23
Huelva ,, 65 Almonte 5 17
Triana, 76 Coria 5 44
Rota 43 55
At each of these and other places, ‘“‘ Brotherhoods” (Her-
mandades), affiliated to the original at Rocio, were established
to guard these ettigies ; and it is from these points that every
Whitsuntide the various pilgrim-fraternities journey forth across
the wastes towards Rocio, each Brotherhood bringing its own
carved replica to pay its annual homage to its carved prototype.
In the spring of 1910 the authors attended the Festa.
Already, the night before, premonitory symptoms—the tuning-up
84 Unexplored Spain
of fife and drum—had been audible, and during the twelve-mile
ride next morning fresh contingents winding through the scrub-
clad plain were constantly sighted, all converging upon Rocio.
It was not, however, till reaching that hamlet that the full
extent of the pilgrimage became apparent, and a striking and
characteristic spectacle it formed. From every point of the
compass were descried long files of white-tilted ox-waggons—
hundreds of them—slowly advancing across the flower-starred
plain; the waggons all bedecked in gala style, crammed to the
last seat with guitar-touching girls, with smiling duennas and
attendant squires; the ox-teams gaily caparisoned, and escorted
by prancing cavaliers, many with wife or daughter mounted
pillion-wise behind, while younger pilgrims challenged impromptu
trials of speed—a series of minor steeplechases. There were
four-in-hand brakes, mule-teams and donkey-carts, pious
pedestrians—a motley parade enveloped in clouds of dust and
noise, but all in perfect order.
The following quaint description was written down for us
by a Spanish friend who accompanied us :—
It is at the entry of the various processions that the most striking
and picturesque effects are produced by the cavalcade. Here one sees
displayed the grace and ability of the Amazon—the robust and comely
Andalucian maiden, carried & ancas (pillion-wise) at the back of his
saddle by gallant cavalier proud of his gentle companion, and exhibiting
to advantage his skill in horsemanship. The noble steed, conscious of its
onerous part, carries the double burden with care and spirit, being trained
to curvet and rear in all the bravery of medizval and Saracenic age.
About 4 p.m., while the converging caravans were yet a mile
or so afield, all halted, each to organise its own procession, and
each headed by the waggon bearing its own Virgin bedecked
in gorgeous apparels of silk and silver braid. Then to the
accompaniment of bands: and bell-ringing, hand-clapping and
castanets, drum, tambourine, and guitar, with flags flying and
steeds curvetting, this singular combination of religious rite with
musical fantasia resumed its advance into the village.
Despite the dust and crush not a unit but held its assigned
position, and thus—one long procession succeeding another—the
whole concourse filed into the village, crossed its narrow green,
and sought the shrine where, within the open doors, the Virgin
of Rocio, removed from the altar, was placed to receive the
“Our Lady of the Dew” 85
homage of the Brotherhoods. As each Replica reached the spot,
‘its bearers halted and knelt, while expert drivers even made their
ox-teams kneel down in submission before the “ Queen of Heaven
and Earth.” There was but a moment's delay, nor did castanets
and song cease for an instant. Later in the evening came the
processions of the Rosdrio, when each of the visiting Brotherhoods
make a ceremonious call upon the Senior Brother—that is, the
Hermit of Rocio—after which each confraternity, with less
ceremony but more joviality, visited the camps of the others.
This last was accompanied by bands, massed choirs, and
Jireworks. Then the festival resolved itself, so far as we could
judge, into a purely secular affair—feasting, merry-making,
dancing, till far on in the night.
Rain had set in at dusk and was now falling fast. Rocio is
but a tiny hamlet—say two score of humble cots—yet to-night
6000 people occupied it, the womenfolk sleeping inside their
canvas-tilted ox-waggons, the men lying promiscuously on the
ground beneath.
Sunday is occupied with religious ceremonies, beginning with
High Mass. These we will not attempt to describe—nor could
we if we would. The Spanish friend who at our request jotted
down some notes on the festa uses the following expressions :—
The days of the Rocio are days of expansion, merry-making, animation.
Never, throughout the festival, ceases the laughter of joyous voices, the
clang of the castanets, the melody of guitar and tambourine. Dances,
song, and music, with jovial intercourse and good fellowship, all unite to
preserve unflagging the rejoicing which is cultivated at that beautiful spot.
At this festival many traders assist with different installations, including
jewellers in the porch of the church, vendors of medallions, photographs,
coloured ribbons, and other articles dedicated to the patroness of a
festival which is well worthy a visit for its originality and bewitchment.
On the Monday morning, after joint attendance of all the
Brotherhoods at Mass, followed by a sermon, the image of the
Virgin is formally replaced upon the altar (the feet resting upon
the same hollow trunk in which the figure was first found), then
the processions are reformed and the long homeward journey to
their respective destinations begins.
Although many thousands of people yearly attend this
festival, all entirely uncontrolled by any authority, yet quarrels
and disturbance are unknown. The mere cry of “viva la
86 Unexplored Spain
Virgen suffices at once to appease incipient angers, should such
arise. Thousands of horses and donkeys, moreover, are allowed
to roam about untended and unguarded, as there is no danger of
their being stolen.
The Virgin of the Rocio, it appears, specialises in accidents,
and many votive pictures hung within the shrine illustrate the
nature of her miracles. One man is depicted falling headlong
from a fifth-storey window, another from a lofty pine, a third
drowning in a torrential flood; a lady is thrown by a mule,
another run over by a cart, a lad caught by an infuriated bull;
a beatific-looking person stands harmless amidst fiery forked
lightning—apparently enjoying it. From all these and other
appalling forms of death, the survivors, having been saved by
the Virgin’s miraculous interposition, have piously contributed
pictorial evidence of the various occurrences.
A somewhat gruesome relic records the incident that a
mother having vowed that should her daughter be restored to
life, she should walk to Rocio in her grave-clothes—and there the
said clothes lie as evidence of that miracle.
The festival above described is celebrated each spring at
Pentecost. There is, however, a second yearly pilgrimage into
Rocio which originated in this wise.
In 1810 when the French occupied this country, the village
of Almonte was held by two troops of cavalry who were engaged
in impressing recruits from among the neighbouring peasantry.
These naturally objected to serve the enemy, but many were
terrorised into obedience. Bolder spirits there were, however,
and these, to the number of thirty-six, resolved to strike a
blow for freedom. Having assembled in the thick woods outside
Almonte, at two o’clock one afternoon they fell upon the un-
suspecting French and, ere these could defend themselves, many
were killed and others made prisoners. Finally the French
commander was shot dead on his own doorstep. ‘The villagers
of Almonte were horrified at what had occurred, for, although
they had had no hand in the matter, they felt sure they would
have to bear the blame” —so runs a Spanish account.
The few French troopers who had escaped fled to Seville,
reported the affair, and (wrongly) incriminated the villagers of
Almonte—precisely as those worthies had foreseen. The General
“Our Lady of the Dew” 87
commanding at Seville ordered that Almonte should be razed
to the ground and its inhabitants beheaded—that being the
penalty decreed by Murat for any shedding of French blood.
A detachment of dragoons, despatched to Almonte, had already
taken prisoner the mayor, the priests, and all the chief in-
habitants preparatory to their execution. In this grave situation
they bethought themselves to pray to the Virgin of Rocio,
promising that if she would rescue them from their deadly peril,
they would institute a new pilgrimage to her shrine for
thanksgiving.
Already the detachment of French soldiers detailed to carry
out the executions had reached Pilas, a village within six leagues
of Almonte, when, by mere coincidence, a handful of Spanish
troops flung themselves against the French positions at Seville.
The French, thinking that their assailants must be the fore-
runners of a larger army, hurriedly recalled all their outposts,
including those commissioned to destroy Almonte !
Thus the wretched Alcalde and his fellow-prisoners were
saved ; for, their innocence of the “crime” being presently estab-
lished, the town was let off with a fine. Since then, in accordance
with the promise made 100 years ago, the whole of Almonte
repairs every 7th of August to the shrine of Nuestra Senora del
Rocio.
PRAYING MANTIS (Mantis religivsa)
CHAPTER VIII
THE MARISMAS OF GUADALQUIVIR
THE DELTA
From Seville to the Atlantic the great river Guadalquivir pursues
its course through seventy miles of alluvial mud-flats entirely of its
own construction. The whole
of this viewless waste (in
winter largely submerged) is
technically termed the mar-
isma; but its upper regions,
slightly higher -lying, have
proved amenable to a limited
dominion of man, and nowa-
days comprise (besides some
rich corn-lands) broad pastur-
ages devoted to grazing, and
which yield Toros bravos,
that is, fighting-bulls of
breeds celebrated throughout
Spain, as providing the popu-
AVOCET lar champions of the Plaza.
It is not of these developed
regions that we treat, but of the Lower Delta, which still
remains a wilderness, and must for centuries remain so—a
vast area of semi-tidal saline ooze and marsh, extending over
some forty or fifty miles in length, and spreading out laterally
to untold leagues on either side of the river.
This Lower Delta, the marisma proper, while it varies here
and there by a few inches in elevation, is practically a uniform
dead-level of alluvial mud, only broken by vetas, or low grass-
grown ridges seldom rising more than a foot or two above the
88
The Marismas of Guadalquivir 89
flat, and which vary in extent from a few yards to hundreds of
acres. ‘The precise geological cause of these vetas we know not;
but the calcareous matter of which they are composed—the debris
of myriad disintegrated sea-shells, mostly bivalves—proves that
the ocean at an earlier period held sway, till gradually driven
backwards by the torrents of alluvial matter carried down by the
river, and finally forced behind the vast sand-barrier now known
as the Coto Dofiana—the buffer called into being whilst age-long
struggles raged between these two opposing forces. The fact is
further evidenced by the salt crust which yearly forms on the
surface of the lower marisma when the summer sun has evaporated
its waters.
In summer the marisma is practically a sun-scorched mud-flat ;
in winter a shallow inland sea, with the vetas standing out like
islands.
There are, as already stated, slight local variations in elevation.
Naturally the lower-lying areas are the first to retain moisture
so soon as the long torrid summer has passed away and autumn
rains begin. Speedily these become shallow lagoons, termed
luwctos—similar, we imagine, to the jheels of India—and a
welcome haven they afford to the advance-guard of immigrant
wildfowl from the north.
Plant-life in the marismas is regulated by the relative saltness
of the soil. In the deeper ducios no vegetation can subsist ; but
where the level rises, though but a few inches, and the ground is
less saline, the hardy samphire (in Spanish, armajo) appears,
covering with its small isolated bushes vast stretches of the lower
marisma.
The armajo, which is formed of a congeries of fleshy twigs,
leafless, and jointed more like the marine algae than a land-plant,
belongs to three species as follows :—
(1) Salecornea herbacea, marsh-samphire; in Spanish, Sapina.
(2) Arthraenimum fruticosum
(3) Suaeda fruticosa
All three belong to the natural order Chenopodiaceae (or
‘“ Goose-foot” family).
The armajo is the typical plant of the marisma, flourishing
even where there is a considerable percentage of salt in the soil.
This aquatic shrub increases most in dry seasons, a series of wet
winters having a disastrous effect on its growth. The Sapina,
\in Spanish, Armayjo.
go Unexplored Spain
above mentioned, has a curious effect when eaten by mares (which
is often the case when other food is scarce) of inducing a form of
intoxication from which many die. Indeed, the
deaths from Hnsapinadas represent a serious loss
to horse-breeders whose mares are sent to graze in
the marismas. Cattle are not affected.
Formerly the Sapina possessed a commercial
value, being used (owing to its alkaline qualities) in
the manufacture of soap. Nowadays it is replaced
by other chemicals.
Here and there, owing to some imperceptible
gradient, the marisma is traversed by broad channels
called cafios, where, by reason of the water having
a definite flow, the soil has become less saline. The
armajo at such spots becomes scarce or disappears
altogether, its place being taken by quite different
plants, namely: Spear-grass (Cyperus), Candilejo, Bayunco,
the English names of which we do not know.
Efforts have been made from time to time to reclaim and
utilise portions of the marisma by draining the water to the
river; but failure has invariably resulted for the following
reasons :
(1) The intense saltness of the soil.
(2) That the marisma lies largely on a lower level than the
river banks.
(3) The river being tidal, its water is salt or brackish.
There are vast areas of far better land in Spain which might
be reclaimed with certainty and at infinitely less cost.
The only human inhabitants of the marisma are a few herds-
men whose reed-built huts are scattered on remote vetas. There
are also the professional wildfowlers with their cabresto-ponies ;
but this class is disappearing as, bit by bit, the system of
‘‘ preservation” extends over the wastes. Though the climate
is healthy enough except for a period just preceding the autumn
rains, yet our keepers and most of those who live here per-
manently are terrible sufferers from malaria. Quinine, they tell
us, costs as much as bread in the family economy.
We quote the following impression from Wild Spain, p. 78 :—
The utter loneliness and desolation of the middle marismas call forth
sensations one does not forget. Hour after hour one pushes forward
SAMPHIRE
GUNNING-PUNT IN ‘THE MARISMA,
(NOTE THE HALF-SUBMEKGED SAMPHIKE-BUSHES.,)
WILD-GOOSE SHOOTING ON THE SANDHILLS.
(NOTE TIN DECOYS, ALSO SOME NATURAL GEESE.)
VASQUEZ APPROACHING WILDFOWL WITH CABRESTO-PoNy.
The Marismas of Guadalquivir 91
across a flooded plain only to bring within view more and yet more
vistas of watery waste and endless horizons of tawny water. On a low
islet at farthest distance stand a herd of cattle—mere points in space ;
but these, too, partake of the general wildness and splash off at a gallop
while yet a mile away. Even the wild-bred horses and ponies of the
marisma revert to an aboriginal anthropophobia, and become as shy and
timid as the ferae naturae themselves. After long days in this monotony,
wearied eyes at length rejoice at a vision of trees—a dark-green pine-
grove casting grateful shade on scorching sands beneath. To that oasis
we direct our course, but it proves a fraud, one of nature’s cruel
mockeries—a mirage. Not a tree grows on that spot, or within leagues
of it, nor has done for ages—perhaps since time began.
Such is the physical character of the marisma, so far as we
can describe it. The general landscape in winter is decidedly
dreary and somewhat deceptive, since the vast areas of brown
armajos lend an appearance of dry land where none exists, since
those plants are growing in, say, a foot or two of water—‘‘a
floating forest paints the wave.” The monotony is broken at
intervals by the reed-fringed cafios, or sluggish channels, and by
the lucios, big and little—the latter partially sprinkled with
armajo-growth, the bigger sheets open water, save that, as a
rule, their surface is carpeted with wildfowl.
Should our attempted description read vague, we may plead
that there is nothing tangible to describe in a wilderness devoid
of salient feature. Nor can we liken it with any other spot, for
nowhere on earth have we met with a region like this—nominally
dry all summer and inundated all winter, yet subject to such
infinite variation according to varying seasons. It is not, however,
the marisma itself that during all these years has absorbed our
interest and energies—no, that dreary zone would offer but little
attraction were it not for its feathered inhabitants. These, the
winter wildfowl, challenge the world to afford such display of
winged and web-footed folk, and it is these we now endeavour to
describe.
By mid-September, as a rule, the first signs of the approach-
ing invasion of north-bred wildfowl become apparent. But if,
as often happens, the long summer drought yet remains unbroken,
these earlier arrivals, finding the marisma untenable, are con-
strained to take to the river, or to pass on into Africa.
Should the dry weather extend into October, the only ducks
to remain permanently in any great numbers are the teal, the
92 Unexplored Spain
few big ducks then shot being either immature or in poor
condition, from which it may be inferred that the main bodies
of all species have passed on to more congenial regions.
About the 25th September the first greylag geese appear.
These are not affected by the scarcity of water in any such degree
as ducks, since they only need to drink twice a day, morning and
evening, and make shift to subsist by digging up the bulb-like
roots of the spear-grass with their powerful bills.
GREYLAG GEESE
But so soon as autumn rains have fallen, and the whole
marisma has become suppled with “‘ new water,” it at once fills
up with wildfowl—ducks and geese—in such variety and prodigious
quantities as we endeavour to describe in the following sketches.
WILDFOWL—’EWIXT CuP AND LIP
Wildfowl beyond all the rest of animated nature lend them-
selves to spectacular display. For their enormous aggregations
(due as much to concentration within restricted haunts, as to
gregarious instinct, and to both these causes combined) are
always openly visible and conspicuous inasmuch as those haunts
are, in all lands, confined to shallow water and level marsh devoid
of cover or concealment.
Thus, wherever they congregate in their thousands and tens
of thousands, wildfowl are always in view—that is, to those who
seek them out in their solitudes. This last, however, is an
important proviso. For the haunts aforesaid are precisely those
areas of the earth’s surface which are the most repugnant to man,
and least suited to his existence.
In crowded England there survive but few of those dreary
The Marismas of Guadalquivir 93
estuaries where miles of oozy mud-flats separate sea and land,
treacherous of foot-hold, exposed to tide-ways and to every gale
that blows. Such only are the haunts of British wildfowl, though
how many men in a million have ever seen them? To wilder
Spain, with its 50 per cent of waste, and its vast irreclaimed
marismas, come the web-footed race in quantities undreamt at
home.
We have before attempted to describe such scenes, though
a fear that we might be discredited oft half paralysed the
pen. An American critic of our former book remarked that it
“left the gaping reader with a feeling that he had not been told
half.” That lurking fear could not be better explained. A dread
of Munchausenism verily gives pause in writing even of what
one has seen again and again, raising doubts of one’s own eye-
sight and of the pencilled notes that, year after year, we had
scrupulously written down on the spot.
The Baetican marisma has afforded many of those scenes of
wild-life that, for the reason stated, were before but half-described.
With fuller experience we return to the subject, though daring
not entirely to satisfy our trans-Atlantic friend.
The winter of 1896 provided such an occasion. It was on the
26th of November that, under summer conditions, we rode out,
where in other years we have sailed, across what should have
been water, but was now a calcined plain.
November was nearly past; autumn had given place to winter,
yet not a drop of rain had fallen. Since the scorching days of
July the fountains of heaven had been stayed, and now the winter
wildfowl from the north had poured in only to find the marisma
as hard and arid as the deserts of Arabia Petraea. Instinct was
at fault. True, each to their appointed seasons, had come, the
dark clouds of pintail, teal, and wigeon, the long skeins of grey
geese. Where in other years they had revelled in shallows rich
in aquatic vegetation, now the travellers find instead nought but
torrid plains devoid of all that is attractive to the tastes of their
tribe. For the parched soil, whose life-blood has been drained by
the heats of the summer solstice, whose plant-life is burnt up,
has remained panting all the autumn through for that precious
moisture that still comes not. The carcases of horses and cattle,
that have died from thirst and lack of pasturage, strew the plains ;
the winter-sown wheat is dead ere germination is complete.
94 Unexplored Spain
In such years of drought many of the newly arrived wildfowl,
especially pintails, pass on southwards (into Africa), not to return
till February. The remainder crowd into the few places where
the precious element—water—still exists. Such are the rare pools
that are fed from quicksands (iwcl¢s) or permanent land-springs
(ojos) and a few of the larger and deeper Juczos of the marisma.
Riding through stretches of shrivelled samphire we frequently
spring deer, driven out here, miles from their forest-haunts, by
the eager search for water.
Approaching the first of the great /wevos, or permanent pools,
WHITE-EYED POCHARD (fuligulu nyroca)
a wondrous sight lay before our eyes. This water might extend
for three or four miles, but was literally concealed by the crowds
of flamingoes that covered its surface. For a moment it was
dithcult to believe that those pink and white leagues would really
be all composed of living creatures. Their identity, however,
became clear enough when, within 600 yards, we could distinguish
the scattered outposts gradually concentrating upon the solid
ranks beyond. Disbelieve it if you will, but four fairly sane
Englishmen estimated that crowd, when a rifle-shot set them on
wing, to exceed ten thousand units—by how much, we decline to
ouess.
The nearer shores, with every creek and channel, were darkened
The Marismas of Guadalquivir 95
by masses of ducks, huddled together like dusky islets; while
further away several army-corps of geese were striving, with
sonorous gabble, to tear up tuberous roots of spear - grass
(castaiuela) from sun-baked mud.
It was a rifle-shot at these last that finally set the whole host
on wing—an indescribable spectacle, hurrying hordes everywhere
outflanked by the glinting black and pink glamour of flamingoes.
Then the noise—the reverberating roar of wings, blending with
¢ or
f
‘““FLAMINGOES OVER”
a babel of croaks and gabblings, whistles and querulous pipes,
punctuated by shriller bi-tones, . . . we give that up.
A long ride in prospect precluded serious operations to-night,
but towards dusk we lined out our four guns, and in half an hour
loaded up the panniers of the carrier-ponies with nearly three score
ducks and geese.
An hour before the morning’s dawn we were in position to
await the earliest geese. Hxperience had taught the chief fight-
lines, and these, over many miles of marsh, were commanded
by lines of sunken tubs. These, however, the exceptional
conditions had rendered temporarily useless. Our tubs lay miles
96 Unexplored Spain
from water; hence each man had to hide as best he could,
prostrate behind rush-tuft or twelve-inch samphire.
This morning, however, the greylags flew wide and scattered,
in strange contrast with their customary regularity. We noticed
the change, but knew not the cause. The geese did. The
barometer during the night (unnoticed by us at 4 a.m.) had
gone down half an inch, and already, as we assembled for breakfast
at ten o'clock, rain was beginning to fall—the first rain since the
spring! The wind, which for weeks had remained “ nailed to the
North—norte clavado,” in Spanish phrase—flew to all airts, and
a change was at hand. By eleven there burst what the Spanish
\,
‘i
a ek Ge
\
ny
\
\
\
POCHARD (Fuligula ferina)
well name a tormenta; lightning flashed from a darkened sky,
while thunder.rolled overhead, and rain drove horizontal on
a living hurricane. An hour later the heavens cleared, and the
sun was shining as before. That short and sudden storm, how-
ever, had marked an epoch. The whole conditions of bird-life in
the marisma had been revolutionised within a couple of hours.
