Other days were devoted to stalking the ibex--each, with his _cazador_

and a single gun-carrier, on a separate hill; and this was perhaps the

hardest work of all, involving almost incessant climbing, scrambling,

and walking on the worst of ground from morning till long after dark.

But in this sport we have hitherto met with no success, either on this

or other occasions. The Spanish ibex is so scarce, so rarely seen on the

move by daylight, and so wedded to snow-fields beyond human reach, that

it is by mere chance they are found in situations where a stalk is

possible--very different to the descriptions we have by such men as

Kinloch and Macintyre, of the sport that ibex afford in the Himalayas.

There it would seem that _Capra sibirica_ is not infrequently to be

found resting, feeding, or moving about by day on mountain-sides

considerably below the snow, and in situations where it is possible for

the stalker to approach them _from above_. In Spain, where the

wild-goats are much harassed, we have never had the luck to fall in with

such opportunities: though that such _do_ occur is demonstrated in a

subsequent chapter ("Ramon and the two big Rams"). Here, in Gredos, and

also in the Andalucian sierras, it has not hitherto been our good

fortune to fall in with ibex where a stalk was even remotely possible.

Though ibex might be in sight daily, they have been found either on open

ground or snow, or in crags surrounded by snow--either position equally

inaccessible to human beings--save on two occasions, both towards

evening, when goats have been descried on somewhat lower ground than

usual; but, alas! on the opposite mountain-side, far away, and separated

from us by an intervening gorge, to cross which and re-ascend the

further slope would have occupied well nigh half a day. Had such

opportunities but occurred _in the morning_, instead of the evening, it

is just possible that this record of our ibex-stalking days might not

have resulted in a blank.

It is, however, fair to add that we have never tried ibex-stalking in

_summer_, when the obstruction of the snow would naturally be much less;

the goats, on the other hand, have then a vastly extended field to roam

over.

II.--RISCOS DE VALDEREJO.

Far away to the eastward, a triple-peaked mountain filled the whole

horizon. From the distance it appeared to be composed solely of barren

grey granite, and only sparse patches and striæ of snow adorned its

crests. This was the Riscos de Valderejo, and on its heights there

roamed, we were told, a good band of ibex, including some _machos_ of

the first rank.

To this sierra we projected a spring campaign. The distance (by road)

from the nearest available base was some thirty miles, along smiling

valleys redolent of historic interest; past castellated monasteries and

fortresses, relics of feudal times, now abandoned to farmers, and to

storks, whose nests lined the battlements; for the plough had long

superseded the sword, and now the deep glens glory in husbandry and

viticulture. Here corn and vine grow beneath olive, fig, and chestnut:

verily fruit and grain seem to jostle each other--it is hard to conceive

a more fertile scene; the air vocal with the melody of nightingales and

orphean warblers, and the ringing note of golden orioles. The peasantry

live in crazy, ramshackle hamlets, whose quaint picturesqueness is

beyond our power to describe, but spend their _al fresco_ lives in the

field or the vineyard, doing a modicum of work, and a maximum of rest,

eating, sleeping, or chatting, in happy, contented groups beneath the

grateful shade of the chestnuts.[36]

Our road was a marvel of extravagant engineering, executed and

maintained regardless of expense. It is only another of the many

anomalies of Spain that in rich provinces, such as Andalucia, where

there are carriages and traffic, there should be no roads; here, in the

wilds of Castile, where there are neither traffic nor wheeled carriages,

the road-system is magnificent. The explanation appears to be: in the

one case, the Government says "you have money, and can make your own

roads,"--in the other, "there is no money, so we will provide roads,"

even though they are not required.

The Riscos de Valderejo is an isolated mountain, cut off from

neighbouring heights by deep gorges on all sides, save where a high, but

narrow "neck" connects it on the west with the main range. Across this

neck (5,000 feet) is carried the northern highway--the _carretera de

Avila_, along which is carried on at intervals a frequent transit of

mule-teams, droves of cattle, sheep, and the like. At the time of our

first visit this traffic was almost continuous, for the ancient "Fair"

of Talavera (40 miles away) was drawing supplies from all the provinces

of Spain: fine young mules from far Galicia, horses even from the

Asturias, cattle, goats and sheep, including a few merinos, from

pastoral Leon. By day or night the monotonous tinkle of the _cencerros_

(cattle-bells) ceased not on this and many another highway and byeway

for many a weary league around Talavera.

Such is still, in Spain, the far-reaching power of the "Feria," or Fair:

an institution antiquated and out of date in modern lands. Yet the

business and bustle, the display of national types and characteristics

at the great provincial "fairs"--such as that at Talavera--offer

pictures of Spanish rural life abounding in interest, and well worthy of

study and observant description. But the pen must be directed by

sympathy and understanding, or the result will merely be so much more of

that silly writing and grotesque "wit," with which we are already only

too well acquainted. _Pero!... vámonos!_ To our ibex.

Well, the narrow _col_ or neck, connecting the Riscos with the

neighbouring heights, being thus contaminated--for the wild goat will

never cross a path or suffer the propinquity of man--the ibex of that

sierra form an isolated colony, absolutely cut off from all contact with

their fellows. That such should be able to survive on so limited a

space--their territory is but eight miles by four--amidst a nation of

_tiradores_, is partly due to a curious local circumstance. A pair of

guardias civiles, the military police of Spain, is stationed close below

the col. Here is the explanation. None of the _serranos_ pay the

gun-license,--twenty shillings,--and capture, red-handed, means

disarmament. Hence the presence of this pair of civil guards signifies

nothing less than security to the isolated ibex of the Riscos; their

withdrawal would be the signal for extermination within a few years.

We had already pitched our tent on a slope above the col (5,600 feet),

just within the lower fringe of snow, and were wondering at the

non-arrival of our hunters. They had taken a short cut across the

mountains, and should have been the first to reach the spot. But after

enjoying a delicious bathe in an adjoining burn, and setting on the

_olla_ to stew on an improvised _anafe_ (a hollowed trench, in the deep

centre of which was kindled a fire), we suddenly saw them all appear,

leaping down the opposite slope with the agile bounds of wild animals.

They had simply lain hidden for hours, reconnoitring the movements of

the civil guards! Their first act on arrival was to hide their guns

among the green _piornales_. Again, when one evening the dreaded pair

was reported to be ascending towards our eyry, the stampede was

electric--each man seized his gun and all disappeared like rabbits among

the rocks. The incident serves to show the effective power wielded by

this fine corps in rural Spain.

[Illustration: Plate XXII.

OUR CAMP ON THE RISCOS DE VALDEREJO.

Page 152.]

The conformation of this sierra was simple--on the north side the slope

was gradual, though abrupt: on the south almost perpendicular: that is,

it formed a sheer rock-wall some three miles long and perhaps 2,000 feet

high, measuring from the head of the talus.[37] We found here a herd of

nearly a score of ibex, ensconced in well-frequented lairs among the

loose rocks and _piornales_ along the highest ridge (they had not been

disturbed for months), and on so limited an area felt sure of more

certain success than on the boundless sierras of Gredos, with their

snow-sanctuaries always open to the ibex. But matters were not so

simple, nor were the goats. Here, too, they had their sanctuaries. We

will not weary the reader with merely sporting detail, but go at once to

the point. After being "hustled" for two or three days (during which the

big males always managed to keep out of shot), the ibex-leaders

evidently realized the gravity of the situation: a vote of urgency was

carried, and the Riscos declared in a state of siege. The space at their

command was limited: there were no snow-fields available: and they

resolved to seek safety in those impenetrable rock-walls and _canchos_

which flanked their stronghold on the south. Into these they retreated:

and from them, no power of ours could dislodge the ibex, though among

the slanting _canchos_ on the western flank our intrepid rock-climbers

despatched a couple of slouching wolves. By sheer force of reasoning

power and sagacity, the ibex had found a retreat as secure as the _mer

de glace_ of Almanzor. Long may they live to enjoy it!