In other years, under such conditions as this morning had
promised, we have records of sixty and eighty greylags brought
to bag, and it was with such anticipation that we had set out
to-day. The result totalled but a quarter of such numbers.
Ducks came next in our programme, and the writer, being
the last gun by lot, had several miles to ride to his remote post
at El Hondén. The scenes in bird-life through which we rode
The Marismas of Guadalquivir 97
amazed even accustomed eyes. At intervals as we advanced
across mud-flats clad in low growth of rush and samphire, rose
for a mile across our front such crowds of wigeon and teal that
the landscape ahead appeared a quivering horizon of wings that
shimmered like a heat-haze.
Crouching behind a low breastwork, before me lay a five-acre
pool which no amount of firing ever kept quite clear of swimming
forms, so fast did thirsty duck, teal, and geese keep dropping in,
since behind for twenty leagues stretched waterless plain.
Merely to make a bag under such conditions means taking
every chance, firing away till barrels grow too hot to hold. Here,
however, that nature-love that overrides even a fowler’s keenness
stepped in. With half the wildfowl of Europe flashing, wheeling,
and alighting within view—many, one fondly imagined, likely to
be of supreme interest—the writer cannot personally go on taking
single mallards, teal, or wigeon, one after another in superb but
almost monotonous rapidity. For the moment, in fact, the
naturalist supplants the gunner. True, this may be sacrificing
the mutton to the shadow, and this afternoon no special prize
rewarded self-denial in letting pass many a tempting chance.
For gratifying indeed to fowler’s pride it is to pull down in
falling heap the smart pintails and brilliant shovelers, to bring
off a right-and-left at geese, though, it may be, one had first
to let a cloud of wigeon pass the silent muzzle. Such is
individual taste, nor will the memory of that afternoon ever fade,
although my score, when at 3.30 p.m. I was recalled, only totalled
up to seventy-four ducks and four greylag geese.
The recall was imperative, and I obeyed, though not without
hesitation and doubt. Could earth provide a better place ?
H
98 Unexplored Spain
“Yes,” replies Vasquez, “‘in one hour the geese will be streaming
in clouds up the Algaidilla and Cafio Juncero. Come! there’s
no time to lose.” Within an hour we had reached the spot.
The water was four inches deep, with low cover of rushes. The
revolving stool stood too high, so I knelt in the shallow, and
within three minutes the first squad of geese came in quite
straight. One I took kneeling, but had to jump for the second.
Just as No. 2 collapsed, No. 1 caught me full amidships, knock-
ing me sidelong and, rebounding, upset the stool and the bag of
cartridges thereon! A nice mess, occurring at the very outset of
WILD GEESE ALIGHTING AT FIFTEEN YARDS
(Take the upper pair right-and-left, leaving the nearer geese for second gun. )
one of those ambrosial half-hours seldom realised outside of
dreams. Quickly I dried the cartridges as well as circumstances
would admit, for pack after pack of geese hurled themselves
gagoling and honking right in my face, and during the few brief
minutes of the southern twilight, I reckoned I had twenty-three
down—seven right-and-lefts—though in the darkness only seven-
teen could be gathered, the winged all necessarily escaping.
Within thirty-six hours we had secured sixty-two geese and
over two hundred ducks. For four guns, under favouring con-
ditions, this would have been no very special result ; but to-day the
fowl] were all alert and restless at the prospect of a coming change.
The keynote had already been sounded that first day, when the
tormenta burst, and when the long drought ended on the very
The Marismas of Guadalquivir 99
morning we had selected to commence our operations. Had the
weather held for a single week but why dwell on it? The
point must be clear enough. No more geese were got that year.
Let us conclude with a few ornithological observations made
during succeeding days. On November 30, after three days of
stormy weather, with tremendous bursts of rainfall, there com-
menced one of the most remarkable bird-migrations we have
witnessed. From early morn till night (and all the following
day) cloud upon cloud of ducks kept streaming overhead from the
westward. Frequently a score of packs would be in view at once
—never were the heavens clear; and all coming from precisely
the same direction and travelling in parallel lines to the east.
Their course seemed to indicate that these migrants (avoiding the
overland route across Spain which would involve passing over her
great cordilleras, say 10,000 feet) had travelled south by the
coast-line as far as the latitude of Cape St. Vincent. Thence
they “hauled their wind” and bore up on an easterly course
which brought them direct into the great marismas of the
Guadalquivir.*
Las NvurEvas
We had acquired this waste of marsh and mud-flat and were
keen to “go and possess it.” Initial difficulties arose to con-
front us. Though the whole region now belonged to us (ze.
the rights of chase, and it boasts but little other value) yet
our possession was to be met by some opposition.
It was all very natural, delightfully human, and despite the
annoyance, captivated our sympathy. Local fowlers, accustomed
from immemorial times to earn a scant living by shooting for
market the wildfowl of the wilderness, resented this acquisition
of exclusive rights. Our scattered guards were overawed, our
reed-built huts were burned, and threats reached us—not to
mention a casual bullet or two ricochetting in wild bounds
across the watery waste. That one quality, however, above
mentioned—sympathy—is the passport to Spanish hearts, and
1 At the date in question (end of November) it is, of course, possible that this immigration
was proceeding, not from the north, but from the south. Thatis, that these were fowl which,
on their first arrival in Spain in September and October, had found the marisma untenable
from lack of water, and had in consequence passed on into Africa, whence they were now
returning, on the changed weather. But be that as it may, the route above indicated is
that invariably followed by the north-bred wildfow] on their first arrival in Spain.
100 Unexplored Spain
thereby, together with courtesy and fairdealing, the erstwhile
insurgents in brief time became the best of friends.
For the moment, however, we found ourselves hutless, and
constrained to encamp two leagues away on the distant terra
jirma, this involving an extra couple of hours’ work in the small
dark hours.
As before 4 a.M. we rode, beneath a pouring rain, “ path-
finding,” in blind darkness across slimy ooze and shallow—not to
mention deeper channels that reached to the girths,—a nightjar
circled round our cavaleade —true, a very small event, but
recorded because it is quite against the rules for a nightjar to be
here in December. Only three guns braved this adventure, and
by 5.45 we occupied each his allotted post. These could not be
called comfortable, since the positions in which we had to spend
the next six or eight hours were quite six inches deep in water,
and the only covert a circle of samphire-bush barely a foot above
water-level—that being the utmost height allowed by the keen
sight of flighting fowl. Hach man had an armful of cut brush-
wood to kneel on, besides another bundle on which cartridge-
bags might be supported clear of the water.’
Rain descended in sheets. Before it was fully light—indeed
the average human being of diurnal habit would probably swear
it was still quite dark—the swish of wings overhead foretold
the coming day. Then with a roar the whole marisma bursts
into life as though by clock-work. Thrice-a-minute, and oftener,
sped bunches of duck right in one’s face, at times a hurricane of
wings. Not seeing them till quite close in, but one barrel can
be emptied each time, yet soon a score of beautiful pintail and
wigeon formed the basis of a pile.
Behind, in the gloom to westward, a sense of movement has
developed. At first it might have been but the drift of night-clouds,
but as light broadens, form and colour evolve and the phenomenon
shapes itself into vast bodies of flamingoes, sprawling, as it were, on
the face of heaven in writhing, scintillating confusion. After infinite
evolutions, the amorphous mass resolves itself into order; files
and marshalled phalanxes serry the sky—those weird wildfowl,
each with some six foot of rigid extension, advancing direct upon
our posts. Their armies have spent the night on the broad
1 This was in earlier days. Later on we developed a flotilla of flat-bottomed canoes
expressly adapted to this service. A photo of one of these is annexed.
The Marismas of Guadalquivir ror
lucios of El Desierto, and now head away towards feeding-
grounds outside. Arrayed line beyond line in echelon, ten thou-
sand pinions beat, in unison—beat in short, sharp strokes from
the elbow. The fantasy of form amazes; the flash of contrasted
colour as the first sun-rays strike on black, white, and vermilion.
One may have witnessed this spectacle a score of times, yet
never does it pall or leave one without a sense that here nature
has treated us to one of her wildest creations. No rude sketch
of ours—possibly not the best that art can produce—will ever
convey the effect of these quaint forms in vast moving agelomera-
tion. Long after they have vanished in space, one remains
entranced with the glamour of the scene.
WILDFOWL IN THE MARISMA
The flamingoes have passed away, but the lightening skies are
still streaked and serried. Most numerous are the wigeon, millions
of them in hurrying phalanxes, white specks flanged with dark
wings, too well known to describe; pintails (this wet winter
hardly less numerous), readily distinguishable by their longer
build and stately grace of flight; the dark heads and snowy
necks of the drakes conspicuous afar. The arrow-like course of
the shoveler, along with his vibrant wing-beats and incessant
eall, ‘‘ zook, zook, tsook, tsook,” identify that species ; while gad-
wall, more sombre in tone than the mallards, ‘“ talk” in distinc-
tive style; and mob-like masses of teal and marbled ducks sweep
along the open channels. Then there are the diving-ducks with
harsh corvine croaks, pochards, ferruginous, and tufts, just as
swift as the rest, though of apparently more laboured flight ;
occasionally a string of shelducks, conspicuous by size and con-
102 Unexplored Spain
trasted colouring, and among them all, swing along with leisurely
wing-beats but equal speed, wedge-like skeins of great grey-geese.
A single morning’s bag may include seven or eight different
species, sometimes a dozen.
Now the rim of the sun shows over the distant sierra, and
one begins to see one’s environment and to realise what Las
Nuevas is like. Of Mother Earth as one normally conceives it
not a particle is in sight, beyond such low reeds and miles of
samphire-tops as break the watery surface, and a vista of this
extends to the horizon.
Behind our positions stretched a lucio of open water.
Upon this, a mile away, stood an army of flamingoes, whose
croaks and gabblings filled the still air. During a quiescent
interval I examined these with binoculars. Thereupon I dis-
covered that the whole Jucio around them and stretching away,
say a league in length, was carpeted with legions of duck, which
had not been noticed with the naked eye. The discovery ex-
plained also a resonant reverberation that, at recurring intervals,
I had noticed all the morning, and which I had attributed to
the gallant Cervera’s squadron at quick-firing gun-practice away
in Cadiz Bay. Now I saw the cause; it was due to the duck-
hawks and birds-of-prey! Twice within ten minutes a swooping
marsh-harrier aroused that host on wing—or, say, half-a-mile of
them—to fly in terror; but only to settle a few hundred yards
The Marismas of Guadalquivir 103
farther away. The harrier’s hope was clearly to find a wounded
bird among the crowd—the massed multitude none dared to
tackle.
It is nine o'clock, the pile of dead has mounted up, but the
“flight” is slackening. Already I see our mounted keepers
(who have hitherto stood grouped on an islet two miles away)
separate and ride forth to set the ducks once more in motion.
At this precise moment one remembers two things—both that
wretched breakfast at 3 a.m., and the luxuries that lie at hand,
almost awash among the reeds. Ducks pass by unscathed for
a full half-hour, while such quiet reigns in “No. 1” that tawny
water-shrews climb confidingly up the reeds of my screen.
Meanwhile the efforts of our drivers were becoming apparent in
a renewal of flighting ducks; but we would here emphasise the
fact that these second and artificially-produced flights are never
so effective from a fowler’s point of view as the earlier, natural
movements of the game. For the ducks thus disturbed come,
as the Spanish keepers put it, obligados and not of their own
free-will. Hence they all pass high—many far above gunshot—
and not even the attraction that our fleet of “decoys” (for
we have now stuck up the whole of the morning’s spoils to
deceive their fellows) will induce more than a limited propor-
tion, and those only the smaller bands, to descend from their
aérial altitude.
The “‘ movement” of these masses nevertheless affords another
of those spectacular displays that we must at least try to describe.
For though none of their sky-high armies will pass within
gunshot—or ten gunshots—yet one cannot but be struck with
amazement when the whole vault of heaven above presents a
quivering vision of wings—shaded, seamed, streaked, and spotted
from zenith to horizon. Then the multiplied pulsation of wings is
distinctly perceptible—a singular sensation. One remembers it
when, perhaps an hour later, you become conscious of its recur-
rence. But now the heavens are clear! Nota single flight crosses
the sky—not one, that is, within sight. But up above, beyond
the limits of human vision, there pass unseen hosts, and thevrs is
that pulsation you feel.
The passage of these sky-scrapers is actuated by no puny
manceuvre of ours. They are travellers on through-routes.
Perhaps the last land (or water) they touched was Dutch or
104 Unexplored Spain
Danish ; and they will next alight (within an hour) in Africa.
Already at their altitude they can see, spread out, as it were, at
their feet, the marshes and meres of Morocco.
Although nominally describing that first day in Las Nuevas
(and, so far as facts go, adhering rigidly thereto), yet we are
endeavouring to concentrate in fewest words the actual lessons
of many subsequent years of practical experience. Thus the
pick-up on that day (though it may have numbered a couple
of hundred ducks) we refrain from recording in this attempt to
convey the concrete while avoiding detail.
Back again, splash, splosh, through mud and mire, two
hours’ ride to our camp-fire—a picturesque scene with our marsh-
bred friends gathered round, their tawny faces lurid in the
firelight as flames shoot upwards and pine-cones crack like
pistol-shots; and over the embers hang a score of teal each
impaled on a supple bough. Away beyond there loom like
spectres our horses tethered when silvery moonlight glances
through scattered pines. Things would have been pleasant
indeed had the rain but stopped occasionally. True we had
our tents; but our men slept in the open, each rolled in his
cloak, beneath some sheltering bush.
CHAPTER Ix
WILDFOWL-SHOOTING IN THE MARISMA
ITS PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE
Vast as their aggregations may be, yet wildfowl do not
necessarily
Long before the
breech-loaders—even
merely by virtue of numbers
afford any sort of
certainty to the modern fowler. Half-a-
million may be in view day by day, but
in situations or under conditions where
searce half-a-score can be killed. This
elementary feature is never appreciated
by the uninitiated, nor probably ever will
be, since Hawker’s terse and trenchant
prologue failed to fix it.'
What ‘the Colonel” wrote a century
ago stands equally good to-day; and mutatis
mutandis will probably stand good a
century hence.
authors had appeared on the scene with
before the epoch of Hawker with his
copper-caps and detonators—the Spanish fowlers of the marisma
had already devised means of their own whereby the swarming
wildfowl could be secured by wholesale. As a market venture,
their system of a stalking-horse (called a cabresto) was deadly
in the extreme and interesting to boot, affording unique
opportunity of closely approaching massed wildfowl while still
unconscious of danger. We have spent delightful days crouch-
ing behind these shaggy ponies, and describe the method later.
But this is not a style that at all subserves the aspirations of
the modern gunner, and we here study the problem from his
point of view.
1 See Instructions to Young Sportsmen, by P. Hawker, second edition (1816), pp. 229, 2380.
105
106 Unexplored Spain
The essence of success lies in ascertaining precisely the exact
areas where fowl in quantity are “strongly haunted,” by day and
night, together with their regular lines of flight thence and
thereto. Obviously such exact knowledge in these vast marismas,
devoid of landmarks, demands careful observation, and it must
be remembered that these things change with every change of
weather and water. Having located such well-frequented resorts
or flight-lines, the degree of success will yet depend on the strength
of the “haunt.” It may happen (despite all care) that the
partiality of the fowl for that special spot or route is merely
superficial and evanescent. A dozen shots and they have cleared
out, or altered their course. In the reverse case, so strong may
be their “haunt” that no amount of disturbance entirely drives
them away, and even those that have already been scared by
the sound of shooting will yet return again and again.
By night ducks feed in the slobby shallows and oozes,
but concealed by the samphire- growth which flourishes in
such places. Hence the use of the stancheon-gun is not here
available as in the case of bare, plant-free, tidal flats at home
and elsewhere.
In the dusk the ducks have arrived at these feeding-grounds
in quite small trips or bunches. But as the stars pale towards
the dawn, they depart in larger detachments, often numbering
hundreds in a pack. Still, such are their enormous numbers
that, even so, their shifting armies form an almost continuous
stream in the direction whither they take their course. But
where is that? That is the problem on the solution of which the
fowler’s success depends. We will presume that you have so
solved it. In that case, you will have witnessed, between an
hour before sun-up and half-an-hour thereafter, as marvellous a
procession as the scheme of bird-life can afford.
Let us follow the fowl throughout that matutinal flight.
Away through leagues of empty space they hold their course,
now high in air where vistas of brown samphire loom like land
and might conceal a lurking foe, anon lowering their flight where
sporadic sheets or lanes of open water break the tawny monotony.
Beyond all this, stretching away in open waters like an inland
sea, lies a big lucio. That is their goal. One by one, or in
dozens and scores, the infinite detachments re-unite to splash
WSMV VINSINVIY GRE NT Nit)-NOWMONWIS SEL
Wildfowl-shooting in the Marisma 107
down upon that glassy surface. Within brief minutes the whole
expanse is darkened as with a carpet.
Upon this lucto the assembled ducks command a view for
miles around. Hardly could a water-rat approach unseen. If
the fowl persisted in passing the entire day thereon, no human
power would avail to molest them—they could bid defiance to
fowlers of every race and breed. Two circumstances, however,
favour their human foes. The first is the perpetual disturbance
created among those floating hosts by birds-of-prey. These—
chiefly marsh-harriers, but including also the great black-backed
gulls—execute perpetual “ feints” at the swimming ducks, sections
of which (often thousands strong) are compelled to rise on wing by
the menacing danger. The dominant idea actuating the raptores
(since they are unable to attack the main bodies) is to ascertain
if one or more wounded ducks remain afloat after their sound
companions have cleared—the cripples, of course, affording an
easy prey. The disturbed fowl will not fly far, perhaps half-a-
mile, unless indeed they happen during that flight to catch sight
of an attractive fleet of “decoys” moored in some quiet creek a
mile or so away.
The second favouring circumstance arises from a difference in
habit between ducks in Spain and their relatives (even con-
specific) inhabiting British waters. For whereas the latter, as a
rule, will remain quiescent in their selected resting-places the
livelong day, in Spain, on the contrary, by about 11 a.M., the
force of hunger begins visibly to operate—not in all, but in
sections, which, rising in detachments, separate themselves from
the masses and commence exploratory cruises among the smaller
and shallower lducios where food may be found.’ This inter-
mittent flight slackens off for an hour or so at midday, is
renewed in the afternoon, and stops dead one hour before
sun-down.
To exploit the advantage offered by these habits it is
necessary to ascertain to which of the innumerable minor
lucios these “‘ hunger-marchers” are resorting. Observation will
have decided that point, and our expert gunner now (at 11 A.M.)
be concealed with scrupulous care, and his fleet of, say, fifty
decoys set out in lifelike and (or) attractive attitudes, exactly in
1 In the big and deep Jucios no plant-life exists, nor could surface-feeding ducks reach
down to it even if subaquatic herbage of any kind did grow there.
108 Unexplored Spain
the centre of the particular lagoon, whither, of recent days, the
ducks have been observed to resort in greatest abundance from
noon onwards.
The gunner lies expectant on the cut rushes which strew the
bottom-boards of his cajon—a box-shaped punt some 7 feet long
by 24 broad, which is concealed by being thrust bodily in
the midst of the biggest samphire bush available. The craft
nevertheless is still afloat and, though flat-bottomed, is yet
terribly crank, and any sudden movement to port or starboard
threatens to capsize the entire outfit.
To allay the tense suspicion of flighting wildfowl, several of
the adjacent bushes for fifty yards around have been heightened
by the addition of a cut bough or two—the idea being to induce
a theory among passing ducks merely that this particular spot
seems peculiarly favourable to samphire-growth—that and nothing
more.
In setting up decoys, while many are posed in lifelike
attitudes, it is advisable to hang a few (especially white-plumaged
species, such as pintail, shoveler, and wigeon-drakes) in almost
vertical positions, in order to induce a belief among hungry in-
comers that these birds are “‘turning-up” to feast on abundant
subaquatic plants beneath.
This intermittent flight is naturaliy irregular, hunger
affecting greater or less numbers on different days; but when
it comes off in force affords the cream of wildfowling from
before noon till the sun droops in the west. During the last
hour before he dips not a wing moves.
Duck-shooting thus resolves itself into two main systems:
(1) intercepting the fowl on flight at dawn, and later (2)
awaiting their incoming at expected points.
A good shoot may sometimes be engineered by cutting a
broad ‘“‘ride” through the samphire along some flight-line,
thereby forming an open channel between two lucios. Ducks
which have hitherto flown sky-high in order to cross the danger-
zone will now pass quite low along the new waterway, and even
prefer it to crossing the cover at hazard, however high.
A typical day’s fowling in mid-marisma may be described.
The night has been spent in a reed-built hut charmingly situate
on a mud-islet half-an-acre in extent, and commanding un-
equalled views of flooded and featureless marisma. At 4 a.M. we
Wildfowl-shooting in the Marisma 109
turn out and by the dim light of a lantern embark in a cajon
(punt), serenaded by the croaks and gabbling of flamingoes
somewhere out in the dark waters. My wild companion, Batata,
kneeling in the bows and grasping a punt-pole in either hand,
bends to his work, and away we glide—into the unknown.
A weird feeling it is squatting thus at water-level and
watching the wavelets dance by or dash over our two-inch
free-board. We make but three miles an hour, yet seem to
fly past half-seen water-plants. A myriad stars are reflected on
the still surface ahead, and it is by a single great Lucero (planet)
that our pilot is now steering his course.