[Illustration: IBEX-HUNTERS OF GREDOS--A SKETCH BY THE CAMP-FIRE.]

The retreat, however, was not gained, on one occasion, without loss--we,

too, had learned by past experience. Already the driving line had

appeared on the eastern heights, suggesting that another beat was to

prove blank: not a sign of game had appeared--nothing save the Alpine

choughs[38] and crag-martins, Alpine swifts, and a pair of peregrines

gyrating in the upper air: at intervals also a pair of golden eagles,

whose huge eyrie projected from a rocky pinnacle, passed over in stately

flight, their broad square tails deflected very conspicuously sidelong,

to guide their aërial evolutions. Here purple tufts of saxifrage lent

colour to the barren greys: and amidst the fringe of snow grew delicate

mauve and white crocuses: on a granite rock, hard by, warbled lustily a

little songster, not unlike our hedge-sparrow, but whose scientific name

is _Anthus spipoletta_, its tender blue-grey throat swelled with song.

Suddenly a new sound diverted instant attention from all such things--it

was a loud "sneeze," twice repeated: and I knew that some wild animal

stood close behind the big rock which concealed me. Then followed the

clatter of horny hoofs rattling on rock: and a few moments later, upon

the very ridge where I lay, not ten yards from the muzzle, appeared a

pair of ibex. Hardly a whole instant did they pause--pictures of

high-strung wild nature, and quivering in every nerve--a lovely

spectacle. At ten yards' range (_á boca de jarro_ in Spanish phrase), my

right barrel missed fire: and simultaneously the ibex were gone--had

leaped off the ridge and down among the rocks a dozen yards below. They

were, however, still near enough; and the second bullet sent the largest

pitching forward on its knees, all but dividing the spine. It instantly

recovered its feet, and the pair went on: but on a rock-ledge a

quarter-mile away they stopped, and one lay down: a long range, random

shot from the express, and the other went on alone: but the stricken

beast was already dead. And then, on the rocks close by, I perceived a

little wild kid, long of limb and somewhat ungainly in form, but of

infinite grace in movement. Tame and confiding seemed the little mite;

yet on approach, it bounded off down those broken rocks, with a speed

and agility that defied pursuit. These two ibex were, in Spanish words,

a _cabra_ and a _chivata_.

Five other ibex (two males) sought to reach the refuge of the main

rock-wall by a lower pass, where two guns were posted. Here, as they

scrambled slantingly up the perpendicular face, one bullet sped true,

and the best _macho_ fell back, struggling to maintain a foot-hold. This

his paralyzed quarters forbade, and soon what little life remained was

extinguished as the stricken animal fell bouncing from rock to rock till

it finally lodged in a cleft of a projecting spur. He proved an

eight-year-old ram, with horns measuring nearly twenty-eight inches in

length, with a circumference of over nine inches and a "sweep" of nearly

twenty-three.

At length the time arrived to bid farewell to these rock-ramparts of Old

Castile, and their primitive simple folk, kindly and honest as the day;

Dionysio actually returned to our camp before daylight next morning--a

two-league walk--to return a pair of boots left by one of us at his

cottage! Each man already seemed an old friend. "Hasta la otra," said

Juan Guarro y Guarro as he offered his hand, "y si no, que lo pasen

ustedes bien!"--"Till the next time, and, if for ever, fare ye well!"

The conclusions we came to were that both our visits were rather too

early (May), and that the most favourable season for ibex-shooting is in

July and August: but even then, whether by stalking or driving, the work

is hard in the extreme.

[Illustration: IBEX (FEMALE)--RISCOS DE VALEDREJO.]

CHAPTER XIII.

IBEX-SHOOTING IN SPAIN--(CONTINUED).

III.--SIERRA BERMEJA (MEDITERRANEAN).

In the last chapter are described some experiences with ibex in the

distant cordilleras of Castile: but we have the wild _cabra montés_ much

nearer--indeed within sight of our Andalucian home. The Sierra Nevada is

one of their chief abodes, and herds of goats roam the still nearer

heights of Ubrique, Bermeja, and the Palmitera. As the circumstances of

the ibex here vary from those already described, we now add some details

of campaigns on these Mediterranean ranges.

We pitched our tents one March evening on a narrow flat plateau, barely

over 2,000 feet, at a point in the Bermeja range, where our pioneer--we

had employed a native _cazador_ to "prospect" for five or six weeks--had

localized two or three small herds of ibex. The steep mountain-sides

around were clad to their utmost summits with strong brushwood and with

scattered patches of pine and a species of fir

(_pinsapo_)--admirable-looking ground for pig, but not at all so,

according to preconceived ideas, for the wild-goat. It was, therefore,

an agreeable surprise when, early next morning, there were descried

three ibex, quietly grazing on the bloom of the _abolága_ brush beyond a

deep ravine, and only about 1,000 feet above the camp. These three,

while we watched, were joined by another two, when some make-believe

"sparring" ensued between a pair of rams: but at this season (March)

there was obviously no great development of the combative instinct.

The next spectacle was less welcome. On the height of the ridge, high

above us, we descried against the sky-line the crouching figure of a

man, stealthily advancing as though in touch of game. This ill-omened

apparition, as the sequel proved, was the key-note of this campaign: the

_semana santa_ of Easter-tide had commenced, we were forestalled by

native _cazadoras_, and a carefully-planned and well-organized

exhibition resulted in comparative failure. Nor had the danger of this

been entirely unforeseen, but adverse circumstances had delayed our

movements.

[Illustration: IBEX (FEMALE)--BERMEJA.]

Despite our local competitors, luck at first seemed inclined to be

propitious. While going to our positions, along the knife-edged spur

that enclosed our glen, an ibex fell to the rifle of one of our party,

who had come suddenly on five (four good males) quietly feeding in a

pine-clad corrie, and a standing shot, at 70 yards, secured

one--unfortunately the only _cabra_; for, their heads being concealed

among the scrub, the sex was not distinguished. This female (shot March

26th) was found, on being gralloched, to contain a pair of kids, which

would not have seen the light under three weeks. Another female,

followed by her _chivata_, was shot on this beat, though eventually

lost, by one of our Spanish _cazadores_, Juan Marquéz.

The field of our operations was _all_ scrub--strong thorny bushes

clothing the steep and rock-strewn slopes, amidst which we subsequently

found many "lairs" of the ibex--regular seats, like those of a hare or

fox. Hidden in these strongholds, the ibex, our men asserted, would

deliberately allow the beaters to pass them by: but we have strong

grounds for the opinion that this only applied to the _females_--all

ages or sexes, be it repeated, are alike to a _cazador_--and never to

the males, which, always wild and crafty, rely for safety on far bolder

tactics and modes of escape.

Pines and fir interspersed the scrub to the very _reales_ or utmost

heights of Bermeja--4,800 feet by aneroid: and Palmitera, though the

snow lies longer there, is of a trifle less altitude. Though, on this

occasion, our sport was marred and exuberance of spirit tempered by the

constant competition of local hunters--by those visions of the hated

"gente de Enalguacil" scampering like the goats themselves up the rocks

before us--yet, at least, we enjoyed, from the crest of Bermeja, a

spectacle which is probably without rival in Europe, and the like of

which we have not gazed upon in our lives. Looking down from near 5,000

feet altitude, we had portions of two continents spread out as a map at

out feet. The vast expanse of deep blue Mediterranean visible from such

elevations is hard to picture--the level sea appears to tower up,

regardless of physical laws, among the clouds themselves: yet, far

beyond its southern shores, we could look right into the dark continent,

across range beyond range of African mountains, terminating only in the

glittering snow-peaks of the Atlas, on the verge of Saharan deserts.

Gibraltar looked like a tiny islet in the Straits, midway between Jebel

Moosa's cloud-wreathed mass, and the loftier Spanish sierras beyond

Algesiraz. Tangier, Ceuta, and Melilla, on the African shore, were

faintly discernible; and, on the Spanish side, the unbroken snows of

Nevada, fifty miles away, glistened in the sunshine as though within

rifle-shot, with all the swelling _vegas_ of Western Andalucia; while,

right beneath us, lay the rich _Ensenada de Marbella_, the fertile

fringe that borders the Mediterranean, white with waving fields of

sugar-cane, cotton, and carob, prolific of date-palm and fig-tree, of

corn, oil, and wine--one of earth's most fruitful gardens.