Batata presently remarks that we have “arrived.” One
takes his word for this. Still that verb does conditionally imply
some place or spot of arrival. Here there was none—none,
at least, that could be differentiated from any other point or spot
in many circumambient leagues. But this was not an hour
for philological disquisition, so we mentally decide that we
have reached “nowhere.” A few hours later when daylight
discovers our environment, that negation appears sufticiently
proved. There are visible certain objects on the distant horizon.
One—that behind us—proves to be the roof of the choza
wherein we had spent the night—‘“ hull-down” to the eastward.
The others a lengthened scrutiny with prism-binoculars shows
to be a trio of wild camels feeding knee-deep in water. Now
where you see such signs you may conclude you are nowhere.
We skip a few hours, since we have no intention of inflicting
on the reader the details of a morning’s flight-shooting. Suffice
that at 9 a.m. B. reappears poling up in his punt, the spoils
are collected (forty-nine in all, mostly wigeon and teal, with a
few pintail and shoveler and one couple of gadwall), and the
plan for the day discussed. To remain where we were (as this
lucio had yesterday attracted a fairly continuous flight of ducks)
had been our original idea. But a shift of the wind had rendered
a second lucio, distant two miles, a more favourable resort
for to-day, and thither accordingly we set out. Here a new
puesto is promptly prepared and the forty-nine decoys deftly set
out, each supported by a supple wand stuck in the mud below.
Hardly had these preparations been completed, than the inter-
mittent (or secondary) flight had commenced, file after file of
ducks heading up from distant space, wheeling over or dashing
IIO Unexplored Spain
past the seductive decoys. At recurring moments during the
next three or four hours (with blank intervals between) I
enjoyed to the full this most delightful form of wildfowling, so
totally different in practice to all others.
Such is the speed of flighting fowl, such their keenness of
vision and instant perception of danger, that but a momentary
point of time—say the eighth of a second—is available fully
to exploit each chance. Should the gunner rise too quick, the
ducks are beyond the most effective range; yet within a space
not to be measured by figures or words, they will have detected
the fraud, and in a flash have scattered, shooting vertically
upwards like a bunch of sky-rockets.
Two features in the life-history of the duck-kind become
apparent. The first points to the probability that adults pair
for life, and that the mated couples keep together all winter even
when forming component units in a crowd. For when an adult
female is shot from the midst of a pack, the male will almost
invariably accompany her in her fall to the very surface of the
water, and will afterwards circle around, piping disconsolately,
and even return again and again in search of his lost partner.
This applies chiefly to wigeon, but we have frequently observed
the same trait in pintail and occasionally in other species. It is
only the drakes that display this constancy; a bereaved female
continues her flight unheeding.
The feature is most conspicuous when awaiting ducks at their
feeding-grounds (comederos), but it also occurs when shooting on
their flight-lines (correderos) between distant points.
The second singular habit is the custom, particularly among
wigeon, to form what are termed in Spanish magaiionas—
little groups of four to a dozen birds consisting of a single female
with a bevy of males in attendance, flying aimlessly hither
and thither in a compact mass, the drakes constantly calling
and the one female twisting and turning in all directions as
though to avoid their attentions. The magajionas appear blind
to all sense of danger, and will pass within easy range even
though a gunner be fully exposed. Not only this, but a first
shot may easily account for half-a-dozen, and should the hen be
among the fallen, the survivors will come round again and again
in search of her. We have known whole magajionas to be
secured within a few minutes.
Wildtow]l-shooting in the Marisma 111
Other species also form magafonas, but more rarely and
never in sO conspicuous a manner as the wigeon. The habit
certainly springs from what we have elsewhere termed a “‘ pseudo-
erotic” instinct (see Bird-life of the Borders, 2nd ed., pp. 208,
234-5), and is probably the first pairing of birds which have just
then reached full maturity.
From mid-February to the end of March ducks are constantly
departing northwards whenever conditions favour, to wit, a
south-west wind in the afternoon, which wind is a feature of the
season. Their vacant places are at once filled by an equally
constant succession of arrivals from the south (Africa), easily
recognised by rusty stains on their lower plumage (denoting
ferruginous water) which they lose here within a few days.
Ducks at this season can find food everywhere in the
manzanilla, or camomile, which now grows up from the bottom
and in places covers the shallows with its white, buttercup-like
flowers. Having food everywhere there is less necessity to fly
in search of it. It is, however, a curious feature of the season
that, after the morning-flight (which is shorter than in mid-
winter), ducks practically suspend all movement from, say, 8 A.M.
till the daily sea-breeze (Viento de la mar) springs up about
1 p.m. During these five hours not a wing moves, but no sooner
has the sea-breeze set in than constant, streams of ducks fly in
successive detachments from the large open /uczos to the shallower
feeding-grounds. Thus we have known a late February “bag,”
which at 2 p.m. had numbered but a miserable half-score, mount
up before dusk to little short of a hundred.
Wigeon arrive from the end of September onwards, the great
influx occurring during the first fortnight of November. They
commence leaving from mid-February, and by the end of March
all (save a few belated stragglers) are gone.
The same remarks apply equally to pintail, shoveler, and teal,
though, as before remarked, pintail often appear exceptionally
early—in September,—and are again extremely conspicuous
(after being scarce all winter) on their return journey—de vuelta
paso, as it is called—in February.
Gadwall, preferring deep waters, are not numerous in the
112 Unexplored Spain
shallow marisma. A big bag thereim, nevertheless, will always
include a few couples of this species.
Shoveler are so numerous that we have known over eighty
bagged by one gun in a day.
Garganey chiefly occur in early autumn and again de vuelta
paso in March. They winter in Africa.
Marbled duck breed here, and in September large bags may
be made; but in mid-winter (when they have retired to Africa)
it is rare to secure more than half-a-dozen or so in a day. They
are very bad eating.
Shelduck only occur in dry seasons. They fall easy victims
to any sort of “decoy” provided it is whzte. A local fowler told
us he had killed many by substituting (in default of natural
decoys) the dry bones and skulls of cattle! Ruddy shelduck do
not frequent the marisma, preferring the sweeter waters and
shallows adjoining Dofana.
Diving-ducks avoid the marisma except only in the wettest
winters.
An hour before sun-down, as above stated, all bird-movement
ceases. For a brief space absolute tranquillity reigns over the
illimitable marisma. The dusky masses that cover the lucios
seem lulled to sleep and silence. But the interlude is very
temporary. Hardly has night thrown her mantle across the
wastes, than all that tremendous, eager, vital energy is re-
awakened to fresh activities. A striking and a memorable
experience will be gained by awaiting that exact hour at some
favourite feeding-ground. Within a few minutes, as darkness
deepens, the ambient air fairly hisses and surges with the
pulsation of thousand strong pinions hurtling close by one’s ear,
and with the splash of heavy bodies flung down by fifties
and hundreds in the shallows almost within arm’s-length—the
nearest approximation that occurs to us is a bombardment of
pompoms. Yet, for all that, night-flighting in the marisma
(having regard to the quantities concerned) produces but insigni-
ficant results. The ducks come in so low and so direct—no
preliminary circling overhead—and at such velocity that this
flight-shooting may be likened to an attempt to hit cannon-balls
in the dark. Our expert shots score, say, eight or ten, but what is
that? The nocturnal disturbance, moreover, may be (and usually
Wildfowl-shooting in the Marisma 113
is) prejudicial to the next day’s operations, and it is clearly not
worth the risk, for half-a-dozen shots in the twilight, to discount
a hundred at dawn.
The fewer shots ducks hear, the better. Never disturb them
unless you have every reasonable prospect of exacting a propor-
tionate toll.
CHAPTER X
WILD-GEESE IN SPAIN
THEIR SPECIES, HAUNTS, AND HABITS
To Spain, as to other lands that remain unaltered and “ unim-
proved,” resort the greylag geese in thousands to pass the winter.
‘In our marismas of the Guadalquivir they appear during
the last days of September, but it is a month later ere their
full numbers are made up, and from that date until the end
of February their defiant multitudes and the splendid diffi-
culties of their pursuit afford a unique form and degree of wild
sport perhaps unknown outside of Spain.
Ride through the marisma in November; it is mostly dry,
and autumn rains have merely refreshed the sun-baked alluvia and
formed sporadic shallows, or luczos as they are here termed. That
lucio straight ahead is a mile across, yet it is literally tessellated
with a sonorous crowd. With binoculars one distinguishes
similar scenes beyond; the intervening space—and indeed the
whole marisma—is crowded with geese as thickly as it is on
our immediate front. To right and left rise fresh armies hitherto
concealed among the armayo, till the very earth seems in process
of upheaval, while the air resounds with a volume of voices—
gabblings, croaks, and shrill bi-tones mingled with the rumble of
beating wings.
Amid the islands of the Norwegian Skaargaard one can see
geese in bulk, but there their numbers are distributed over a
thousand miles of coast. Here we have them all—or a large
proportion—concentrated in what is by comparison but a narrow
space.
In their life-habits these geese are strictly diurnal, that is,
they feed by day—chiefly in the early morning and again towards
afternoon, with a mid-day interval of rest. The night they spend
114
Wild-Geese in Spain 115
asleep on some broad /ucio or other bare open space. That habit,
however, is subject to modification during the periods of full
moon, when many geese avail themselves of her brilliant light
to feed in even greater security than they can enjoy by day.
Their food consists exclusively of vegetable substances—at first
of the remnants of the summer's herbage, such as green ribbon-
grass (canaliza), and other semi-aquatic plants;
their main sustenance in mid-winter consists of
the tuber-bearing roots of spear-grass (Cyperus
longus and C. rotundus) which they dig up
from the ground.
When autumn rains are long delayed, their
voracious armies will already have consumed
every green thing that remains in the parched
marismas long before the ‘new water” from
the heavens shall have furnished new feeding-
grounds. In such cases the geese are forced
to depart, and do so—so far as our observation
goes—in the direction of Morocco; returning
thence (within a few hours) immediately after
rain has fallen. Their entry, on this second
arrival, is invariably from the south and south-
west—that is, from the sea.
There are three methods of shooting wild-
geese in the Spanish marismas which may here
be specified, to wit :—
(1) Morning-flight, when the geese habitu-
ally come to “take sand” at the dawn. See ?
next chapter. ROOT OF SPEAR-
(2) “Driving” during the day: (available GRASS
only in dry years).
(3) Awaiting their arrival at dusk at their dormideros, or
sleeping-places, see pp. 97, 98.
An all-important factor in their pursuit arises from an
economic necessity with wild-geese constantly to possess, and
frequently to renew, a store of sand or grit in their gizzards.
To obtain this they resort every morning to certain sandy spots
in the marismas (hereinafter described, and which are known as
vetas); or failing that, when the said vetas are submerged, to
the sand-dunes outside. Although great numbers of geese resort
116 Unexplored Spain
each morning to these spots, yet those numbers are but a small
proportion of their entire aggregate, for no individual goose needs
to replenish his supply of sand or grit more often than perhaps
once a week, or even less frequently. Hence at each dawn it is a
fresh contingent of geese that comes in para arendrse = to “sand
themselves,” as our keepers put it.
One other quality in the natural economy of wild-geese
requires mention—that is, their sense of scent. This defence
wild-geese possess in equal degree with wild-ducks and most
other wild creatures; but each class differ in their modes of
utilising it.
For whereas ducks on detecting human scent will take instant
alarm and depart afar on that indication alone; yet geese, on
the other hand, though their nostrils have fully advised them of
the presence of danger, will not at once take wing, but remain—
with necks erect and all eyes concentrated towards the suspect
point—awaiting confirmation by sight what they already know
by scent.
That such is the case we ascertained in the days (now long
past) when we ventured to stalk geese with no more covert than
the low fringe of rush that borders the marisma. ‘“‘ Gatiando”
=cat-crouching, our keepers term the method—laborious work,
creeping flat for, it may be, 200 yards, through sloppy mud with
less than two-foot of cover. Should it become necessary during
the stalk to go directly to windward of the fowl, one’s presence
(though quite unseen) would be instantly detected. The geese,
ceasing to feed or rest, all stood to attention, while low, rumbling
alarm-signals resounded along their lines. But they did not
take wing. Presently, however, one reached a gap in the thickly
growing rushes—it might not extend to a yard in width, yet
no sooner was but a glimpse available to the keen eyes beyond,
than the whole pack rose in simultaneous clatter of throats
and wings. They had merely waited that scintilla of ocular
confirmation of a known danger.
“DRIVING” (IN A Dry SzEason)
For four months no rain had fallen. The parched earth
gaped with cavernous cracks; vegetation was dried up; starving
cattle stood about listless, and every day one saw the assembled
vultures devouring the carcases of those already dead.
Wild-Geese in Spain 117
From the turrets of our shooting-lodge one’s eye surveyed—no
longer an inland sea, but a monotone of sun-baked mud ; inspec-
tion through binoculars revealed the fact that this whole space
was dotted with troops of well, a friend who was with us
thought they were sheep; but which, in fact, were bands of
greylag geese.
The fluctuations of Spanish seasons—varying from Noachian
deluge to Saharan drought—necessarily react upon the habits of
wildfowl. These changes are one of the charms of the country ;
at any rate, they “stretch out” the fowler to devise some new
thing.
Those battalions of greylags posted out there on a vantage-
ground where a mouse garcia.
might be a prominent ob- \ fa
ject at 100 yards, how can X,
they be reduced to posses- P ae
. . : STOP O
sion? Our friend aforesaid _ ae site. A
replies that theundertaking = “ST a i
appears humanly impos- \ wae f
sible. We have, neverthe- ~ Ba I
less, elaborated a system \ ae
of driving, by which in Poke ee
dry years the greylag
geese may be obtained with some degree of certainty.
This morning (the last of January) we rode forth, four guns
and four keepers, across that plain. Upon approaching the pack
of geese selected, one keeper rides to a position rather above
the “ half-wind ” line, and there halts as a “stop.”” The remaining
seven ride on till, at a silent signal, No. 1 gun, without checking
his horse, passes the bridle forward and rolls out of the saddle with
gun and gear, lying at once flat as a flounder on the bare dry
mud. At intervals of eighty yards each successive gun does the
same, the four being now extended in a half-moon that commands
nearly a quarter-mile of space. The three keepers (leading the
other horses) continue riding forward in circular course till a
second “stop” is placed in the right flank corresponding with
the one already posted on the left. The last pair now complete
the circuit by riding round to windward of the game, separating
by 200 yards as that position is attained. (See diagram.)
How are these four guns to conceal themselves on perfectly
118 Unexplored Spain
bare ground from the telescopic sight of wild-geese? Occasionally,
some small natural advantage may be found—such as tufts of
rushes—and these are at once availed of. But this morning
there is no such aid. Not a rush nor a mole-hill breaks that
dead-level monotone for miles; and in such condition a human
being, however flat he may lie, is bound to be detected by the
keen-eyed geese long ere they arrive within shot.’ A dozen twigs
of tree-heath, dipped in wet mud and then allowed to dry, so as
to harmonise in colour with the surroundings, may be utilised ;
but the annexed sketch shows better than words a portable
screen we have devised and which fulfils this purpose. It consists
of four bamboo sticks two feet long, sharpened at the point, and
connected by four or five strings with one-foot intervals. This
when rolled up forms a bundle no thicker than an umbrella.
SHELTERS FOR DRIVING WILD-GEESE
On reaching one’s post the bundle unrolls of itself, the sharpened
points are stuck into the ground at an angle sloping towards the
prostrate gun, a few tufts of dead grass (carried in one’s pocket)
are woven through the strings and the shelter is complete.
Needless to say, these preparations must be carried out with the
minimum of movement in face of such vigilant foes. Some
assistance, however, accrues from the geese continuing to watch
the moving file of horsemen while the prostrate gunner erects
his screen.
Well, the circle being complete, all four drivers (distant now,
say, 1000 yards) converge on the common centre. The watchful
geese have ceased grubbing up the spear-grass, and now stand
1 We have here in our mind’s eye our own shooting-grounds in the Betican marismas.
But there are other regions in Andalucia where geese feed on open grassy plains on which
shelter of some sort is often available. It may be but a clump of dead thistles or wild
asparagus ; but at happy times a friendly ditch or dry watercourse will yield quite a decent
hollow where one can hide in comparative comfort and security. On the day here described
no such ‘‘advantage”’ befriended.
Wild-Geese in Spain 11g
alert with a forest of necks erect, while an increasing volume
of gabbling attests their growing suspicion. Presently, with
redoubled outcry, they rise on wing, and now commences the real
science of our Spanish fowlers. The guns, after all, command
but a small segment of the circle—anywhere else the geese can
break out scathless—and this mischance it is the object of our
drivers and flankers to avert. No sooner does the gaggling band
shift its course to port or starboard than the “stop” on that
side is seen to be urging his horse in full career to intercept their
flight, yet using such judgment as will neither deflect their course
too much or turn them back altogether. Sometimes both flankers
and drivers are seen to be engaged at once, and a pretty sight
it is to the prostrate gunners to watch the equestrian manceuvres.
Presently the whole band head away for what appears the
only available outlet, and should they then pass directly over one
or other of the guns, are seldom so high but that a pair should
be secured right-and-left.
In strong gales of wind the geese, on being driven, are apt,
instead of taking a direct course, to circle around in revolving
flight, gaining altitude at each revolution; and in such case not
only come in very high but at incredible speed—mas lejeros que
zarcetas—swifter than teal, as Vasquez puts it.
The first essential of success in driving wild-geese (and the
same applies to great bustard and all large winged game) is to
instal the firing-line as near as may be without disturbing the
fowl. The more remote the guns the greater the difficulty in
forcing the game through the crucial pass.
To manceuvre single bands of geese as above, three or four
guns at most, with the same number of drivers, are best. A
great crowd of horsemen (such being never seen in these wilds)
unduly arouses suspicions already acute enough. With any
greater number of guns, it is advisable to extend the field of
operations to, say, two or three miles, thereby enclosing several
troops of geese—this requiring a large force of drivers. It does
not, however, follow that each of these enclosed troops will
“enter” to the guns; for should one pack come in advance, the
firing will turn back the others. This mischance—or rather
bungle—may be averted (or may not) by the leading driver
firing a blank shot behind so soon as the first geese are seen to
have taken wing. Needless to remark, once a shot has been fired
120 Unexplored Spain
ahead, it becomes tenfold harder to force the remaining geese to
the guns.
Each gun should hold his fire till the main bodies of geese
are well on wing and seen to be heading in towards the shooting-
line. The “best possible” chances are thus secured, and not
for one gun only, but quite possibly for all, as several hundred
geese pass down the line. A premature shot, on the contrary,
will ruin the best-planned drive, and bring down merited abuse
from the rest of the party with scathing contempt from the
drivers.
Taking single troops at a time, as many as six or eight
separate drives may be worked into a long day. Our first drive
to-day produced three geese, the second was blank, while five
greylags rewarded the third attempt. In the last instance
three of the guns received welcome aid from a string of ojos,
or land-springs, around which grew a fringe of green rushes,
affording excellent cover.
By four o'clock we had secured, in five drives, eleven geese
and a wigeon. We then, on information received, changing our
plan, rode off to a point which the keeper of that district had
noted was being used by the geese as a dormidero, or sleeping-
place; and here, as dusk fell, an hour’s “flighting” added six
more greylags to that day’s total.
The above may be put down as a fair average day’s results
in a dry season. From a dozen to a score of driven geese (and
occasionally many more) represent, with such game as greylags,
a degree and a quality of sport that is ill-represented by cold
numerals.
There are spots in the marisma where the configuration of
the shore-line enables the flight of the geese, when disturbed,
to be foretold with certainty. For geese will not cross dry
land: their retreat is always to the open waters. In such
situations excellent results accrue from placing the gun-line at a
right angle to the expected line of flight, while all the “ beaters,”
save one or two to flush the fowl, are stationed as “stops”
between the geese and their objective. On rising, the birds thus
find themselves confronted by a long line of horsemen who
intercept their natural retreat, and, in effect, force them back
towards the land. Should the operation be well executed, the
landmost gun will probably be the first to fire; while the geese
Wild-Geese in Spain I21
thereafter pass down the entire line of guns, possibly affording
shots to each in turn.
Two guns can then be effectively brought into action.
Needless to add, the second must be handled with the utmost
rapidity.
In wet winters, when the marisma is submerged, “driving”
is not available. Obviously you cannot place a line of guns,
however keen, in six inches of water, much less in half-a-yard.
My first impression of wild-goose driving (writes J.) was one of
wonder that such intensely astute and wide-awake fowl would ever fly
near, much less over so obvious a danger as the little loose semicircle of
rosemary twigs behind which I lay prone on the barest of bare mud.
Peering through between their naked stalks, I could plainly see the geese
some half-mile away, and it seemed incredible that I should not be
equally visible to them. Possibly the brown leaves on top of the twigs
may have concealed me from the loftier anserine point of view, and the
equestrian manceuvres beyond no doubt greatly aided the object. Any-
way, the whole pack—three or four hundred, and proportionally noisy—
did come right over me, and a wildly exciting moment it was, I can assure
you! We had six or seven drives that day, and bagged twenty-eight
splendid great grey geese, of which eight fell to my lot.
I may perhaps be allowed to add (since such details are taken for
granted, or regarded as unworthy of note by regular gunners of the
marisma) that to-day we had no less than six times to cross and recross
a broad marsh-channel called the Madre—floundering, splashing, slither-
ing, and stumbling through 100 yards of mud and water full three-
foot deep. It may be nothing (if you’re used to it), yet twice I’ve seen
horses go down, and their riders take a cold bath, lucky if they didn’t
broach their barrels! To follow Vasquez about the marisma is a job
that requires special qualities that not all of us possess or (perchance
fortunately ?) require to possess.