From our posts, at the head of a dizzy tumble of rocks and screes, no

fewer than five distinct mountain-ranges were in sight, one-rising

beyond the other, the last and loftiest clad in snow. To and fro in

mid-air, far beneath, sailed a superb pair of lammergeyers, their

expanded pinions gleaming almost white in the sunlight. These giant

birds had their eyry in a series of granite _canchos_ near the apex of

the gorge; but, at intervals, also entered a cave in another crag which,

we subsequently ascertained, had formed their home in a previous year.

Amongst the birds observed here, which may be mentioned as typical of

the Mediterranean sierras, were golden, booted, and Bonelli's eagles, a

single griffon-vulture, peregrine and goshawk, a pair of sparrow-hawks,

busy carrying sticks, ravens, jays, great spotted woodpecker, wrens,

crag-martins (_Cotile rupestris_), the usual chats, and a few cushats.

Hawfinches and great tits were abundant among the pines, and in the

early dawn the melodious song of the blue-thrush reminded one of

Scandinavian springs and the redwing's note. Another small bird causes

recurrent annoyance to the ibex-shooter. With a loud "rat-tat-tat,"

closely resembling the patter of horny hoofs on rock, its song

commences; then follows a curious hissing note, not unlike the passing

of a heavy body through brushwood--for a moment one hopes that the

coveted and long-awaited game at length is coming. No! confound that

bird; it's only a redstart!

[Illustration: Plate XXIII.

Page 161.

IBEX-HUNTING--A SKETCH IN THE SIERRA BERMEJA.]

No ibex, however, appeared here to us expectant. The natives,

_tiradores_ of Enalguacil, of Cöin and other hamlets of the sierra,

sleeping on the open hill, and possessing twice our speed of foot on

their native rocks, were always on our front; and in order to get clear

of competition, we moved our camp across the ridge to the north. This

operation involved sending forward at daybreak a dozen men with hatchets

to clear a way for the laden mules, some fifty or sixty well-grown

pines, with hundreds of lesser growth, perishing before a passage was

practicable. We encamped on a forest-opening at a spot called the Majáda

del Alcornoque, altitude 3,400 feet, the same evening--first having to

remove several hundred stones from the camping-ground, for almost each

afforded shelter to a scorpion or gigantic centipede.

Here, during the next few days, we had the (to us) singular experience

of ibex-driving in thick pine-forest and deep wooded ravines, with

generally a strong undergrowth of bushes and scrub--the _beau idéal_ of

a roe-deer country, but the last place in the world in which we should

have expected wild-goat. The goats were there, nevertheless, for females

and young males were seen on different occasions by guns or beaters. In

one tremendous clam-shaped gorge, an ibex and a wild pig were both on

foot at once! The only ibex the present writer had the luck to see in

this part of the sierra--which seemed to be composed almost entirely of

ironstone and other mineral ores--was by a purely fortuitous encounter.

On the sudden lifting of a dense cloud-bank which rested on the

mountain-side, I descried, right above me, four ibex--including two

fair-sized rams--all standing on a projecting rock, in bold relief

against the sky, and not above 400 yards away. The intervening ground

was rugged--rocks and brushwood with scattered pines--and, except for

the first fifty yards, the stalk seemed to offer no great difficulty.

Already I had passed the dangerous bit, and had crawled near 200 yards,

when, alas! in a moment the wet mist settled down again, and I saw no

more of the game.

Curiously, on the fog first lifting, a large eagle sat, all bedraggled

and woe-begone, on a rock-point not forty yards from my shelter, his

feathers all fluffed out, and a great yellow talon protruding, as it

seemed, from the very centre of his chest. Then a faint sun-ray played

on his tawny plumage; he shook himself together, and launched out in air

to renew his hunt, sweeping downwards close past me--luckily without

disturbing the ibex, though I saw them take note of the circumstance.