The following instructions may be worth the attention of new
beginners :—
(1) Never fire till you are fairly certain to kill at least one.
(2) Never rise or even move in your “hide” till the beat is
entirely finished.
(3) Reload at once; when big lots are being moved, two,
three, or more chances may offer quite unexpectedly.
(4) Wear suitably coloured clothes and head-gear, and never
let the sun glint on the gun-barrels.
(5) After firing, watch the departing geese till nearly out of
122 Unexplored Spain
sight. Though apparently unhurt, one of their company may
turn over, stone-dead, in the distance.
“ FLIGHTING “—-AN INCIDENT oF A Dry SEASON
The day above described was selected, not only because it
affords a typical illustration of our theme, but also because there
had occurred during its course an extraneous incident which
serves to amplify this exposition of the pursuit of the greylag
goose.
Riding across the marisma, certain signs at once filled
both our minds with fresh ideas. All around the ground was
littered with cast feathers and other evidence proclaiming that
this special spot was a regular resort of geese. We were crossing
one of those slightly raised ridges of sand and grit which here and
there intersect, the otherwise universal dead-level of alluvial mud,
and which ridges are known locally as vetas—tongues.
Now the nutritive economy of wild-geese, as already explained,
requires a frequently replenished store of sand or grit. In wet
seasons (the marisma being then submerged) the geese resort to:
the adjoining sand-dunes of Dofiana to secure these supplies.
But in dry winters they are enabled to obtain the necessary
sand from these vetas; and it was to this particular spot that,
to the number of many hundreds, the geese were evidently resort-
ing at this period.
At once the measure of opportunity was gauged, and the
arrangements necessary for its exploitation were made. Within
three minutes a messenger was galloping homewards to summon
a couple of men with spades and buckets to prepare a hole
wherein one of us might lie concealed at daybreak. A pannier-
mule to carry away the excavated material was also requisitioned,
since the least visible change in the earth’s surface would instantly
be recognised by the geese as a danger-signal. Within a few
minutes we had resumed our course, to continue the day’s sport.
Next morning half an hour before dawn the writer reached
the spot. It was pitch-dark and a dense fog prevailed. By
what mental process my guides directed an unerring course to
that lonely hole in the midst of a pathless and practically bound-
less waste passes understanding. Such piloting (without aid
of compass or even of the heavenly bodies—the usual index on
VINSINVIY GILL NTS )VUAY
Wild-Geese in Spain 123
which marshmen rely) seems to indicate a point where intellect
and instinct touch; or perhaps rather a survival of the latter
quality which, in modern races, has become obsolete through
disuse. Among savage races that faculty of instinct is markedly
prominent, indeed the master-force ; but there it has been acquired
(or retained) at the cost of intellect, which is not the case with
our Spanish friends—they possess both qualities. But place the
best intellects of Madrid, or Paris, or London in such conditions
—in darkness, or fog, or in viewless forest—and not one could
hold a straight course for half-a-mile. Within ten minutes each
man would be lost, devoid of all sense of direction. That is
part of the price of the higher civilisation—the loss of a faculty
which need not clash with any other. Of course where people
live with a telephone at their ear, with electric trams and
“tubes” close at hand, where a whistle will summon an attendant
hansom and two a taxi-meter—or, as Punch suggested, three
may bring down an airship—well, in such case, those modern
“advantages” may be held to outweigh the loss of a primitive
natural faculty.
Hardly had a tardy light begun to strengthen to the dawn
than the soft, soliloquising ‘‘ Gagga, gagga, gagga,” with alterna-
tively the raucous “ Honk-honk,” resounded afar through the
gloom. From seven o’clock onwards geese were flying close
around—so near that the rustling of strong wings sounded almost
within arm’s-length; but that opaque fog held unbroken and
nothing could be seen. Long before eight I resolved to quit and
leave the fowl undisturbed for another morning rather than
open fire at so late an hour. Having a compass, I steered a
good line to the point where the horses awaited me, a mile away.
The following morning again broke foggy, though not quite
so thick ; still I had only five geese at eight o’clock, when three
packs coming well in, in rapid succession, afforded three gratify-
ing doubles. Total, eleven geese.
Leaving the geese a few mornings’ peace, on February 5
the authors together occupied that hole at dawn. It proved
a brilliant morning with a fine show of geese. As each pack
came in, we took it in turns to give the word whether to fire
or not. In the negative case, our eyes sank gently below the
surface of the earth, and crouching down we heard the rush of
wind-splitting pinions pass over and behind—probably to offer
Lon Unexplored Spain
a fairer mark when they next wheeled round. Then two, and
often three, great geese came hurtling downwards, to fall with
resounding thuds behind. Few mistakes occurred this morning
and scarce a chance was missed. But never could we succeed
in working-in the two doubles at once! The cramped space
forbade that. The hole, having been dug for one, gave no freedom
of action for two guns; its floor, moreover, had now become a
compound of sticky glutinous clay a foot deep, and that further
hampered movements. Only one gun could work the second
barrel.
After each shot, one of us jumped out and propped up the
fallen geese as decoys. To leave them lying about all-ends-up
has a disastrous effect.
Ere the “flight” ceased we had five-and-twenty greylags
down around our hide, besides several others that had fallen at
some distance, duly marked by the keepers who now galloped off
to gather these—say two mule-loads of geese. The discovery
of that lonely ‘‘ sanding-place ” had had a concrete reward.
1) f ]
Wi Ty fy
/ it Gh
CHAPTER XI
WILD-GEESE ON THE SAND-HILLS
FLANKING the marisma and separating it from the dry lands of
Dofiana, there rises rampart-like a swelling range of dunes—the
biggest thing in the sand line we have seen on earth. For
miles extend these mountains of sand, unbroken by vestige of
vegetation or any object to relieve one’s eyesight, dazzled—aye,
blinded—by that brilliantly scintillating surface, set off in vivid
contrast by the azure vault above.
Should a stranger, on first seeing those buttressed dunes,
be seriously informed that their naked summits constitute a
favourite resort of wild-geese, he might reasonably suspect his
informant’s sanity, or at least wonder whether his own credulity
were not being tested. Yet such is the fact—one of the surprises
that befall in Spain, the pays de Pimprévu.
The paradox is explained by the stated necessity in wild-
geese to furnish their gizzards with store of grit or sand for
digestive purposes.
This supply, so long as the marisma is dry, they are able
to obtain from those raised ridges of calcareous debris (already
described, and known locally as vetas) which here and there
outcrop from the alluvial wastes. But when winter rains and
floods have submerged the whole region and thus deprived the
fowl of that local resource, they are forced to rely upon the
sand-dunes aforesaid and to substitute pure sea-sand for their
former specific of calcareous grit or disintegrated shells. To
the sand-dunes, therefore, in the cold bright mornings between
October and February, the skeins of greylag geese may be seen
directing their course in successive files, in order, as the Spanish
put it, “to sand themselves” (arendrse).
A notable fact (and one favourable to the fowler) is that,
though these dunes extend for miles, yet the geese select
125
126 Unexplored Spain
certain limited areas—or, to be precise, the summits of two
particular hills—for alighting, and this despite their being
regularly shot thereat, year after year.
With the first sign of dawn the earlier arrivals will be heard
approaching ; but the bulk of the geese come in about sun-up
and onwards till 9 a.m. Geese arriving high (having come pre-
sumably from a distance) will sometimes, after a preliminary wheel,
suddenly collapse in mid-air, diving and shooting earthwards in
a score of curving lines—as teal do, or tumbler-pigeons; but
with these heavy fowl the manceuvre is executed with surprising
grace and command of wing. Their numbers vary on different
mornings without any apparent cause; but it may be laid down
as a general rule that more will come on clear bright mornings
than when the dawn is overcast, while rain proves (as in all
wildfowling) an upsetting factor. Sometimes, even on favourable
mornings, no geese appear. Occasionally, in small numbers, they
may visit the sand in afternoon.
To exploit the advantage afforded by this habit of the geese,
it is necessary that the fowler be concealed before dawn in a hole
dug for the purpose in the sand—care being taken to utilise any
natural concealment, such as a depression flanked by a steep
sand-revetment ; so that, at least from one quarter, the geese
may perceive no danger till right over the gun. The hole (or
holes, but one is best) must be dug at least twelve hours before,
or the newly turned sand will show up dark. Were it not for
the risk of wind filling them up with driving sand (a matter of an
hour or two), the holes might well be prepared two or even three
days beforehand. The excavated material is piled up around
the periphery and flattened down smooth, thus forming a raised
rampart which screens the suspicious darkness of the interior.
Needless to say, the fewer human footprints around the spot,
the better.
Such is the inability exhibited by many sportsmen (not
being wildfowlers) to conceal their persons—or even to recognise
the virtue of concealment—that, for such, the holes are apt to be
made too big, and the geese swerve off at sight of those gaping
pits. This indeed is a form of sport that none save wild-
fowlers need essay—others merely succeed in thwarting the whole
enterprise.
However carefully prepared and skilfully occupied, these holes
Wild-Geese on the Sand-hills 127
(dug in naked sand) must obviously be visible enough to the
keen sight of incoming greylags. One such hole (when backed
up by well-placed decoys) the geese may almost ignore; two they
distrust; while three inspire something approaching panic.
Consequently a single craftsman who knows his business and
bides his time will shoot, under the most favourable cireum-
stances, at almost every successive band of geese that means
alighting. Two guns, in full sympathy with each other, may
effectually combine by occupying holes dug at some fifty yards
apart and with a single set of decoys set midway between for
mutual use. Thus there can be secured fair, frequent, and almost
simultaneous shots.
It is essential to bear in mind the fact that the geese have
come with the intention (unless prematurely alarmed) of alight-
ing. Hence, as they often circle two or three times around
before finally deciding, a judicious refusal of all uncertain chances
has a concrete reward when, a few seconds later, the pack sweep
overhead at half gunshot. The first element of success lies in
concealment; the second in ever allowing the geese to come
in to such close quarters as renders the shot a certainty.
Greylag geese are, of course, huge birds, very strong,
and impenetrable as ironclads. But to tyros (and many others)
in the early light they are apt to appear much larger, and
consequently much nearer, than is actually the case. All this
has, the night before, been impressed upon our friend, the tyro, in
solemn, even tragic tones. The urgency of the thing seems to
have been graven deep on the very tissues of his brain, and he
promises with earnest humility to bear the lesson in mind when
the vital moment shall arrive; to deny himself all but point-
blank shots well within thirty yards, whereby he will not only
himself assist to swell the score, but enable his companion to do
likewise.
Words fail to describe that companion’s frame of mind at the
dawn, when, despite over-night exhortations and assurances, he
sees to his horror pack after pack of incoming geese (some of
which he has himself let pass within forty yards) ‘“‘ blazed at” at
mad and reckless ranges by that wretched scarecrow who never
ruffles a feather and afterwards tries to excuse his failure by
enlarging on “the extreme height the geese came in at!” .
These goose-hills, it may here appropriately be stated, lie
128 Unexplored Spain
midway between our two shooting-lodges and distant between
two and three hours’ ride from either. Thus every morning’s
goose-shooting presupposes some fairly arduous work. It means
being in the saddle by 4 a.m. with its resultant discomforts and
a long scrambling ride in the dark. Hence the disgust is
proportionate when all that work is thrown away in such insane
style. Never again for any tyro on earth, though he be our
dearest friend, never will the authors turn out at 3 a.m., abusing
with clattering hoof the silence and repose of midnight watch and
the hours designed for rest—never again, unless alone or with a
known and reliable companion.
A word now as to the “decoys.” These, in design, are
American—first observed and brought across from Chicago—cut
out of block-tin, formed and painted to resemble a grey-goose.
Geese being gregarious by nature are peculiarly susceptible to
the attractions of decoys. Hence these tin geese have a mar-
vellous effect when silhouetted on the skyline of a sand-ridge, being
conspicuous for enormous distances and the only “living” objects
on miles of desert. They are most deadly before sunrise, after
which they are apt to glint too much despite a coating of dried
mud. As daylight broadens, incoming geese are apt to be
disconcerted at losing sight of their supposed friends, which event
must occur as each decoy falls end-on—one can interpret the
hurried queries and expletives of the puzzled phalanx at that
mysterious disappearance! For these reasons it is desirable
as soon as possible to supplement the decoys with, and finally to
substitute for them, the real article, that is, the newly shot geese,
set up in life-like attitudes by aid of twigs brought for the
purpose. Fallen birds must, in any case, be set up as fast as
gathered ; if left spread-eagled as they fell, inevitably the next
comers are scared. The more numerous and life-like the decoys,
the more certain are the geese to come in with confidence and
security.
Naturally great care must be used in getting into and out
of one’s hide to avoid breaking down its loose and crumbling
substance. But it is of first importance quickly to gather and
prop up the dead. A winged goose walking away should be
stopped with a charge of No. 6 in the head.
As illustrating the life-like ettect produced by our tin decoys,
on one occasion a friend, after firing both barrels, was watching
Wild-Geese on the Sand-hills 129
a wounded goose, when a strange sound behind attracted his
attention. On looking round, a fox was seen to have sprung
upon one of the tin geese! That a fox, with his keen intuition
and knowledge of things, should have considered it worth his
while to stalk wild-geese (even of flesh and blood) on that naked
expanse seems incredible. The fact remains that he did it!
Strange indeed are the sensations evoked by that silent watch
before day-dawn, in expectation of what truly appears incredible!
Buried virtually in a desert of sand the fowler has nothing in
sight beyond the dark dunes and a star-spangled sky overhead.
WILD-GEESE ALIGHTING ON THE SAND-HILLS
For his hide is cunningly hidden in a slight depression with a
hanging buttress on two sides.
Several hundred yards away, concealed under stunted pines,
stand our horses, while the men cower round a small fire, for we
have had a biting cold two-hours’ ride, and freezing to boot.
Half-a-mile away on the other side —the east —begins the
marisma, though hidden from view by the waves of rolling sand
that intervene.
Now a faint glint of light gleams on the tin decoys and
foretells the coming dawn. Five more minutes elapse, and
then . . . that low deep-toned anserine call-note, instinct with
K
130 Unexplored Spain
concentrated caution—“ Gagga, gagga, gagea, gagga”—-sets pulses
and nerves on fuller stretch. This pack proves to be but an
advance-guard ; for this is one of those thrice-blessed mornings
for which we pray! The geese come in thick and fast in successive
bands of six or eight to a score, and all beautifully timed, with
exactly the correct interval between. The fowler is a craftsman,
a master of his art, and, moreover, he is all alone. Hence he can
to-day await the psychological moment with patience and absolute
confidence. Rarely in such circumstances is trigger touched in
vain; not seldom has the second gun been brought into action
with good, thrice with double effect. No simple achievement
is this, when fowl vanish swift and ghost-like into space; for,
remember, guns must be exchanged with due deliberateness else
shifting sand in an instant fills the breech and clogs the actions.
Thrice has the double carambola been brought off, and now comes
the prettiest shot of all—five geese swing past, head up for the
decoys, and pass full broadside at deadliest range; they are barely
twenty yards away. In all but simultaneous pairs fall four of
their company on the sand—all four stone dead ; and but a single
survivor wings away to bear news of the catastrophe to his fellows
in the marisma!
It is 8 aM., and the tin decoys are now entirely replaced
by geese of flesh and feather, with the fatal result that each
successive pack now enters with fullest confidence, so that by
doubles and trebles the score mounts fast during the fleeting
minutes that yet remain.
Before nine o'clock the flight has ceased. It only remains
to gather those birds which have fallen afar—and which have
been marked by the keepers from their points of vantage—and to
follow by their spoor on the sand such winged geese as may have
departed on foot. Some of these will be overtaken, those that
have concealed themselves in the nearest rush-beds; but should
any have passed on and gained the stronghold of the marisma,
they are lost.
Such is an ideal morning’s work, one of those rare rewards
of patience and skill that occur from time to time. Far
differently may the event fall out. There are mornings when
scarce once will that weird forewarning note, “Gagga, gagga,”
rejoice the expectant ear with harsh music, when no chain-like
skeins dot and serry the eastern skies, or ever a greylag appears
Wild-Geese on the Sand-hills 131
to remember his wonted haunts. We do not complain, much
less despair. Such are the underlying, fundamental conditions
of wildfowling in all lands. To a nature-lover the wildness of
the scene, with its unique conditions and environment are ever
sufficient reward.
Roughly speaking, from a dozen to a score of geese may be
reckoned as a fair average morning’s work for one gun. The
following figures, selected from our game-books, indicate the
degree of success that rewards exceptional skill. In each instance
they apply to but one fowler, though two guns (12-bores) may
have been employed.
1908. Remarks,
Dec. 4. 29 geese. Later in day, shot 46 ducks in the marisma close by.
Dec. 5. 51 geese. Later, shot 25 ducks, 16 snipe.—B. F. B.
1904.
Nov. 27. 27 geese. (A second gunner shot but three.)
Nov. 30. 52 geese.
1903.
Jan. 9. 23 geese. Westerly gale kept filling hole with sand; half my time
spent in new excavation.—W. J. B.
1908.
Dec. 7. Three guns on sand-hills, 4+ 7+ 22=33 geese.
Dec. 10. 42 geese. Shots fired, 44. Later in day, shot 55 ducks, 3 snipe = 100
head.—B. F. B.
1909.
Jan. 8. 38 geese.
Jan. 19. 59 geese. The record.—(B. F. B.)
Dec. 29. H.M. King Alfonso XIII, 6 geese; Marg. de Viana, 5=11
geese (an unfavourable morning).
1910.
Jan, 7. Two guns (second at Caiio de la Casquera), 12 + 28 = 40 geese.
Jan. 8. 238 geese.
Possibly the larger totals are unsurpassed in the world’s
records. By way of contrast we append what may perchance
be discovered in the note-book of the veracious tyro :—
Went out three mornings at three, emptied three cartridge-bags at
ridiculous ranges, fluked three geese, and scared three thousand.
INSTRUCTIONS IN SHOOTING WILD-GEESE
Where the main object is close quarters, ordinary 12-bore
guns suffice. But since geese are very strong and heavily clad,
large shot is a necessity, say No. 1.
Thirty to thirty-five yards should be regarded as the outside
range, with forty yards as an extreme limit. The latter, however,
T32 Unexplored Spain
should only be attempted in exceptional cases, and never when
shooting in company.
Should two guns be employed, the case of the second is, of
course, different. It may be loaded with larger shot—say AAA—
which is effective up to fifty yards.
The speed of geese (like that of bustards) is extremely
deceptive—as much so as their apparent nearness when really
far out of shot. When in full flight geese travel as fast as ducks
or as driven grouse, though their relatively slow wing-beats give
a totally false impression thereof. It is a safe rule for beginners
to allow double that forward swing of the gun that may appear
needful to inexpert eyes.
Even when geese are slowing down to alight, the impetus of
their flight is still far greater than it appears.
It is a mistake to suppose (as many urge) that geese cannot
be killed coming in, that the shot then “glances off their steely
plumage,” or that you “‘ must let them pass over and shoot from
behind,” ete., etc. The cause of all these frequent misapprehensions
is—the old, old story—too far back! Hold another foot ahead—
or a yard, according to circumstance—and this dictum will be
handsomely proved.
Never deliberately try to kill two at one shot; it results in
killing neither. But by shooting well ahead of one goose that is
seen to be aligned with another beyond, both may thus be secured.
CHAPTER
XII
SOME RECORDS IN SPANISH WILDFOWLING
Eu Travierso, February 9, 1901.—An hour before dawn we
(five guns) lay echeloned obliquely across a mile of water, the
writer's position being the
second out. No. 1 squatted
(in six inches of water)
between me and the shore ;
but, being dissatisfied, moved
elsewhere shortly after day-
break, leaving with me two
geese and about a dozen
ducks. These, with thirty-
six of my own, I set out as
decoys. Shortly thereafter
I heard the gagele of geese, and two, coming from behind, were
already so near that there was only time to change one cartridge
to big shot.
The geese passed abeam, quite low and within
thirty yards, but six feet apart—impossible to get them both.
Held on; upon seeing that the decoys were a fraud, the geese
=F fj
LY fi
(ea ee
(ca
spun up vertically, and
that one cartridge
secured both. The in-
cident gives opportun-
ity to introduce two
rough sketches pen-
cilled down at the
moment. During this
day there were recur-
rent periods when for
ten or fifteen minutes ducks flew extremely fast and well—
revoluciones, our keepers term these sporadic intermittent
134 Unexplored Spain
movements; then for a full hour or more might follow a spell
of absolute silence and an empty sky. Almost the whole of
these successive flights concentrated on No. 2—such is fowler’s
luck,—so that by dusk I had gathered 105 ducks, 3 geese,
3 flamingoes, and 4 godwits; total, 115. The next oun
(J. C. C.), though only 200 yards away, in No. 3, had but 30
ducks ; while the others had practically had no shooting all day.
Bertie, however, two miles away at the Desierto, added 65
—bringing the day’s total to 268 ducks, 8 geese, etc. Three
guns left to-night.
Next day at the
Cafializa, Bertie and
I had 70 ducks by
noon, when (by
reason of intense
sun-glare at the
point) I shifted back to my yesterday's post—two hours’ tramp
through sticky mud and water, with a load of cartridges, ducks,
etc. Thereat in one bour (4 to 5 p.m.) I secured 56 ducks,
bringing my total for the two days—a record in my humble
way, but surpassed threefold, as will be seen on following pages
—to over 200 head, and for the party, to precisely 500 (491
ducks and 9 geese), besides flamingoes, ruffs, grey-plover, ete.
GODWITS
A curious incident occurred on February 11 (1907). But
few ducks—and they all teal—had “ flighted” early, and a strong
west wind having “blown” the water, my post was left near
dry. Just as I prepared to move 300 yards eastward, a
marvellous movement of teal commenced. On the far horizon
appeared three whirling clouds, each perhaps 100 yards in length
by 20 in depth, and all three waltzing and wheeling in marshalled
manceuvres down channel towards me. To right and left in
rhythmical revolutions swept those masses, doubling again and
again upon themselves with a precision of movement that passes
understanding. Each unit of those thousands, actuated by
simultaneous impulse, changed course while moving at lightning
speed ; and with that changed course they changed also their
colour, flashing in an instant from dark to silvery white, while
the roar of wings resembled an earthquake.
All three clouds had already passed along the deeper water
Records in Spanish Wildfowling 135
beyond my reach when there occurred this strange thing. A
peregrine falcon had for some time been hanging around study-
ing with envious eye the dozen or two dead ducks stuck up
around my post; now he swept away, as it were, to intercept
that feathered avalanche on my right, with the result that the
third and last cloud, being cut off, doubled back in tumultuous
confusion right in my face—what a spectacle! The puny twelve-
bore brought down a perfect shower of teal—probably 30 or
more fell all around me. I gathered 18 as fast as the sticky mud
allowed; others fluttered here and there beyond reach; how
many in all escaped to feed marsh-harriers none can tell.
Another incident with peregrine :—I had just taken post for
night-flighting at the Albacias, when, as dusk fell, a big bird
appeared in the gloom making, with laboured flight, directly
towards me. Thinking (though doubtfully) that it was a goose,
I fired. ‘The stranger proved to be a beautiful adult peregrine,
carrying in its claws a marbled duck, and the pair are now set
up in my collection.
Figures such as the following are apt to provoke two senti-
ments: (1) that they are not true, or that (2), being true, such
results must be easy of attainment. The first we pass over. As
regards the second, the assumption ignores the nature and
essential character of wildfowl.
These, being cosmopolitans, remain precisely the same wher-
ever on the earth’s surface they happen to be found. It is their
sky they change, not their natural disposition or their fixed
habits, when wildfowl shift their homes. The difficulty is that
not half-a-dozen men in a thousand understand wildfowl or the
supreme difficulty which their pursuit entails, whether in Spain,
England, or elsewhere.
In England, it is true, such results are out of the question,
simply because the country is highly drained, cultivated, and
populous. Were it desired to recover for England those immigrant
hosts—the operation would not be impossible—break down the
Bedford Level and flood five counties! Then you might enjoy in
the Midlands such scenes as to-day we see in Spain.
As a matter of simple fact— and this we state without
suspicion of egotism, or careless should such uncharitably be
imputed—the results recorded below represent even for Spain
136 Unexplored Spain
something that approaches the human maximum alike in wild-
fowling skill, in endurance, and in deadly earnest.
That test of individual skill has, it may go without saying,
been demonstrated during all these years times without number.
There are not, within the authors’ knowledge, a score of men who
have fairly gathered to their gun in one day 100 ducks in the
open marisma. Again, while one such gun, who is thoroughly
efficient, will secure his century, others (including excellent
game-shots) will fail to bag one-tenth of that number. There
can be no question here of “luck” in that long run of years.
A feature, more valuable than the figures themselves, is the
light they throw upon the varying distribution of the Anatidae
(both specifically and seasonably) in the south of Spain.
1897. November 10.—OnE Gun (W. J. B.)
Dawn at El Puntal 6 geese
Forenoon at Santolalla 128 ducks
Afternoon ,, 2 stags
1897. November 25.—Las Nuevas (C. D. W. and B. F. B.)
307 ducks, 53 geese
(Geese, all the afternoon, came well in to clecoys)
1898. January 29, 30, and 31—Two Guys (W. D. M. and W. J. B.)
437 ducks, 17 geese
1903, January 18—FLieHT-SHooTING wITH 12-BoRE at CaNo Dutce (onE Guy)
139 Wigeon
32 Pintail
20 Teal
22 Shovelers
10 Gadwall
1 Mallard
3 Greylag Geese
Total, 224 ducks and 3 geese. About one-half shot on natural flight before
11 a.m. ; the rest later, over “decoys.” Nice breeze all day.
1903. February—TareE Consecutive Days’ FLIcHTING (ONE Guy)
February 22. February 23. February 24.
Pintails 49 39 68
Wigeon 17 18 5
Shovelers 41 70 2
Teal . 10 17 2
Gadwall 1 0 3
Marbled Duck 1 (0) (0)
Garganey 1 1 0
Malard 0 0 1
Records in Spanish Wildfowling 137
On the 24th a succession of pintails came in, all in pairs. Almost the entire bag
of that species was made in double shots.
1903. March 4,—Bryonp Desierto, Fricatine (onE Guy)
124 Teal
7 Pintail
2 Maliard
4 Shovelers
Put away many thousands of teal early. These kept coming back in small lots
all day. But the wind held wrong all through, and the Viento de la mar (= sea-breeze)
did not blow up till 5 p.m. Nine camels passed close by.
1904. November 8.—Lacuna DE SANTOLALLA (ONE GUN)
102 Teal
14 Pochard
3 Gadwall
7 Mallard
3 Shovelers
6 Ferruginous Duck
25 Marbled Duck
Total 159 Ducks
1905. November 8.—(P. Garvey, C. D. W., and B. F. B.)
Santolalla 264 ducks
1905. December 3.—CaNo DuLcE (oNE Gun)
3 Greylag Geese
121 Wigeon
47 Teal
3 Pintail
3 Shovelers
1 Flamingo
Total 178
1905-6. Two Days at CaNo Dvutce (ONE Guy)
Dec. 17, 1905. Feb. 17, 1906.
Wigeon 235 47
Shovelers 10 13
Pintail 18 62
Gadwall 6 0
Teal . 2 6
Marbled Duck 1 0
Geese 1 2
273 130
The total on December 17 represents the “Record,” and was made (as was that
with geese, see p. 131) by B. F. B.
The whole of the above records refer to flight-shooting with a 12-bore gun.
138 Unexplored Spain
Following is a list of the different ducks shot by one gun
during two consecutive seasons :—
1902-3. 1903-4,
Wigeon 277 230
Pintail 267 28
Mallard 9 42
Gadwall 21 36
Shovelers 195 32
Teal 276 269
Gurganey 2 1
Marbled Duck 4 51
Pochard } 1 0
Pochard, Crested 1 0
Tufted Duck 0 1
White-faced Duck 0 ]
Unenumerated 191 0
1244 726
1 The scarcity of diving-ducks is explained by these having all been shot in the shallow,
open marisma. In the deeper waters, such as Santolalla, common and white-eyed pochards,
tufted ducks, etc., abound.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SPANISH IBEX
In the Spanish ibex Spain possesses not only a species peculiar
to the Peninsula, but a game-animal of the first rank.
Fortunate it is that this sentence can be written in the present
tense instead of (as but a few years ago appeared probable) in the
past.
Since we first wrote on this subject in 1893 the Spanish ibex
has passed through a crisis that came perilously near extirpation.
Up to the date named, and for several years later, none of the
great landowners of Spain, within whose titles were included the
vast sierras and mountain-ranges that form its home, had cherished
either pride or interest in the Spanish wild-goat. Some were
dimly conscious of its existence on their distant domains; but
that was all. Not a scintilla of reproach is here inferred. For
these mountain-ranges are so remote and so elevated as often to
be almost inaccessible—or accessible only by organised expedition
independent of local aid. Their sole human inhabitants are a
segregated race of goat-herds, every man of them a born hunter,
accustomed from time immemorial to kill whenever opportunity
offered—and that regardless of size, sex, or season. That the
ibex should have survived such persecution by hardy moun-
taineers bespeaks their natural cunning. Their survival was due
to two causes—first, the antiquated weapons employed, but, more
important, the astuteness of the game and the “defence” it
enjoyed in the stupendous precipices and snow-fields of those
slerras, great areas of which remain inaccessible even to specialised
goat-herds, save only for a limited period in summer.
But no wild animal, however astute or whatever its “ de-
fence,” can withstand for ever perpetual, skilled human persecu-
tion. During the early years of the present century the Spanish
139
140 Unexplored Spain
ibex appeared doomed beyond hope. Private efforts over such
vast areas were obviously difficult, if not impossible.
We rejoice to add that at this eleventh hour a new era of
existence has been secured to Capra hispdnica at that precise
psychological moment when its scant survivors were struggling in
their last throes. The change is due to graceful action by the
landowners in certain great mountain-ranges; and if our own
explorations and our writings on the subject have also tended to
assist, none surely will grudge the authors this expression of
pride in having helped, however humbly, to preserve not only to
Spain, but to the animal-world, one of its handsomest species.
This new era took different forms in different places. In
certain sierras—those of less boundless area—the owners have
undertaken the preservation of the ibex partly from their realising
the tangible asset this game-beast adds to the value of barren
mountain-land, and partly in view of the legitimate sport that an
increase in stock may hereafter afford.
But the main factor which has assured success (and which in
itself led up to the private efforts just named) took origin in the
great Sierra de Grédos. This elevated region is the apex of the
long cordillera of central Spain, the Carpeto-Vetonico range,
which extends from Moncayo, east of Madrid, for some 300 miles
through the Castiles and Estremadura, forming the watershed of
Tagus and Douro. It separates the two Castiles, and passing the
frontier of Portugal is there known as the Serra da Estrella,
which, with the Cintra hills, extends to the Atlantic sea-board.
Along all this extensive cordillera there is no more favoured
resort of ibex than its highest peak, the Plaza de Almanzor, of
2661 metres altitude (= 8700 feet) above sea-level.
In 1905, when the ibex were about at their last gasp, the
proprietors of the Nucléo central, which we may translate as
the Heart of Grédos, of their own initiative, ceded to King
Alfonso XIII. the sole rights-of-chase therein, and His Majesty
commissioned the Marquis of Villaviciosa de Asturias to appoint
an adequate force of guards.
Six guards were selected from the self-same goat-herds who, up
to that date, had themselves been engaged in hunting to exter-
mination the last surviving ibex of the sierra, and whom we had
ourselves employed during various expeditions therein.
The ceded area comprised all the best game-country, defined
ON THE RISCO DEL FRAILF,
SpANISH IBEX IN SIERRA DE GREDOs.
The Spanish Ibex 141
as the “ Circo de Grédos”—including the gorge of the Laguna
Grande, the Risco del Fraile, Risco del Francés, and that of Ame4l
de Pablo, together with the wild valley of Las Cinco Lagunas—
as shown on rough sketch-plan annexed.
>
I S09"
ae
S208 pe MOREZON
7 RIEESEFAS 33 =
i StIPU NIN 22 SU TTTHONO YG
ISS SBR SRR )
ZY, RiSCOS pe Las CINCO LAGUNAS =~
SS
SKETCH-MAP OF THE NUCLEO CENTRAL OF GREDOS
(A, Alto del Casquerdzo. B. Riscos del Fraile, with the Hermanitos in front. )
In 1896 we estimated the stock of ibex at fifty head, and
during the following years it fell far below that—by 1905 almost
to zero. In 1907, after only two years of ‘‘sanctuary,” it was
computed by the guards that the total exceeded 300 head.
In July 1910 we inquired if it were possible to estimate the
142 Unexplored Spain
present stock. In a letter (the composition of which would cost
some anxiety) the Guarda of the Madrigal de la Vera—one portion
only of the ‘‘ sanctuary ’—reports: “It is difficult to count the
ibex. Sometimes we see more, sometimes less. Yesterday on
the Cabeza Nevada we counted 39 rams and 22 females together.
On the other side we counted 29 in one troop, 19 in another, 12
in another, besides smaller lots. We probably saw 160 or 170,
and we could not see all. Some of the old rams are very big, and
it would be advisable that some be shot.” Another report (at
same date) from the ‘“‘Hoyos del Espino,” estimates the ibex
there to exceed 200 head. The two reports go to show that the
continuity of the race is fairly secured.
[A similar cession of sole hunting-rights to the King was
simultaneously made by the owners of the ‘“ Central Group” of
the Picos de Europa in Asturias. There are no ibex in that
Cantabrian range; the graceful act was there inspired by a desire
to preserve the chamois, animals with which we deal in another
chapter. |
The Spanish ibex is found at six separate points in the
Peninsula, each colony divided from its fellows as effectually
as though broad oceans rolled between. The six localities are :—
(1) The Pyrenees—which we have not visited.
(2) Sierra de Grédos, as above defined, and as described in
greater detail hereafter.
(3) Sierra Moréna, a single isolated colony near Fuen-Caliente,
now preserved (see next chapter).
(4) Sierra Nevdda and the Alpuxarras (ef. infra).
(5) The mountains along the Mediterranean, which are
properly western outliers of Nevdda, but which are usually
grouped as the “ Serrania de Ronda,” some lying within sight of
Gibraltar. Several of the most important ranges are now pre-
served by their owners (cf. infra).
(6) Valencia, Sierra Martés. This forms a new habitat
hitherto unrecorded, and of which we only became aware through
the kindness of Mr. P. Burgoyne of Valencia, who has favoured us
with the annexed photo of an ibex head killed (along with a
smaller example) at Cuevas Altas in the mountain-region known
as Pefias Pardas in that province, February 22, 1909. The
dimensions read as follows :—
The Spanish Ibex 143
Length along front curves . 213 inches
Circumference at base 74
Widest span 162
Tip to tip 17
Our informant has reason to believe that ibex also exist (or
existed within recent years) in the rugged mountains of Tortosa,
farther east in Catalonia.
In the form of its horns the Spanish ibex differs essentially
from the typical ibex of the Alps—now, alas, exterminated save
only in the King of Italy’s preserved ranges around the Val d’ Aosta.
In the true ibex the horns bend regularly backwards and down-
wards in a uniform, scimitar-like curve. In the Spanish species,
after first diverging laterally, the horns are recurved both inward
and finally upward. That is, in the first case they follow a
simple semicircular bend, while in the Spanish goats they form
almost a spiral.
A minor point of difference lies in the annular rings or notches
which in the true ibex are rectangular, encircling the horn in front
like steps in a ladder, while in Capra hispdnica they rather run
obliquely in semi-spiral ascent. These annulations indicate the
age of the animal—one notch to each year—but the count must
stop where the spiral ends. Beyond that is the lightly grooved
tip, which does not alter.
The horns of old rams (which are often broken or worn down
at the tips) average 26 to 28 inches, specially fine examples
reaching 29 inches or more. The females likewise carry horns,
but short and slender, only measuring 6 or 7 inches.
The six isolated colonies of ibex, separated from each other
during ages, live under totally different natural conditions. For
while some, as stated, exist at 8000, 10,000, or 12,000 feet
altitude, others occupy hills of much more moderate elevations
—say 4000 to 6000 feet, some of which are bush-clad to
their summits. Under such circumstances there have naturally
developed divergencies not only in habits, but in form and size.
Particularly does this apply to the horns, and for that reason
we give a series of photos of typical examples from various
points.
The ibex of the Pyrenees is certainly the largest race, and
has been entitled by scientists Cupra pyrenaica ; those of the
centre and south of Spain being differentiated as C. hispdnica.
144 Unexplored Spain
We attach less importance to specific distinctions, but leave
the illustrations of specimens to speak for themselves. It may,
however, be remarked that examples from the two outside ex-
tremes (Pyrenees and Nevada) most closely assimilate in their
flattened and compressed form of horn.
Neither in Grédos nor Nevdda are the rock-formations so
precipitous as in the Picos de Europa in Asturias—described
later in this book. They present, nevertheless, difficulties possibly
insuperable to mere hunters unskilled in the technique of
climbing. Rock-climbing forms a recognised branch of “ moun-
taineering,” but of that science the authors (with sorrow be it
confessed) have never been enamoured. To us, mountains,
merely as such, have not appealed. But they form the home of
alpine creatures, the study and acquisition of which were objects
that no terrestrial obstacle could entirely forbid, and we enjoy
retrospective pride in having so far surmounted those antecedent
terrors as to have secured a few specimens of this, the most
“impossible ” of European trophies—the Spanish ibex.
An awkward situation is a subrounded wall of rough granu-
lated granite blocking our course and traversed obliquely by an
up-trending fissure barely the breadth of hempen soles, its
inclination outward, and the “tread” carpeted with slippery wet
moss still half frozen. It is seldom what one can see that gives
pause, but the fear of the unseen. Here we hesitate by reason of
the uncertainty of what may confront beyond that grim curve.
The fissure might cease ; to turn back would clearly be impossible.
Impatient of delay our crag-born guide—a homo rupestris, pre-
hensile of foot—seized the gun, and with a muttered ejaculation
that might have included scorn, in three strides had skipt around
the dreaded corner—of course we followed.
Snow-slopes tipped at steep angles never inspire confidence
in the unaxed climber, especially when the surface is half melted,
revealing green ice beneath, and when the disappearing curve
conceals from view what dangers may lurk below. Again a
suddenly interrupted ledge—say where some great block has
become disintegrated from the hanging face—necessitates a sort
of nervy jump quite calculated to shorten one’s days, even if it
does not precipitately terminate them.
The ibex is always nocturnal. On the great cordilleras it
spends its day asleep on some rock-ledge isolated amidst snow-
The Spanish Ibex 145
fields, its security doubly assured by sentinels, whenever such
are deemed necessary: or, lower down, in the caves of a sheer
precipice. Only after sun-down do the ibex descend, and never,
even then, so far as timber-line. On these loftier sierras their
home by day is confined to rock and snow; by night to that
zone of moss, heath, and alpine vegetation that intervenes
between the snow-line and topmost levels of scrub and conifer.
Such are the ibex of the loftier ranges—Grédos and Nevada.
But in the south, wild-goats are found on mountains of inferior
elevation, 4000 to 6000 feet, many of which are jungled—some
even forested—to their summits, and there they cannot disdain
the shelter of the scrub. We have hunted them (within sight
of the Mediterranean) in ground that appeared more suitable
to roe-deer, and have seen the ‘‘rootings” of wild-pig within
the ibex-holding area.
In such situations the wild-goats take quite kindly to the
scrub, forming regular “airs” wherein they lie-up as close as
hares or roe. Amidst the brushwood that clothes the highland
—heaths and broom, genista, rhododendron, lentiscus, and a
hundred other shrubs—they rest by day and browse by night
without having to descend or shift their quarters at all. On
these lower hills the ibex owe their safety, and survival, to
the vast area of covert, and, in less degree, to their comparatively
small numbers. So few are they and so big their home, they are
considered ‘“ not worth hunting.”
During summer the ibex feed on the mountain-grasses, rush,
and flowering shrubs which at that season adorn the alpine
solitudes ; later, on the berries and wild-fruits of the hill. By
autumn they attain their highest condition—the beards of the
rams fully developed and their brown pelts glossy and almost
uniform in colour. At this period (September to October) the
rutting season occurs and fighting takes place—the champions
rearing on hind-legs for a charge, and the crash of opposing horns
resounds across the corries of the sierra. Even in spring
memories of the combative instinct survive, for we have watched,
in April, a pair of veterans sparring at each other for half an
hour.
The young are born in April and soon follow their dams—
graceful creatures with unduly large hind-legs, like brown lambs.
L
146 Unexplored Spain
One is the usual number, though two are not infrequent. The
kid remains with its dam upwards of a year—that is, till after a
second family has been born.
At that season (April to May) the ibex are changing their
coats. The males lose the flowing beard and assume a hoary
piebald colour, contrasting with the dark of legs and quarters,
The muzzle is warm cream colour and the lower leg (below knee)
prettily marked with black and white. On the knee is a callosity,
or round patch of bare hardened skin. The horns of yearling
males are thicker and heavier than those of adult females.
Though the hill-shepherds in summer drive out their herds of
goats to pasture on the higher sierra, where they may come in
contact with their wild congeners, yet no interbreeding has ever
been known; nor can the wild ibex be domesticated. Wild kids
that are captured invariably die before attaining maturity. The
horns of the herdsmen’s goats differ in type from those of the
ibex, which can never have been the progenitor of the race of
goats now domesticated in Spain.
Though the personal aroma of an ibex-ram is strong—rather
more offensive than that of a vulture—yet no trace of this
remains after cooking. The flesh is brown and tough, but devoid
of any special flavour or individuality—that is, when subjected to
the rude cookery of the camp.
CHAPTER XIV
SIERRA MORENA
IBEX
THE tourist speeding along the Andalucian railways and surveying
from his carriage-window the olive-clad and altogether mild-
looking slopes of the Sierra Moréna, will form no adequate,
much less a romantic, conception of that great mountain-system
of which he sees but the southern fringe. Yet, in fact, the
train hurries him past within a few leagues of perhaps the finest
big-game country in Spain—of mountain-solitudes and a thousand
jungled corries, wherein lurk fierce wolves and giant boars,
together with one of the grandest races of red deer yet extant
in Europe.
True, the Sierra Moréna lacks both the altitudes and the
stupendous rock-ridges that characterise all other Spanish
sierras—from Nevada and Grédos to the Pyrenees. It consists
rather of a congeries of jumbled mountain-ranges of no great
elevations, but of infinite ramification, and lacking (save at two
points only) those bolder features that most appeal to the eye.
Were the Spanish ranges all of the contour of Moréna, the name
“‘ Sierra’ would not have applied. It is, moreover, a unilateral
range—a buttress, banked up on its northern side by the high-
lands of La Mancha, resembling in that respect the well-known
Drakensberg of the Transvaal.
The Sierra Moréna, typical yet apart, divides for upwards
of 300 miles the sunny lowlands of Andalucia from the bare,
bleak uplands of La Mancha on the north. And in vertical
depth (if we may include the contiguous Montes de Toledo) the
range extends but little short of 150 miles.
As a homogeneous mountain-system, Moréna thus covers a
space equal to the whole of England south of the Thames, with
147
148 Unexplored Spain
a central northern projection which would embrace all the
Midland Counties as far as Nottingham !