To our other misfortunes was now superadded the discomfort of bad

weather. Here is an extract from diary:--March 31st.--Glass fell last

night four-tenths to 25' 85", and the morning broke with a whole gale

from W., bitterly cold, with driving masses of cloud, gradually changing

to rain and sleet--a bad prospect.

[Illustration: SOARING VULTURE.]

The rain, fog, and gale continuing, sporting operations were

interrupted, and a fine male ibex, shot the night before, was lost, it

being no longer possible to follow the trail. We endured a pretty bad

time of it, under canvas, in our mountain-perch; but for our poor

beaters it was ten-fold worse--sleeping on the bare ground beneath

torrential rains, or under such scant shelter of pine-branches as they

could rig up.

We had about a score of these mountaineers in our employ--a

wild-looking lot, who, when not otherwise engaged, were chiefly

_contrabandistas_. Many of these _serranos_ had joined our party purely

for the love of sport, and for no pay beyond such frugal fare as our

camp might afford--scanty enough some days, though good red wine and

cigarettes were never wanting. The previous week a somewhat serious

affray, we now heard, had taken place close by. A gang of 100 smugglers

convoying thirty horse-loads of tobacco, &c., were attacked at the

passage of the Guadiarro by a force of fifty carabineers. Many shots

were exchanged, the smugglers being armed with Remingtons, with the

result that seven men were killed and many others wounded. The whole of

the thirty cargoes were eventually captured, but the horses escaped, the

smugglers cutting the girth-ropes; nor were any prisoners made. This

information was given us by the Colonel of carabineers commanding the

district, whom we met a few days later in Estepona.

Here is another reflex of local character--a cutting from a Malaga paper

of April 1st, 1891, among the ordinary items of local news:--

"BANDIDO.--The Civil Guard of Malaga encountered on Wednesday, near

Cöin, the celebrated bandit Mena, who has long held the whole of that

district in terror. The individuals of the Civil Guard demanded his

surrender, to which summons he replied with the discharge of his weapon.

This brought on a ferocious struggle, resulting in the death of the

freebooter, who received two bullet-wounds from his aggressors."

Such tendencies become infectious, and, as a relief to the tedium of

forced inactivity, and wet days under canvas--for the flooded

_gargantas_ made sport impossible--it occurred to one restless spirit

that we might ourselves embark in this popular business of

_bandolerismo_. Had we not a score of bold brigands ready at our hand?

And, besides, there was not wanting eminently suitable material for

"sequestration"--what a subject for a chapter! But ... well, the

opportunity was thrown away, and, the deluge still continuing, in the

morning our smuggler-chief, old Marquéz, came in to say that the

people, like the Israelites of old, wished to depart, each man to his

own house--"cada uno a su casa."

[Illustration: FOREST-IBEX--BERMEJA. (Showing narrower sweep of horn.)]

Though we did not succeed in obtaining a really first-rate ibex-head

during this campaign in the southern sierras, yet, judging from two

_machos_ subsequently secured on an adjacent range (three and

five-year-old males respectively), the difference in the form of horn in

these forest-haunting goats from those of the Alpine sierras is only

trifling. Compared with circumference, the horns are of lesser length,

and hardly, perhaps, branch out so widely; but that may, after all, be

only a question of age.

IBEX-STALKING.--It may occur to the sportsman-reader to observe that we

have said very little of ibex-_stalking_. The reason is that, as before

mentioned, we have little but negative experiences to relate, having met

with no success ourselves in that sport. Both in Andalucia and the

Castiles we have followed some of the longest and most severe days' work

in search of ibex, but without success. The ibex are relatively _very

scarce_, scattered sparsely over vast areas, and rarely to be seen on

the move during daylight. It is, of course, in all stalking a first

essential that a great extent of country be brought under survey. This

implies covering long distances; and the extreme difficulties of

locomotion on the Spanish cordilleras forbid this. We do not speak

without a basis of comparative experience, having seen something of

mountain-game in various lands. It may be that we lack speed of foot in

traversing those rugged rock-peaks--we are far from denying this, let

those smile who may. Few will do so who have once attempted to seek out

and stalk the wild ibex--or it may be only bad luck. At any rate, our

hardest days on Nevada or Gredos have not, so far, been rewarded by a

single shot, or even by the sight of an ibex in a position where a stalk

might be dreamt of.