[In any survey of the Sierra Moréna, it is appropriate to
include the adjoining Montes de Toledo. They, as just stated,
form a north-trending pyramidal apex based on the main chain
and presenting identical characteristics, both physical and faunal,
though of lower general elevation. The Montes de Toledo, in
short, are an intricate complication of low subrounded hills—
rather than mountains—tacked on to the north of Moréna, all
scrub-clad and inhabited by the same wild beasts. Toledan stags
exhibit the same magnificent cornual development, and there is
evidence of seasonal intermigration as between two adjacent
regions only divided by the valley of the Guadiana—a shortage
in one area being sometimes found to be compensated by a
corresponding increase in the other. Roe-deer are more abundant
in the lower range; but the sole clean-cut faunal distinction lies
in the presence of wild fallow-deer in the Montes de Toledo—
these animals being quite unknown in Moréna.*]
May we digress on a cognate subject? The Sierra Nevada,
though so near (at one point the two ranges are merely separated
by a narrow gap yclept Los Llanos de Jaén), yet presents totally
divergent natural phenomena.
There are points in Moréna—say from the heights above
Despefiaperros—whence the two systems can be surveyed at
once. Behind you, on the north, roll away, ridge beyond ridge,
the endless rounded skylines of Moréna—colossal yet never
abrupt. In front, to the south—apparently within stone’s-
throw—rise the stupendous snow-peaks of Nevdda—jagged
pinnacles piercing the heavens to nigh 12,000 feet.
These peaks may appear within stone’s-throw, or say an easy
day’s ride, though that is an optical illusion. But narrow as it
is, that gap of Jaén divides two mountain-regions utterly dis-
similar in every attribute, whether as to the manner of their birth
in remote ages and the landscapes they present to-day.
Faunal distinctions are also conspicuous. In Nevada there
are found neither deer of any kind (whether red, roe, or fallow)
1 The Montes de Toledo comprise some of the best big-game country in Spain and include
several of her most famous preserves ; such, for example, as the Coto de Cabafieros belonging
to the Conde de Valdelagrana, El Castillo, a domain of the Duke of Castillejos, and Zumajo
of the Marques de Alventos. The Duke of Aridn possesses « wild tract inhabited by
fallow-deer.
Sierra Moréna 149
nor wild-boar, whereas it forms the selected home of ibex and
lammergeyer, both of which are conspicuous by their absence
from Moréna, save for a single segregated colony of wild-goats
near Fuen-Caliente.
Although the Sierra Moréna partakes rather of massive than
of abrupt character, yet there occur at a couple of points outcrops
of naked rock of real grandeur. Such, for example, is Despefia-
perros, through whose gorges the Andalucian railway threads
a semi-subterranean course. The very name Despefiaperros
signifies in that wondrously adaptive Spanish tongue nothing
less than that its living rocks threaten to hurl to death and
destruction even dogs that venture thereon.
Another interpretation suggests that in olden days, such
were the pleasantries of the Moors, it was not dogs, but Christians
(since to a Moor the terms were synonymous) that were hurled
to their death from the rzscos of Despefiaperros.
These rock-formations are superbly abrupt. Great detached
crags, massive and moss-marbled, jut perpendicular from ragged
steeps, or vast monoliths protrude, each in rectilineal outline
so exact that one wonders if these are truly of nature’s handi-
work, and not some fabled fortalice of old-time Goth or Moor.
Despite its striking contour, however, its crags and precipices
are too scattered and detached (with traversable intervals
between) to attract such a rock-lover as the ibex, and no wild-
goat has ever occupied the gorges of Despefiaperros.
A similar rock-region, but more extensive and continuous,
is found near Fuen-Caliente—by name the Sierra Quintana.
This range, though its elevations barely exceed 7000 feet, forms
the only spot in the Sierra Moréna at which the Spanish ibex
retains a foothold.
Thereat the writer in 1901 endured one of those evil
experiences which from time to time befall those who seek
hunting-grounds in the wilder corners of the earth. It was in
mid-February that, forced by bitter extremity of weather, we
fain sought refuge in the hamlet of Fuen-Caliente clinging at
5700 feet on the steep of the sierra, as crag-martins fix their
clay-built nests on some rock-face. Fuen-Caliente dates back to
Roman days. Warm springs, as its name implies, here burst
from riven rock, and stone baths, built by no modern hand,
150 Unexplored Spain
attest a bygone enterprise. To this day, we are told, the baths
of Fuen-Caliente attract summer-visitors; we trust their health
benefits thereby. Surely some counter-irritation is needed to
balance the perils of a sojourn within that unsavoury eyrie. We
write feelingly, even after all these years, and after suffering
assorted tribulations in many a rough spot—Fuen-Caliente is bad
to beat.
Having tents and full camp-outfit, we had thought to live
independent of the village posada. One night, however, as we
climbed the rising ground that leads to the higher sierra there
burst in our faces an easterly gale (Jevante), with driving snow-
storms that even a mule could not withstand. Nothing remained
but to seek shelter in the village below.
Here my bedroom measured twelve feet by four, with a door
at each end. The door proper was reached by a vertical ladder ;
the second might perhaps be differentiated as a window, but
could only be distinguished as such by its smaller size—both
being made of solid wood. Thus, were the window open, snow
swirled through as freely as on the open sierra; if shut, we
lived in darkness dimly relieved by the flicker of a mariposa,
that is, a cotton-wick reposing in a saucer of olive-oil. Under
such conditions, with other nameless horrors, we passed three days
and nights while gales blew and snow swirled by incessant.
On the fourth morning the wind fell, and snow had given
place to fine rain. These /evantes usually last either three or
nine days; so, thinking this one had blown itself out, we packed
the kit and set out in renewed search of ibex, Caraballo, with
accustomed forethought, buying a bunch of live chickens, which
hung by their legs from the after-pannier of the mule. On the
limited area of Quintana, ibex offer the best chance of stalking.
Mules are marvellous mountaineers. The places that animal
surmounted to-day passed belief. Two donkeys that belonged
to the local hunters, Abad and Brijido, who accompanied us, soon
got stuck, and had to be left below.
By three o’clock we, mule and all, had reached the highest ridge
of Quintana, and encamped within a few hundred feet of its top-
most 7iscos.
To set up a tent among rocks is never easy; even specially
made iron tent-pegs find no hold, and guy-ropes have to be made
fast, as securely as may be, to any projecting point.
Sierra Moréna 151
Hardly had the sun gone down, than the easterly gale blew
up-again with redoubled force. All night it howled through our
narrow gorge and around its pinnacled rock-minarets, with the
result that at 11 p.m. the ill-secured guys gave way, and down
came our tent with a crash. Two hours were spent (in drenching
rain) remedying this; and when day broke, an icy neblina (fog)
enveloped the sierra, shutting out all view beyond a few yards.
The cold was intense, and a little dam we had engineered the
night before was frozen thick. The fog held all that day
and the next. Nothing could be done, though we persisted
in going out each day, as in duty bound, for a few hours’ turn
among the crags—how we prayed for one hour’s clear interval
that might have given that glorious sight we sought! At dusk
the second night snow fell heavily, and later on a thunderstorm
added to our joys. Frequent and vivid flashes of lightning lit
up the darkness, and caused the surviving chickens (which in
common charity we had had tethered inside the tent) to crow so
incessantly that sleep was impossible. Presently we noticed a
sharp fall in temperature—the men had brought in a cube of
ice, the solidified contents of one of our camp-buckets, which they
proposed to melt at a little fire kept burning in the tent! But
this was too much, even though it meant “no coffee for
breakfast.”
The frost and fog continuing, on the third morning the men
proposed we should move lower down the hill, to some cortzo
they knew of, thereat to await milder weather.
By this time, however, the cold had penetrated deep into
throat and chest, which felt raw and inflamed, leaving the writer
almost speechless. We therefore decided to abandon the whole
venture, and struck camp, still wrapt in that opaque shroud of
driving sleet.
Crossing over the highest ridge of the sierra, between crags
of which only the bases were visible, we descended on the south
side ; here we organised a “drive” amid the jungles that clothe
the lower slopes. Two lynxes and three pigs were reported as
seen by the beaters. Only one of the latter, however, came to
the gun, and proved to be a sow, bigger by half than any wild-
pig we had then seen in Spain. We regretted having no
means of weighing this beast, which we estimated at well over
200 lbs. clean. A remarkable cast antler picked up at this spot
152 Unexplored Spain
carried four points on the main beam, as well as four on top—
length 344 inches, by 52 inches basal circumference.
The “ Gia? of the ibex in the Sierra Quintana lie among
some fairly big crags forming the eastern and southern faces of
the range. The shooting at that time was free; hence the goats
were never left in peace by the mountaineers, who all carried
guns, and used them whenever a chance presented itself. The
result was that the few surviving goats had become severely
nocturnal in habit, spending the entire day in caves and crevices
in the faces of sheer and naked precipices.
Some of their eyries appeared absolutely inaccessible to any
creature unendowed with wings. One cave, though it had no
visible approach, was situate only some eight or ten feet above
a ledge in the perpendicular rock-face. One morning at dawn
two ibex having been seen to enter this cave, at once a couple
of the wiry goat-herds thought to reach them from the ledge
below, one lad actually climbing on to the other’s shoulders as he
stood on that narrow shelf. In its rush to escape, however, the
leading ibex upset the precarious balance, and the poor lad was
precipitated among the tumbled rocks in the abyss below.
Riding homewards through inhospitable brush-clad hills to-
wards the railway (forty miles away), we put up one night at a
village named, with unconscious irony, Cardefia Real. In the
small hours broke out another terrific disturbance—shrieks,
squeals, barking—all the dogs gone mad. The night was
pitch-dark with rain falling in torrents; but next morning we
ascertained that a pack of wolves had carried off the landlord’s
pigs from their stye, not fifteen yards away—indeed, three
mangled porkers lay piled up against the wall of our hovel.
The contingency of pigs being worse off than ourselves had
not previously occurred to us. Thus ended, in a cycle of catas-
trophe, our first wrestle with Capra hispdnica in Moréna; but
initial failure only served to stimulate further efforts later on.
Winter, moreover, is no season for camping in these high sierras ;
May is more favourable, but the early autumn is best of all.
At this period (1901) the surviving ibex had fallen to a
mere handful. Fortunately here, as elsewhere in Spain, there
was aroused, within the next five years, the tardy interest of
Spanish landowners to save them.
The owner of the sierras above mentioned (the Marquis del
(A) SIERRA DE GREbDOsS--MADRIGAL DE LA VERA.
Length 26$in. Cireum. rofin. Tips, 224 in.
(B) SIERRA NEVADA.
Length 297 in. Cireum. SLin. Tips, 207 in.
(C) SIERRA DE GrEDOS, Boroye (D) VALENCIA, SIERRA MARTES
29) in. 2yF in,
NEDSS: OF SPANISH TBIEX.
Sierra Moréna rsa
Mérito) has favoured us with latest details respecting both the
ibex and other wild beasts therein.
The wild-goat (he writes) is the most difficult of all game to shoot,
proof of which is afforded by the fact that in the lands which I hold in
the Sierra Quintana (although until recent years these were unpreserved
and in the neighbourhood of a village where every man was a hunter)
yet the local shooters had not succeeded in exterminating the species.
Its means of defence, over and above its keen sight and scent, consist
chiefly in the inaccessible natural caves of those mountains, in which the
wild-goats invariably seek refuge the moment they find themselves
pursued. - In these caves the goats were accustomed to pass the entire
day, never coming out to feed except during the night.
To-day (since free shooting has ceased) they begin to show up a
little during daylight, and in other ways demonstrate a returning con-
fidence. Nevertheless they display not the slightest inclination to
abandon their old tendency to betake themselves, immediately on the
appearance of danger, to the vast crags and precipices which lie towards
the east of the sierra, and which crags afford them almost complete
security. The most effective method of securing a specimen to-day is, as
you know, by stalking (resécho). For this animal, when it finds itself
suddenly surprised by a human being, is less startled than deer, or other
game, and usually allows sufficient time for careful aim to be taken—
indeed, it seems to be the more alarmed when it has lost sight of the
intruder.
The rutting season occurs in November and December, and the kids,
usually one or two in number, are born in May, the same as domestic
goats. These kids have a terrible enemy in the golden eagles, since their
birth coincides with the period when these rapacious birds have their
own broods to feed, and when they become more savage than ever. To
reduce the damage thus done, I am now paying to the guards a reward
for every eagle destroyed, and this last spring took myself a nest contain-
ing one eaglet, shooting both its parents.
The dimensions of horns I am unable to put down with precision,
but there was killed here an ibex (which was mounted by Barrasona at
Cérdoba) measuring 85 centimetres in length (= 334 inches). Of the
last, which was killed by Lord Hindlip, as shown in photo I send, the
length of horns was 68 centimetres (= 26? inches).
The dimensions of the best ibex head obtained by us in this
sierra were: Length, 28 inches; basal circumference, 84 inches.
154 Unexplored Spain
Wotves
These animals, which perpetrate incredible destruction to
game, are very abundant in Moréna, yet rarely shot in the
monterias (mountain-drives). This is not due to any special
astuteness of the wolf, but simply because, while waiting for deer,
sportsmen naturally lie very low, thus giving opportunity to
wolves to pass unseen; while, on the other hand, when boars
only are expected, and sportsmen therefore remain less concealed,
the wolf is apt to detect the danger before arriving within shot.
In May and June the she-wolves produce their young ; but it
is difficult to discover these broods, since at that period they
betake themselves to remote regions far away from the haunts
frequented in normal times.
There is, however, one method of discovering them which is
known to the mountaineers as the otéo, or watching for them
over-night, thus noting precisely where each she-wolf gives tongue.
If on the following morning the howl is repeated at the same
spot, it is a practical certainty that that wolf will have her brood
in that immediate neighbourhood.
Thereupon at daybreak the hunters proceed to examine every
bush and brake in the marked spot, which invariably consists
either of strong brushwood or broken rocks. All around the
actual lair for a hundred yards the ground is traced with foot-
prints and scratchings, which usually lead to its discovery ; but
should it not be found that day, it is completely useless to seek
for it on the following, since the moment that a she-wolf per-
ceives that her whelps are being sought, she at once removes
them far away. To exterminate wolves, strychnine is extensively
used, giving positive results: At the same time it is always
better to supplement its use by searching out with practical men
the broods of wolf-cubs at their proper season.
The photo facing p. 158 shows a magnificent old dog-wolf,
scaling 93 lbs. dead-weight, which we obtained in the Sierra
Moréna, near Cérdoba, in March 1909.
1 Thirteen wolves were killed thus (and recovered) on the property of the Marquis del
Mérito in the winter of 1906-7.
Sierra Moréna 155
Lynx, oR Garo CERVAL
This animal breeds in April and May, and the number of
young is generally two. If captured, the majority of the young
lynxes die at the period when they change from a milk diet to
solid food, and one may imagine that the same thing happens in
the case of the wild lynxes, since otherwise it is difficult to explain
why an animal, whose only enemy is mankind, should remain so
scarce. Their food consists of partridges, rabbits, and other small
game.
Rep DEER
With the red deer of these mountains, as elsewhere in Spain,
the rut (celo) depends upon the autumn, which season may be
earlier or later; but the celo always takes place between mid-
September and mid-October. The calves are born at end of May
or early in June, and suckled by their mothers till the following
autumn.
The casting of the horns, together with the change of hair,
varies in date, depending on the state of health in each individual.
It generally occurs in May, but in very robust animals we have
seen cases in April, and in the barétos, or stags of one year, in
March. The development of the new horn is complete by the
end of July, and in August occurs the shedding of the velvet.
The horn at first is of a white bone-colour, but gradually darkens,
the final colour depending on the nature of the bush frequented,
the blackest being found in those stags which inhabit the gum-
cistus (jarales).
Although it is currently believed among country folk that the
age of a stag can be determined by the number of his points,
this is incorrect, the horn development depending solely on the
robustness of the animal. It frequently happens that a stag
carries fewer, points than he did the year before.
When the hinds are about to bring forth, they isolate them-
selves, seeking spots where the brushwood is less dense, and
leaving \the calf concealed in some bush. The habits of a hind
when giving her offspring its first lessons in the arts of conceal-
ment and caution are interesting to watch. Shortly after day-
break the mother suddenly performs a series of wild, convulsive
156 Unexplored Spain
bounds, leaping away over the bush as though in presence of
visible peril, thus alarming the youngster and teaching it to seek
cover for itself. This performance is repeated at intervals until
the calf has learnt to lie-up, when the hind will do the same, but
at some distance, although in view. She only allows her progeny
to accompany her when it has acquired sufficient strength and
agility to follow, which is the case some twenty or thirty days
after birth.
Having noted the spoor of a single hind at the breeding-
time, one may follow to the spot where she is suckling her
young. But so soon as one observes the prints of these spasmodic
jumps with which the mother instils into her offspring a sense of
caution (as above described), one may then begin leisurely to
examine every bush round about. In one of these the calf will
be found lying curled up without a bed and with its nose resting
on its hip. It will at first offer some slight resistance, but once
captured, may be set free with the certainty that it will not make
any attempt to escape.
The only enemies the full-grown stag has to fear are mankind
and the wolf, but chiefly the latter, since not only do single
wolves destroy in this sierra large numbers of the newly born
calves, but, worse still, when a troop of wolves have once tasted
venison they commence habitually to hunt both hinds and even
the younger stags, which they persistently follow day after day
till the deer are absolutely worn out. They then pull them down,
the final scene usually occurring in some deep ravine or mountain
burn.
The calves of red deer, as happens with ibex kids, are also
preyed upon by golden eagles.
DEER- SHOOTING
As regards sport, the best results are only attainable by
montertas, or extended drives, assuming that the district is
thickly jungled, and generally of elevated situation. There is
also a system of shooting at the “roaring-time,” but that is
uncertain owing to the rapidity of the stag’s movements, the
thick bush, and the risk of his getting the wind. Practised
1 Similarly the half-wild cattle of Spain leave their new-born calves concealed in some
bush or palmetto, the mother going off for a whole day and only returning at sunset.
ZAMUJAR, JAEN,. VALDELAGRANA.
Points 16. Length 38} in. Points 16. Length 402 in.
SIERRA (JUINTANA. RISQUILLO.
Points 15. Length 374 in. 4 Points 14. Length 36} in.
RED DEER HEADS, SIERRA MORENA,
Sierra Moréna 159
trackers are in the habit of hunting @ la grefia, which consists
in observing the deer at daybreak, selecting a good stag, and
afterwards following his spoor at midday (at which hour deer,
while enjoying their siesta, are quite apt to lie close) and
shooting as he springs from his lair (al arrancdr).
A really big stag is nearly always found alone, or should he
have a companion, the second will also be an animal of large
size. Such stags are never seen with hinds, excepting in the
autumn (celo).
The system of the monteria, or mountain-drive, is described
in detail in the following chapter.
TABLE OF SPANISH IBEX HEADS
Measured by the Authors, or other stated Authority.
Width.
Locality. Length. Paes Authority.
Tips. Inside.
| ;
ins. ins. | ins ins.
Moréna 334 ote sine Marq. Mérito (p. 158).
Pyrenees 31 264 Sa 83 | Sir V. Brooke.
Nevada 293 221 204 8t | At Madrid.
Grédos 1 294 234 ci 94 | Authors.
Do. 294 23d 21 9§ | M. Ameztia.
Do. 29 204 94 | Authors.
Pyrenees 29 23 oe 10 Sir V. Brooke.
Nevada! 29 23 182 9 Authors.
Do. 284 244 29 9y5 Do.
Moréna 284 fos 8h Do.
Bermeja 28 19 gl Do.
Moréna 262 bi ae Lord Hindlip.
Grédos 264 is 224 104 | At Madrid.
Pyrenees 26 21 ed 10 Sir V. Brooke.
Sa. Blanca . 26 82 | P. Larios.
Grédos 24h ss 8i | Authors,
Pyrenees 224 182 hes 94 |E.N. Buxton.
Sa. Blanca . 22 ia 14 72 | P. Larios.
Valencia 212 168 17 7£ | P. Burgoyne.
1 Photos given in Wild Spain.
CHAPTER XV
SIERRA MORENA (Continued)
RED DEER AND BOAR
THE mountain deer of the Sierra Moréna are the grandest of their
kind in Spain, and will compare favourably with any truly wild
deer in Europe.’ The drawings, photographs, and measurements
given in this chapter prove so much, but no mere numerals
convey an adequate conception of these magnificent harts, as
seen in the full glory of life bounding in unequal leaps over
some rocky pass, or picking more deliberate course up a stone
stairway.
Massive as they are in body (weighing, say, 300 lbs. clean),
yet even so the giant antlers appear almost disproportionate in
length and superstructure.
The whole Sierra Moréna being clad with brushwood and
jungle, thicker in places, but nowhere clear, shooting is practically
confined to “ driving” on that extensive scale termed, in Spanish
phrase, monteria.
Before describing two or three typical experiences of our
own in this sierra, we attempt a sketch of the system of the
monterta as practised throughout Spain.
The area of operations being immense and clad with almost
continuous thicket, it is customary to employ two or three
separate packs (termed rehdles, or recdbas), counting in all as
many as seventy or eighty hounds. The extra packs—beyond
that belonging to the host—are brought by shooting guests, and
each pack has its own huntsman (perréro), whom alone his own
1 We exclude from consideration all deer that are winter-fed or otherwise assisted, and of
course all that have been “improved” by crosses with extraneous blood. These mountain
deer of Spain are true native aborigines, unaltered and living the same wild life as they lived
here in Roman days and in ages before.
158
WOLF SHOT SIERRA MORENA, HUNTSMAN WITH CARACOLA,
March, 1909—weight 93 Ib. SIEKRA MORENA,
Pack oF PODENCOS, SIERRA MORENA. (COUPLED IN) PAIRS.)
Sierra Moréna 159
hounds’ will follow or recognise. The huntsmen (though not the
beaters) are mounted, and each carries a musket and a caracéla,
or hunting-horn formed of a big sea-shell. The forelegs of the
horses, where necessary—especially in Estremadura—are enveloped
in leather sheaths (fundas de cuero) to protect them from the
terrible thorns and the spikes of burnt cistus which pierce and
cut like knives. The best dogs are yodencos of the bigger breeds,
also crosses between podencos and mastifis, and between mastiffs
and alanos, the latter a race of rough-haired bull-dogs largely
used in Estremadura for ‘‘ holding-up” the boar.
The huntsmen with their packs, and the beaters, usually start
with the dawn, sometimes long before, dependent on the distance
to be traversed to their points, which may be ten or twelve miles.
Till reaching the cast-off, hounds are coupled up in pairs: a collar
fitted with a bell (cencerro) is then substituted, and the align-
ment being completed—each pack at its appointed spot—at a
given hour the beat begins.
On every occasion when a game-beast is raised a blank shot
is fired to encourage the hounds, and the who-hoops of the
huntsmen behind resound for miles around. Should the animal
hold a forward course (as desired), the hounds are shortly
recalled by the caracdlas, or hunting-horns aforesaid, and the
beat is then reformed and resumed.
Meanwhile—far away at remote posts prearranged—the
firing-line (armdda) has already occupied its allotted positions ;
the guns most often disposed along the crests of some command-
ing ridge, sometimes defiled in a narrow pass of the valley far
below.
Should the number of guns be insufficient to command the
whole front, the expedient of placing a second firing-line (termed
the travérsa), projected into the beat, and at a right angle from
the centre of the first line, is sometimes effective.
It may occur to those accustomed to deal with mountain-game
on a large scale that the chance of moving animals with any sort
of accuracy towards a scant line of guns scattered over vast
areas must be remote. True, the number of guns—even ten or
twelve—is necessarily insufficient, but here local knowledge and
the skill of Spanish mountaineers (by nature among the best
1 We here use the term hound or dog indiscriminately as, in the altering circumstances,
each is equally applicable and correct.
160 Unexplored Spain
guerrilleros on earth) comes effectively into play. In practice
it is seldom that the best “‘ passes” are not commanded.
In the higher ranges skylines are frequently pierced by nicks
or “ passes” (termed por'tillas) sufficiently marked as to suggest,
even to a stranger possessed of an eye for such things, the
probable lines of retreat for moving game. But “passes” are
not always conspicuous, nor are all skylines of broken contour.
On the contrary, there frequently present themselves long summits
that to casual glance appear wholly uniform. Here comes to aid
that local intuition referred to, nor will it be found lacking.
Many a long hill-ridge apparently featureless may (and often
does) include several well-frequented passes. Some slight sense
of disappointment may easily lurk in one’s breast in surveying
one’s allotted post to perceive not a single sign of “advantage ”
within its radius—or ‘‘ jurisdiction,” as Spanish keepers quaintly
put it. Yet it may be after all—and probably is—the apex of a
congeries of converging watercourses, glens, or other accustomed
salidas (outlets), all of which are invisible in the unseen depths
on one’s front; but which salient points in cynegetic geography
are perfectly appreciated by our guide.
The brushwood of Moréna consists over vast areas—many
hundreds of square miles—of the gum-cistus, a sticky-leaved
shrub that grows shoulder-high on the stoniest ground. Wherever
a slightly more generous soil permits, the cistus is interspersed
and thickened with rhododendron, brooms, myrtle, and a hundred
cognate plants. On the richer slopes and dells there crowd
together a matted jungle of lentisk and arbutus, white buck-thorn
and holly, all intertwined with vicious prehensile briar and
woodbine, together with heaths, genista, giant ferns, and gorse
of a score of species. Watercourses are overarched by oleanders,
and the chief trees are cork-oak and ilex, wild-olive, juniper, and
alder, besides others of which we only know the Spanish names,
quejigos, algarrobas, agracejis, etc.
Naturally, in such rugged broken ground as the sierras, where
the guns are protected by intervening heights, shooting is
permissible in any direction, whether in front or behind, and
even sometimes along the line itself. A survival of savage days,
when beaters didn’t count, is suggested by a refrain of the sierra :—
Mas vale matdr un Cristiano
Que no dejar ir una res—
Sierra Moréna 161
(Rather should a Christian die
Than let a head of game pass by.)
A word here as to the game and its habits. The lairs of wild-
boar are invariably in the densest jungle and on the shaded
slope where no sun ever penetrates. There is always at hand,
moreover, a ready salida, or exit, along some deep watercourse
or by a rocky ravine or gully—rarely do these animals show up
in the open, or even in ground of scanty covert. It is usually
the strongest arbutus-thickets (madronales) that they select for
their quarters.
It is seldom that wild-boar are “ held-up” by the dogs during
a beat—the old tuskers never.
Deer, on the contrary, avoid the denser jungle, lying-up in
more open brushwood and invariably on the sunny slope. Though
their “beds” (camas) may be on the lower ground, they
invariably seek the heights when disturbed, and then select a
course through the lighter cistus-scrub or across open screes,
knowing instinctively that thus they can travel fastest and best
throw off the pursuing pack.
Owing to the wide areas of each beat, a monteria in the
sierras is confined to a single drive each day, the guns usually
reaching their posts about eleven o'clock, and remaining therein till
late in the afternoon. In the lowlands, as already described, four,
five, and even six batidas (drives) are sometimes possible during
the day.
A Mownrerra av Mezquitituas (Province or CérDoBA)
A glorious ride amid splendid mountain scenery all lit up
with southern sunshine—the narrow bridle-track now forms
a mere tunnel hewn out of impending foliage; anon it descends
abrupt rock-faces, in zigzags like a corkscrew, apt to make
nerves creep, when one false step would precipitate horse and
rider into a half-seen torrent hundreds of feet below. Some
eight miles of this, and by eleven o’clock we have reached our
positions at Los Llanos del Peco.
These positions extend for over a league in length (there
are twelve guns), occupying the crests and “passes” of a lofty
ridge whence one enjoys a bird’s-eye view of a world of wild
mountain-land.
My own post commanded a panorama of almost the whole
M
162 Unexplored Spain
day’s operation, excepting only that on my immediate front there
yawned a deep ravine (cafiada) into the full depth of which I
could not see.
Already within a few minutes one had become aware, by a
far-distant shot, and by the echoing note of the bugle faintly
borne on a gentle northerly breeze, that the beat had begun. At
dawn that morning the four huntsmen, each with his pack, had
left the lodge, and are now encircling some seven or eight miles of
covert on our front, two-thirds of which lay beneath my gaze.
For five hours I occupied that puesto sitting between
convenient rocks, and hardly a measurable spell of the five
hours but I was held alert, either by the
actual sight of game afoot—far distant, it
is true—or by the shots and bugle-calls of
the hunters and the music of their packs
—all signs of game on the move.
It is instructive, though rarely possible,
to watch wild game thus, when danger
threatens, and to observe the wiles by
which they seek escape—doubling back on
their own tracks till nearly face to face
with the baying podencos, and then, by
a smart flank-movement, skirting round
behind the pack, till actually between the
latter and the following huntsmen; then lying flat, awaiting
till perchance the latter has gone by! That is our stag’s plan
—bold and comprehensive— yet it fails when that huntsman,
biding his time, perceives that his pack have overrun the
scent and recalls them to make quite sure of that intervening
bit of bush—poor staggie! Rarely indeed, even in mountain-
lands, do such chances of watching the whole play (and bye-
play) occur as those we enjoyed to-day on the Llanos del
Peco. Shots are apt to be quite difficult, as all bushes and
many trees are in full leaf (January) and the rayas, or rides cut
out along the shooting-line, barely twenty yards broad. ‘To-day,
moreover, the wind shifting from north to east operated greatly
to our disadvantage—practically, in effect, ruined the plan.
The first stag that came my way had already touched the
tainted breeze ere I saw him—being slightly deaf (the effects of
quinine) I had not heard his approach. Instantly he crossed the
Witb-BoAk-—WEIGHT 200 LBs... CLEAN.
Tuk Record HEAD—43 INCHES—LUGAR NUEVO, Nov. 14, 1909.
SIERRA MORENA.
Sierra Moréna 163
raya, 100 yards away, in two enormous bounds. There was just
time to see glorious antlers with many-forked tops ere he dived
from sight, plunging into ten-foot scrub.
I had fired both barrels, necessarily with but an apology for
an aim and the second purely “at a venture.” Three minutes
later resounded the tinkling cencerros (bells) of the podencos, and
when two of these hounds had followed the spoor ahead, all mute,
then I knew that both bullets had spent their force on useless
scrub.
Fortune favoured. Half an hour afterwards, a second stag
followed. This time a gentle rustle in the bush, and one clink of
AZURE-WINGED MAGPIE
a hoof on rock had caught my faulty ear. Then coroneted
antlers showed up from the depths below, and so soon as the
great brown body came in view, a bullet on the shoulder at short
fange dropped him dead. This was an average stag, weighing
255 lbs. clean, but although “royal,” carried a smaller head
than that first seen. Later, two other big stags descended
together into the unseen depths on my front, but whither they
subsequently took their course—quien sabe? I saw them no
more.
The only other animal that crossed my line during the day
was a mongoose, but objects of interest never lacked. Close
behind my post, a huge stick-built nest filled a small ilex. This
was the ancestral abode of a pair of griffons, and its owners were
already busy renewing their home, though my presence sadly
disconcerted them. Hereabouts these vultures breed regularly on
trees, a most unusual habit, due presumably to the lack of
164 Unexplored Spain
suitable crags which elsewhere form their invariable nesting-site.
Cushats and robins lent an air of familiarity to the scene, while
azure-winged magpies—a species peculiarly Spanish—hopped and
chattered hard by, curiosity overcoming fear. There were also
pretty Sardinian warblers, with long tails and a white nuchal
spot like a coal-tit. Other birds seen in this sierra include merlin
and kestrel, green woodpecker, jay, blackbird, thrush, redwing,
woodlark, and chaffinch; and on off-days we shot a few red-
legged partridges.
The two packs employed to-day numbered forty—twenty-four
big and sixteen small podencos, all yellow and white, the larger
having a cross of mastiff. That evening two of the best in the
pack were missing—* Capitan,” killed by a boar in the mancha ;
the other returned during the
night, fearfully wounded, one
foreleg almost severed.
The head-keeper told us that
these podencos fear the he-wolf.
They will run keenly on his
scent, but never dare to close
with him as they do with boar.
Yet curiously they have been
SARDINIAN WARBLER known to fraternise with the
she-wolf, and in no case will
they attack, but rather incline to caress her.
It was estimated by the drivers that eighty head of big-game
(reses) were viewed to-day. Thirty-two shots were fired, but
only my one stag was killed. Had the wind held steady, much
better results were probable.’ Included among the guests at
Mezquitillas—and they represented rank and learning, arms,
State, and Church—was a genial and imposing personality
in the poet laureate of Spain, Sr. D. Antonio Cavestany, who
celebrated this delightful if somewhat unlucky day in a series of
graceful couplets. We are wholly unequal to translate, but
copy two or three which readers who understand Spanish will
appreciate :—
1] never myself count shots, hits or misses—horas non numero. The above record is
solely due to the inception by our gracious hostess at Mezquitillas of a pretty custom,
namely, that for every bullet fired, a small sum should be payable by the sportsman towards
a local charity.
Sierra Moréna 165
Del Poeta al arma no dieron
Las Musas mucha virtud :
Cuatro ciervos le salieron
Y los cuatro se le fueron
Rebosantes de salud !
Suya fue la culpa toda:
Con la escopeta homicida
apuntar no se acomoda
Si les dispara una oda
No escapa ni uno con vida!
Sin duda no plugo 4 Dios
Que del ganado cervuno
Fueran las Parcas en pos
Total ; tiros, treinta y dos
Yvenados muertos, uno!!!
4 Quien realizé tal hazafia ?
Verguenza de humillacion,
Mi frente al decirlo bafia.
Fue el Ingles . la rubia Albion
Qued6 esta vez sobre Espaiia ! !
Resumen : luz, embeleso,
Panoramas, maravillas,
Bosques, arroyos, cantuéso
Lo dice junto todo eso
Solo al decir “ Mezquitillas.”
Y bondad, afecto, agrado,
Gracia que ingenio revela,
Hospitalidad, cuidado . .
Todo eso esta compendiado
Condecir “ Juan y Carmela.”
The next day’s operations precisely reversed those of
to-day, the guns being placed along the depths of a valley,
while the beaters brought down the whole mountain-slopes
above. Thus each post, though it commanded a “ pass,” gave
no such wonderful view beyond as had been the feature of
yesterday’s monteria. It will, in fact, be obvious that in a big
mountain-land no two beats are ever alike nor the conditions
equal. Every day presents fresh problems. That is one of the
charms.
To-day, several stags and a pig were killed, besides one
roe-deer and an enormous wild-cat that scaled 73 kilos
(over 17 lbs.).
Towards noon, the sun-heat in the gorge being intense, I had
166 Unexplored Spain
cautiously shifted my post to the banks of a mountain-burnlet
that, embowered in oleanders,’ gurgled hard by. In those
glancing streams, while I sat motionless, a pair of water-shrews
were also busied with their lunch—dipping and diving, turning
over pebbles, and searching each nook and cranny of the crystal
pool. Lovely little creatures they were—velvety black with
GRIFFON VULTURE
snow-white undersides, which showed conspicuously on either
flank; but the curious feature was the silver sheen caused by
infinite air-bubbles that still adhered to the fur while they swam
beneath the surface. They recalled a similar scene in an elk-
forest of distant Norway; but never in Spanish sierras have
' The oleander is poisonous to horses and other domestic animals, and is instinctively
avoided by both game and cattle. During the Peninsular War it is recorded that several
British soldiers came by their deaths through this cause. A foraging party cut aud peeled
some oleander branches to use as skewers in roasting meat over the camp-fires. Of twelve
men who ate the meat, seven died.
sz
ROARING (SEPTEMBER).
‘HARET.”
Sierra Morena 167
we noticed water-shrews except on this occasion. While yet
watching the water-fairies, another movement caught the corner
of one eye; with slow sedate steps, a grey wild-cat was
descending the opposite slope. She saw nothing, yet the
foresight of the ‘303 carbine was recusant, it declined to get
down into the nick, and a miss resulted. But what a bound the
feline gave as an expanding bullet (at 2000 feet a second velocity)
shattered the sierra half an inch above her back!
An incident occurred near this point (though in another year)
with a stag. Two shots had been fired on the left, when the
slightest sound behind and above inspired a prepared glance in
that direction—and only just in time, for three seconds later a
glorious pair of antlers showed up
on the nearest bush-clad height,
and the easiest of shots yielded a
35-inch trophy.
The annexed drawing shows a
14-pointer, which was killed here
the following year by our host, Sr.
Don Juan Calvo de Ledn of
Mezquitillas. In mere inches the
measurements may be surpassed
by others, but no head that we have seen excels this in
extraordinary boldness of curve and symmetry of form. This
stag was shot on the Puntales del Peco, January 17, 1908, and
in the same beat Sr. Juan Calvo, Junr., secured another fine
14-pointer, as below :—
Points, Length. Widest Tips. Widest Inside. | Circ. above Bez.
No. 1 14 383" 39)" 334" 6”
No, 2 14 364" ss 252"
Less rosy on that occasion was the writer’s own luck. My
post in Los Puntales was in a narrow neck or “pass” in the
knife-edged ridge of a mountain-spur, the rock-strewn ground,
overgrown with cistus shoulder-high, falling sharply away both
before and behind. In front I looked into a chasm probably
1500 feet in depth, the hither slope being invisible, so sharp was
168 Unexplored Spain
the drop; the opposite side, however (probably 2000 feet high),
lay spread out as it were a perpendicular map. From leagues
away beyond its apex the beaters were now approaching, From
early in the day great fleecy cloud-masses had rolled by, and these
PICKING HIS WAY UP A ROCK STAIRCASE
(A 40-inch head.)
gradually grew denser till the whole sierra was enveloped in
viewless foo. Hark! some animal is escalading my fortress; one
cannot see fifteen yards—tantalizing indeed. Yet so well has the
puesto been chosen that presently the intruder gallops almost over
my toes—a yearling pig or lechon, not worth a bullet.
Sierra Moréna 169
Later, during a clearer interval, I descried a stag picking a
slow and deliberate course down the opposite escarpment. In
the abyss below he was long lost to sight but presently re-
appeared, coming fairly straight in. Seldom have I felt greater
confidence in the alignment than when I then fired. Yet the
result was a clean miss. While pressing trigger, another shot
rang out half-a-mile beyond and the stag swerved sharply ; still I
had another barrel, and the second bullet ‘‘ told” loudly enough
as the hart bounced, full-broadside, over the pass. Then he
swerved to take the rising ground beyond and, crossing the
skyline, displayed the grandest pair of antlers I have seen alive—
170 Unexplored Spain
the great yard-long horns with their branching tops seemed too
big even for that massive body.
On examination blood was found at once, and on both sides
—that is, the bullet had passed right through.
In the fog I had under-estimated the distance and the hit was
low and too far back. With two trackers I followed the spoor
while daylight served and through places that any words of mine
must fail to describe; but from the first the head-keeper had fore-
told the result : “Eso no se cobra—va léjos””—“that stag you will
not recover; he goes far, but wherever he stops, he dies. See
here! the dogs have run his spoor all along, but have not yet
brought him to bay.”
The indications left by the stag on brushwood and rock
conveyed to the trackers’ practised eyes, as clear as words, the
precise position of the wound; and, as foretold, those coveted
antlers were lost, to perish uselessly.
The pack of Mezquitillas was on this occasion reinforced by
those of the Duke of Medinaceli and of the Marquis of Viana—
bringing the total up to seventy hounds. Thus, in Spain, do the
Grandees of a big land, when guests at a monteria, bring with
them their huntsmen, kennelmen, and their packs of hounds—a
system that breathes a comforting sense of space.
Next day being hopelessly wet, I took opportunity of measur-
ing three of the trophies which adorn the hall at Mezquitillas :—
Points. Length. Widest Tips. | Cire. above Bez. |Circ.below Corona,
A 15 381” 383" 64”
B 14 38" 294" 6}" 74
Cc 14 37 Be 3 34”
Roebuck sie sy" ay”
It will be observed that the stag shot a day or two before, and
illustrated above (p. 167), tops the best of these by half an inch.
The somewhat abnormal curve, however, partly explains this.
We must record yet one more memorable day on this estate
of Mezquitillas. This monteria (in January 1910) covered the
region known as the Leoncillo. Upwards of twenty big stags
fen baat
9 Tame hell
‘e wee
kw
Wee ne
Sierra Moréna 171
passed the firing-line, and every gun enjoyed his chance—several
more than one. In the result, six stags were killed—three by
our host, one by his son. Though carrying 12, 11, 10, and 10
points respectively, none of these four were of exceptional merit,
and the best, a 14-pointer, fell to the Duke of Medinaceli.
The clean weight of these, the largest stags, is usually between
11} and 12 arrobas, or 287 to 300 lbs. English. One exceptionally
heavy stag killed by our host’s son, Juan Calvo, Junr., and which
had received some injury in the testes, resulting in a malformation
of the horn, weighed no less than 164 arrobas, or 412 lbs. English.
Full-grown wild-boars at Mezquitillas average about 7 arrobas,
or 175 lbs., clean—one specially big boar reached 8 arrobas, or
200 lbs. Wolves, though abundant, are but rarely shot in
montertas for the reasons already given. During the period
covered by these notes only two were killed in monterfas—one
by Sr. Calvo, Junr., the other by Colonel Barrera. Wild-pigs
breed as a rule in March, and to some extent gregatim, or in
little colonies, which is supposed to be as a protection against the
wolves; the lair (cama) being a regular nest made among thick
scrub, and roofed over by the foliage. Lynxes, like wolves, are
rarely seen. This year, four (a female, with three full-grown cubs)
were held-up by the dogs, and all killed in one thicket.
Mongoose and genets are numerous on these brush-clad hills,
and martens (Mustela foina) breed in the crags.
Stags roar from mid-September, chiefly by night. Their
summer coat is darker rather than redder than that of winter.
Farther east in Moréna, near Fuen-Caliente, already mentioned,
very fine heads are also obtained. The same systems prevail, and
the following measurements have been given us by the Marquéz
del Mérito, taken from two stags shot at Risquillo in his forests
of the Sierra Quintdna, season 1906-7.
Cire. at Burr. Cire. above Bez. Brow- Antler.
Length. | Widest Inside.
No. 1 363” 35” 82" 54” 12”
No. 2 40}" ae 82” 6” 19”
No. 1 carried 7 +7 = 14 points, and weighed 224 lbs. clean.
No. 2 carried 8+7 =15 points, besides several knobs.
L72 Unexplored Spain
Both are shown in photos annexed.
In the extreme east of the Sierra Moréna another culminating
point of excellence appears to be attained—at Valdelagrana and
Zamujar in the neighbourhood of Jiéen—at least it is from that
region that two of the largest examples came that we have yet
seen in Spain. Both the magnificent heads below described were
carefully measured by ourselves :—
‘ Widest Widest Cire. at’ | Cire. above | Circ. below
al ie Le Tips. Inside. Base. Bez. Corona.
No. 1 1 6 408” 40h” 3 14” 74" 58” 7}"
No. 2 16 383" 334" 284" ais 52” 74"
No. 1 was shot at Valdelagrana, Jiéen, by Sr. D. Enrique
Parladé, has five on each top, all strong points, brow-antler 144
inches. Both horns precisely equal, 403 inches.