IV.--NEVADA AND THE ALPUJARRAS--TEN DAYS IN A SNOW-CAVE.

The grandeur of the Sierra Nevada, with its lofty sky-lines, all white

and clean-cut against an azure background, majestic Mulahacen and the

Picachos de la Veleta, are familiar objects to most visitors to Southern

Spain. The majority, however, are content with the distant view from the

palace-fortresses of the Alhambra or the turrets of the Generalife. Few

dream of penetrating those alpine solitudes or scaling their peaks,

which look so near, yet cost such toil and labour to gain. Yet the

labour is repaid, if the traveller has an eye for what is wildest and

grandest in nature.

For ourselves, we are not ashamed to admit that these snow-clad sierras

possess attractions that transcend in interest even the accumulated

art-treasures and wealth of historic and legendary lore that surround

the shattered relics of Moslem rule--of an empire-city where for seven

centuries the power and faith of the crescent dominated the south-west

of Europe, and which formed the home and the centre of mediæval chivalry

and culture. These subjects and sentiments, moreover, stand in no need

of a historian: they have engaged the sympathy of legion pens, many

directed by a grace, a power and a knowledge to which we dream not of

aspiring. To us Granada has rather been merely a "base of operations"

whence the ibex and lammergeyer might conveniently be studied or

pursued.

Of our own experiences amidst the twin heights of Nevada and the

Alpujarras we might write: but, in this case, we have preferred to avail

ourselves of certain notes for which we are indebted to two good friends

and thorough sportsmen, in the hope that the change may be to the reader

a pleasing contrast from the _semper ego_ otherwise inevitable.

* * * * *

On a bitterly cold March morning we found ourself, as day slowly broke,

traversing the outspurs of the sierra--on the scene of the great

earthquake of 1884, evidences of which were plentiful enough among the

scattered hill-villages. Already many mule-teams, heavily laden with

merchandise from the coast-town of Motril, were wending their laborious

way inland. It is worth noting that in front of five or six laden mules

it is customary to harness a single donkey. This animal does little

work: but always passes approaching teams on the proper side, and,

moreover, picks out the best parts of the road. This enables the driver

to go to sleep, and the plan, we were told, is a good one.

At Lanjaron we breakfasted at the ancient _fonda_ of San Rafael, where

the bright and beautifully polished brass and copper cooking utensils

hanging on the walls were a sight to make a careful housewife envious.

We watched our breakfast cooked over the charcoal-fire, and learned a

good deal thereby. We were delayed here a whole day by snow-storms.

There is stabling under the _fonda_ for 500 pack-animals, for Lanjaron

in its "season" is an important place, frequented by invalids from far

and near. Its mineral-springs are reputed efficacious: but the drainage

arrangements are villainous in the extreme, and altogether it seemed a

village to be avoided. Sad traces of the cholera were everywhere

visible, many doors and lintels bearing the ominous sign: it was curious

that in so few cases had it been erased.

We left before daybreak, and a few leagues further on the ascent became

very steep and abrupt, the hill-crests whither we were bound within

view, but wreathed in mist. Only one traveller did we meet in the long

climb from Orjiva to Capileira, and he bringing two mule-loads of dead

and dying sheep, worried by wolves just outside Capileira the night

before. Expecting that the wolves would certainly return, we prepared to

wait up that night for them: but were dissuaded, the argument being

"that is exactly what they will expect! No, those wolves will probably

not come back this winter." But return they did, both that night and

several following. The night before we left Capileira on the return

journey (a fortnight later), they came in greater numbers than ever and

killed over twenty sheep.