No. 2 shot at El Zamujar, Jiien, by the Marquéz de Alvéntos,
the whole head massive and rugged, and all the sixteen points
well developed.
The only Spanish stag within our knowledge which exceeds
these dimensions was shot at Ballasteros in the Montes de Toledo
by Sr. D. I. L. de Ybarra, the measurements of which, though not
taken by ourselves, we accept without reserve as follows :—
Length, 41 inches; breadth, 364 inches; circumference below
corona, 84 inches. (See photo.)
Since writing the foregoing, a head much exceeding the above
records has been obtained at Lugar Nuevo, near Andujar, in
the eastern sierra, and which measures no less than 43 inches.
Photographs, with measurements taken by Messrs. Rowland Ward
(both of this and another good head secured at Fontanarejo), have
been sent us by the fortune-favoured sportsman, Mr. J. M. Power
of Linares, and will be found subjoined. For convenience of
reference we put the whole record in tabular form.
[TABLE
RISQUILLO. MARMOLEJOS.
Points 15, plus knobs. Length 404 in. A Twenty-four Pointer.
FONTANAREJO. MONTES DE TOLEDO.
Points 16. Length 324 in. Points 14. Length 41.
RED DEER HEADS, SIERRA MORENA.
Sierra Moréna
i? 3
RECORD OF RED DEER HEADS—SIERRA MORENA
Length Widest. ea
outside above | Points. Locality.
Curve. | ‘Tips. | Inside.) Bez.
in. in. in. in.
J. M. Power 43 35 334 54 6+6 | Lugar Nuevo.
I. L. de Ybarra 41 364 di Ballasteros, Montes
de Toledo.
E. Parladé 403 40% | 314 53 8+8 | Valdelagrana.
Marq. Mérito 404 as ouke 6 7+7 | Risquillos.
Authors 40 364 | 32 54 9+8 | (Wild Spain.)
Marq. Alvéntos 383 334 | 284 53 8+8 | Zamujar, Jéen.
J. Calvo de Ledn. | 38% 394 | 33} 64 7+7 | Mezquitillas.
Do. sel | 283 | .... 64 | 847 Do.
Do. 38 294 64 7+7 Do.
Do. 38 33h 38 ae 747 Do.
Authors 374 344 | 294 5 847 | (Wild Spain.)
Marq. Mérito 364 a 35 54 8+7 | Risquillos.
J. Calvo, hijo 364 ws 252 ee 7+7 | Mezquitillas.
Authors 35 324 | 28 53 6+6 Do.
Do. 344 (cast antler) 53 8+0 | Sa. Quintana.
J. M. Power 324 54 8+8 | Fontanarejo.
CHAPTER XVI
PERNALES
A country better adapted by nature for the success of the
enterprising bandit cannot be conceived. The vast despoblados
=uninhabited wastes, with scant villages far isolated and lonely
mountain-tracts where a single desperado commands the way and
can hold-up a score of passers-by, all lend themselves admirably
to this peculiar form of industry. And up to quite recent years
these natural advantages were exploited to the full. Riding
through the sierras, one notes rude crosses and epitaphs inscribed
on rocks recording the death of this or that wayfarer. Now
travellers, as a rule, do not die natural deaths by the wayside ;
and an inspection of these silent memorials indicates that each
occupies a site eminently adapted for a quiet murder. Fortu-
nately, during the last year or two, the extension of the telegraph
and linking-up of remote hamlets has aided authority practically
to extinguish brigandage on the grander scale. Spain to-day
can no longer claim a single artist of the Jack Sheppard or
Dick Turpin type; not one heroic murderer such as José Maria
(whose safe-conduct was more effective than that of his king),
Vizco el Borje, Agua-Dulce, and other ladrones en grande whose
life-histories will be found outlined in Wild Spain.
The two first-named represent a type of manhood one cannot
but admire—admire despite oneself and despite its inconvenience to
civilisation. These were men ignorant of fear, who, though them-
selves gentle, were yet able, by sheer force of iron will, to command
and control cut-throat gangs which set authority at defiance, and
who subjected whole districts to their anarchical aims and orders.
The outlaw-overlords ever acted on similar lines. Respecting
human life as, in itself, valueless, they commandeered real
value by an adroit combination of liberally subsidising the
peasantry while yet terrorising all by the certainty of swift and
174
Pernales 175
merciless retribution should the least shade of treachery befall
—or rather what to the brigand-crew represented treachery.
Human life was otherwise safe. Two points in this connection
demand mention. Besides direct robberies, the brigands battened
upon a tribute exacted from landowners and paid as a ransom to
shield themselves and their tenants from molestation. Secondly,
their safety and continued immunity from capture was largely
due to that secret influence—quite undefinable, yet potent to this
day —known as “Caciquismo.” That influence was exerted on
behalf of the outlaws as part of the ransom arrangement aforesaid.
Neither for robber-chieftains of the first water, such as these,
nor for brigandage as a scientific business, is there any longer
opportunity in modern Spain, any
more than for a Robin Hood at
home. Lesser lights of the road,
footpads and casual sequestra-
dores, will survive for a further
space in the wilder region; but
the real romance of the industry
ceased with the new century.
Its first decade has neverthe-
less produced a brace of first-rate
ruthans who, though in no sense
to be compared with the old-time
aristocracy of the craft, at least
succeeded in setting at naught the civil power, and in pillaging
and harassing rural Andalucia during more than two years.
The original pair were known as Perndles and El Vivillo, the
latter a man of superior instincts and education, whio, under
former conditions, would doubtless have developed into the noble
bandit. Vivillo on principle avoided bloodshed; not a single
assassination is laid to his charge during a long career of crime.
Pernales, on the contrary, revelled in revolting cruelties, and
rated human life no higher than that of a rabbit. At first this
repulsive ruffian, as hateful of aspect as of character,’ acted as
PERNALES
1 Pernales was born at Estepa, province of Sevilla, September 3, 1878, a ne’er-do-weel
son of honest, rural parents. By 1906 he lad become notorious as a determined criminal,
His appearance and Machiavellian instincts were interpreted as indicating great personal
courage, and, united with his physique, combined to present a repulsive and menacing
figure. A huge head set on broad chest and shoulders, with red hair and deep-set blue eyes,
a livid freckled complexion, thin eyebrows, and one long tusk always visible, protruding
from a horrid mouth, made up a sufficiently characteristic ensemble.
176 Unexplored Spain
a sort of lieutenant to Vivillo, but the partnership was soon
renounced by the latter consequent on a cowardly crime
perpetrated by Pernales in the Sierra of Algamita. At a lonely
farm lived an elderly couple, the husband an industrious, thrifty
man, who had the reputation of being rich among his fellows.
Their worldly possessions in actual fact consisted of some 2000
reales = £20. Pernales was not likely to overlook a hoard so
ill-protected, and one night in November 1906 insisted, at the
muzzle of his gun, on the savings being handed over to him. A
lad of fourteen, however, had witnessed the transaction, and on
perceiving him (and fearing he might thus be denounced) Pernales
plunged his knife in the boy’s breast, killing him on the spot.
Vivillo, on hearing of this insensate murder by his second, insisted
on the restitution of their money to the aged pair, expelled
Pernales from his gang, and threatened him with death should
he dare again to cross his path.
Pernales now formed a fresh partnership with a desperado of
similar calibre to himself, a soulless brute, known as the Nifio de
Arahél, whose acquaintance he had made at a village of that
name. This pair, along with a gang of ruffians who acclaimed
them as chiefs, were destined to achieve some of the worst deeds
of violence in the whole annals of Spanish Bandolerismo. For
two years they held half Andalucia in awe, terrorised by the
ferocity of their methods and merciless disregard of life. None
dared denounce them or impart to authority a word of information
as to their whereabouts, even though it were known for certain
—such was the dread of vengeance.
Innumerable were the skirmishes between the forces of the
law and its outragers. An illustrative incident occurred in
March 1907. A pair of Civil Guards, riding up the Rio de los
Almendros, district of Pruna, suddenly and by mere chance found
themselves face to face with the men they “wanted.” A
challenge to halt and surrender was answered by instant fire, and
the outlaws, wheeling about, clapped spurs to their horses and
fled. Now for the Civil Guards as brave men and dutiful we
have the utmost respect ; but their marksmanship on this occasion
proved utterly rotten, and an easy right-and-left was clean missed
twice and thrice over! The fugitives, moreover, outrode pursuit,
and the fact illustrates their cool, calculating nonchalance, that
so soon as they reckoned on having gained a forty-five minutes’
Pernales i977
advantage, the pair paid a quiet social call on a well-to-do farmer
of Morén, enjoyed a glass of wine with their trembling host, and
then (having some fifteen minutes in hand) rode forward. Now
comes a point. On arrival of the pursuers, that farmer (though
not a word had been said) denied all knowledge of his new-gone
guests. Pursuit was abandoned.
For eight days the bandits lay low. Then Pernales presented
himself at a farm in Ecija with a demand for £40, or in default
the destruction of the live-stock. The bailiff (no farmer lives on
his farm) despatched a messenger on his fleetest horse to bring
in the ransom. As by the stipulated hour he had not returned,
Pernales shot eight valuable mules! Riding thence to La
Coronela, a farm belonging to Antonio Fuentes, the bull-fighter,
a similar message was despatched. Pending its reply our outlaws
feasted on the best; but instead of bank-notes, a force of Civil
Guards appeared on the scene. That made no difference. The
terrified farm-hands swore that the bandits had ridden off in a
given direction, and while the misled police hurried away on a
wild-goose chase, our heroes finished their feast, and late at
night (having loaded up everything portable of value) departed
for their lair in the sierra.
During the next two months (May and June 1907) only
minor outrages and robberies were committed, but that quiescence
was enlivened by two feats that set out in relief the coolness and
unflinching courage of these desperados. In May they moved to
the neighbourhood of Cérdoba, and among other raids pulled off a
good haul in bank-notes, cash, and other valuables at Lucena, an
estate of D. Antonio Moscoso, following this up by a report in
their ‘Inspired Press” that the brigands had at last fled north-
wards with the view of embarking for abroad at Santander! A
few days later, however (May 31), they had the effrontery to
appear in Cédrdoba itself at the opening of the Fair, but, being
early recognised, promptly rode off into the impending Sierra
Moréna. On their heels followed the Civil Guard. Finding
themselves overtaken, our friends faced round and opened fire, but
the result was a defeat of the bandit gang. One, ‘“ El Nifio de la
Gloria,” fell dead pierced by three bullets ; two other scoundrels—
Reverte and Pepino—were captured wounded, while in the mélée
the robbers abandoned four horses, a rifle, and a quantity of
jewelry—the product of recent raids. Pernales himself and the
N
178 Unexplored Spain
rest of his crew escaped, and found shelter in the fastnesses of
the Sierra Moréna—thence returning to their favourite hunting-
grounds nearer Seville.
Riding along the bye-ways of Marchena, disguised as rustic
travellers, on June 2 they demanded at a remote farm a night’s
food and lodging. MHalf-concealed knives and revolvers proved
strong arguments in favour of obedience, and, despite suspicion
and dislike, the bailiff acceded. This time the Civil Guard were
on the track. At midnight they silently surrounded the house,
communicated with the watchful bailiff, and ordered all doors
to be locked. The turning of a heavy key, however, reached
Pernales’ ear. In a moment the miscreants were on the alert.
While one saddled-up the horses, the other unloosed a young farm
mule, boldly led him across the courtyard to the one open doorway,
and, administering some hearty lashes to the animal’s ribs, set
him off in full gallop into the outer darkness. The police, seeing
what they concluded was an attempted escape, first opened fire,
then started helter-skelter in pursuit of a riderless mule! The
robbers meanwhile rode away at leisure.
Five days later, on June 7, both bandits attacked a venta,
or country inn, near Los Santos, in Villafranca de los Barrios,
carrying off £200 in cash, six mules, with other valuables, and
leaving the owner for dead. This particular crime, for some
reason or other, was more noised abroad than dozens of others
equally atrocious, and orders were now issued jointly both by
the Mimstro de Gobernacion, the Captain-General of the district,
and the Colonels commanding the Civil Guard throughout the
whole of the harassed regions, that at all hazards the murderous
pair must be taken at once, dead or alive. This peremptory
mandate evolved unusual activities; the whole of the western
sierra was reported blockaded. Pernales, nevertheless, receiving
warning through innumerable spies of the police plans, succeeded
in escaping from the province of Seville into that of Cérdoba,
where the pair pursued their career of crime, though now under
conditions of increased hazard and difficulty. Sometimes for
days together they lay low or contented themselves with petty
felonies.
Then suddenly in a new district—that of Puente-Genil—
burst out a fresh series of the most audacious outrages. Big
sums of money, with alternative of instant death, were extorted
Pernales 179
from farmers and landowners. These exploits, together with an
odd murder or two, spread consternation throughout the new
area, and in all Puente-Genil, Pernales and the Nifo de Arahal
became a standing nightmare. So soon as checked here by the
police, the robbers once more moved west, again “ inspiring ”
the press with reports of a foreign destination—this time wid
Cadiz. A few days later, Mélaga was named as their intended
exit. Yet on July 16 they were to the north of Seville, and
had another rifle-duel with the Guards, again escaping scatheless
at a gallop.
Persecution was now so keen that the wilds of the Sierra
Moréna afforded their only possible hope, and by holding the
highest passes the outlaws reached this refuge, being next reported
at Venta de Cardefias, 160 miles north of Cérdoba. A cordon of
police was now drawn along the whole fringe of the sierra from
Vizco del Marquéz to Despefiaperros. The position of the hunted
couple became daily more precarious, their scope of activity more
restricted, and robberies reduced to insignificant proportions.
Nevertheless, on July 22, with consummate audacity and dash,
they raided the farm of Recena belonging to D. Tomas Herrera,
carrying off a sum of £160, with which they remained content
till August 18, when they attacked the two farms of Vencesla
and Los Villares, but, being repulsed, fled northwards towards
Ciudad Real. On September 1 they entered the province of
La Mancha, apparently seeking shelter in the deep defiles of
the Sierra de Alcardz, for that morning a Manchegan wood-
cutter was accosted by two mounted wayfarers who inquired
the best track to Alcardéz. The woodman innocently gave
directions which, if exactly followed, would much shorten the
route. While thanking his informant, Pernales—apparently out
of sheer bravado—revealed his identity, introducing himself to
the astonished woodcutter as the Fury who was keeping all
authority on the jump and the country-side ablaze. Straightway
the man of the axe made for the nearest guard-station, and a
captain with six mounted police, reinforced by peasants, followed
the trail. As dusk fel] the pursuers perceived two horses tethered
in a densely wooded dell, while hard by their owners sat eating
and drinking—the latter imprudence perhaps explaining why the
brigands were at last caught napping. To the challenge “ Alto
4 la Guardia Civil!” came the usual prompt response — the
180 Unexplored Spain
vibrant whistle of rifle-balls. Pernales managed to empty the
magazine of his repeater, killing one guard outright and wounding
two more. Though himself hit, he yet stood erect, and was busy
recharging his weapon when further shots brought him to earth.
On seeing his chief go down the Nifo de Arahal sprang to the
saddle, but the opposing rifles were this time too many and too
near. The bandit, fatally wounded, was pitched to earth in
death-throes, while the poor beast stumbled and fell in its stride
a few paces beyond. An examination of the bodies showed that
Pernales had been pierced by twenty-two balls, his companion by
ten.
CACIQUISMO
Doubtless the thought may have occurred to readers that
some interpretation is necessary to explain how such events as
these (extending over a series of years) are still possible in Spain—
in a country fully equipped not only with elaborate legal codes
bristling with stringent penalties both for crime and its abettors,
but also with magistrates, judges, telegraphs, and an ample
armed force, competent, loyal, and keen to enforce those laws.
Without assistants and accomplices (call their aiders and abettors
what you will) the Pernales and Vivillos of to-day could not
survive for a week. The explanation lies in the existence of that
inexplicable and apparently ineradicable power called Caciquismo
—fortunately, we believe, on the decline, but still a force sufficient
to paralyse the arm of the law and arrest the exercise of justice.
Ranging from the lowest rungs of society, Caciquismo penetrates
to the main-springs of political power. A secret understanding
with combined action amongst the affiliated, it secures protection
even to criminals with their hidden accomplices, provided that
each and all yield blind obedience to their ruling Cacique, social
and political. The Cacique stands above law; he is a law unto
himself ; he does or leaves undone, pays or leaves unpaid as may
suit his convenience—conscience he has none. At his own sweet
will he will charge personal expenses—say his gamekeepers’
wages or the cost of a private roadway—to the neighbouring
municipality. None dare object. Caciquismo is no fault of the
Spanish people ; it is the disgrace of the Caciques, who, as men of
education, should be ashamed of mean and underhand practices
that recall, on a petty scale, those of the Tyrants of Syracuse.
Pernales 181
Should any of these sleek-faces read our book, they may be
gratified to learn that no other civilised country produces parasites
such as they.
Not a foreign student of the problems of social life in Spain
with its conditions but has been brought to a full stop in the
effort to diagnose or describe the secret sinister influence of
Caciquismo. Our Spanish friends—detesting and despising the
thing equally with ourselves—tell us that no foreigner has yet
realised either its nature or its scope. Certainly we make no
such pretension, nor attempt to describe the thing itself-—a thing
scarce intelligible to Saxon lines of thought, a baneful influence
devised to retard the advance of modern ideas of freedom and
justice, to benumb all moral yearnings for truth and honesty in
public affairs and civil government. Caciquismo may roughly be
defined as the negation and antithesis of patriotism ; it sets the
personal influence of one before the interest of all, sacrificing
whole districts to the caprice of some soul-warped tyrant with
no eyes to see.
A word in conclusion on Vivillo. Neither ignorance nor
necessity impelled Joaquin Camargo, nicknamed El Vivillo (the
Lively Oue), to embark, at the age of twenty-five, on a career of
crime. Rather it was that spirit of knight-errantry, of reckless
adventure, that centuries before had swept the Spanish Main, and
that nowadays, in baser sort, thrives and is fostered by a false
romance—as Diego Corrientes, the bandit, was reputed to be
“yun” by a duchess, as the “Seven Lads of Ecija” terrorised
under the egis of exalted patronage, and José Maria, the
murderer of the Sierra Moréna, was extolled as a melodramatic
hero by novelists all over Spain. On such lines young Camargo
thought to gather fresh glories for himself. He early gained
notoriety by a smart exploit in holding-up the diligence from Las
Cabezas for Villa Martin just when the September Fair was
proceeding at the latter place. The passengers, mostly cattle-
dealers, were relieved of bursting purses—no cheques pass current
at Villa Martin—to the tune of £8000. After that, for several
years, Vivillo ruled rural Andalucia, and his desperate deeds
supplied the papers with startling head-lines. When pursuit
became troublesome he embarked for Argentina, and soon his
name was forgotten. His retreat, however, was discovered,
182 Unexplored Spain
and Vivillo was brought back, landing at Cadiz February 19,
1908. Since that date he has lived in Seville prison—a man of
hich intelligence, of reputed wealth, and the father of two pretty
daughters. For reasons unexplained (and into which we do not
inquire) his trial never comes on. Vivillo keeps a stiff lip and
enjoys... nearly all he wants.
A SUMMER EVENING—SPARROW-OWLS (Althene noctna) AND MOTHS
CHAPTER XVII
LA MANCHA
THE LAGOONS OF DAIMIEL
IMMEDIATELY to the north of our ‘“‘ Home-Province” of Andalucia,
but separated therefrom by the Sierra Moréna, stretch away the
uplands of La Mancha—the
country of Don Quixote. The
north-bound traveller, ascend-
ing through the rock-gorges
of Despefiaperros, thereat
quits the mountains and enters
on the Manchegan plateau.
A more dreary waste, ugly
and desolate, can scarce be
imagined. Were testimony
wanting to the compelling
genius of Cervantes, in very
truth La Mancha itself would
yield it.
Yet it is wrong to describe
La Mancha as barren. Rather its central highlands present a
monotony of endless uninteresting cultivation. League-long
furrows traverse the landscape, running in parallel lines to utmost
horizon, or weary the eye by radiating from the focal point as
spokes in a wheel. But never a break or a bush relieves one’s
sight, never a hedge or a hill, not a pool, stream, or tree in a
long day’s journey. Oh, it is distressing, wherever seen—in
Old World or New—that everlasting cultivation on the flat.
True, it produces the necessary fruits of the earth—here (to wit)
corn and wine.
183
184 Unexplored Spain
Farther north, where the Toledan mountains loom blue over
the western horizon, La Mancha refuses to produce anything.
The unsympathetic earth, for 100 miles a sterile hungry
erust, stony and sun-scorched, obtrudes an almost hideous
nakedness, its dry bones declining to be clad, save in flints or
fragments of lava and splintered granite. Wherever nature is
a trifle less austere, a low growth of dwarf broom and helian-
themum at least serves to vary the dreariness of dry pvrairie-
grass. There, beneath the foothills of the wild Montes de Toledo,
stretch whole regions where thorn-scrub and broken belts of
open wood vividly recall the scenery of equatorial Africa—we
might be traversing the “Athi Plains” instead of European
WOODCHAT SHRIKE AND ITS ‘‘SHAMBLES”
(Sketched in La Mancha)
lands. Evergreen oak and wild-olive replace mimosa and thorny
acacia—one almost expects to see the towering heads of giraffes
projecting above the grey-green bush. In both cases there is
driven home that living sense of arid sterility, the same sense
of desolation—nay, here even more so—since there is lacking that
wondrous wild fauna of the other. No troops of graceful gazelles
bound aside before one’s approach; no herds of zebra or
antelope adorn the farther veld; no galloping files of shaggy
gnus spurn the plain. 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
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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.