Capileira is the highest hamlet in the sierra, and is celebrated for its

hams, which are cured in the snow. Here we put up for the night,

sleeping as best we could amidst fowls and fleas, after an amusing

evening spent around the fire, where one pot cooked for forty people

besides ourselves. The cold was intense, streams of fine snow whirling

in at pleasure through the crazy shutters: so we were glad to go to

bed--indeed I was chased thither by a hungry sow on the prowl, seeking

something to eat, apparently in my portmanteau.

Heavy snow-falls that night and all next day prevented our advance: but

at an early hour on the following morning we were under way--six of

us--on mules, though I would have preferred to walk, the snow being so

deep one could not see where the edges of the precipices were. No sooner

had I mounted than the mule fell down, while crossing a hill-torrent,

and I was glad to find the water no deeper. After climbing steadily

upwards all the morning, the last two hours on foot, the snow knee-deep,

we at length sighted the cairn on the height to which we were bound.

Before nightfall we had reached the point, but few of the mules

accomplished the last few hundred yards. After bravely trying again and

again, the poor beasts sank exhausted in the snow, and we had to carry

up the impedimenta ourselves in repeated journeys. The deep snow, the

tremendous ascent, and impossibility of seeing a foothold made this

porterage most laborious: but we had all safely stowed in our cave

before sundown.

The overhanging rock, which for the next ten or twelve days was to serve

as our abode, we found a mass of icicles. These we proceeded to clear

away, and then by a good fire to melt our ice-enamelled rock-ceiling,

fancying that the constant drip on our noses all night might be

unpleasant. The altitude of our ledge above sea-level was about 8,500

feet, and our plateau of rest--our home, so to speak--measured just

seven yards by two.

Early next morning we proceeded to erect snow-screens at favourable

passes, wherein to await the wild-goats as they moved up or down the

mountain-side at dawn and dusk respectively, their favourite food being

the rye-grass which the peasants from the villages below contrive to

grow in tiny patches--two or three square yards scattered here and there

amidst the crags. It is only by rare industry that even so paltry a crop

can be snatched at such altitudes, and during the short period when the

snow is absent from the southern aspects. At present it enveloped

everything--not a blade of vegetation, nor a mouthful for a wild-goat

could be seen.

Although in going to our _puestos_ during the day the snow was generally

soft--the sun being very hot--yet in returning after dark we found the

way most dangerous, traversing a sloping, slippery ice-surface like a

huge glacier, where a slip or false step would send one down half a mile

with nothing to clutch at or to save oneself. Such a slide meant death,

for it could only terminate in an awful precipice or in one of those

horrible holes with a raging torrent to receive one in its dark abyss,

and convey the fragments beneath the snow--where to appear next? Each

step had to be cut with a hatchet, or hollowed--the butt of a rifle is

not intended for such work, but has had to perform it.

Every day here we saw goats on or about the snow-fields and towering

rocks above our cave. They were of a light fawn colour, very shaggy in

appearance, some males carrying magnificent long horns. One old ram

seemed to be always on the watch, kneeling down on the very verge of a

crag 500 or 600 yards above us, and which commanded a view for

miles--_miles_, did we say? paltry words! From where that goat was, he

could survey half-a-dozen provinces.

These ibex were quite inaccessible, and though daily seen, nearly a week

had passed away ere a wild-goat gave us a chance. One night shortly

after quitting my post, little better than a human icicle, and not

without fear of the dangers of scrambling cave-wards, in absolute

darkness along the ice-slope, a little herd of goats passed--mere

shadows--within easy shot of where, five minutes before, I had been

lying in wait. On another morning at dawn the tracks of a big male

showed that he, too, must have passed at some hour of the night within

five-and-twenty yards of the snow-screen.

[Illustration]

But it was not till a whole week had elapsed that we had the ibex really

in our power. Just as day broke a herd of eight--two males and six

females--stood not forty yards from our cave-dwelling. The fact was

ascertained by one Esteban, a Spanish sportsman whom we had taken with

us. Silently he stole back into the cave, and without a word, or

disturbing the dreams of his still sleeping employers, picked up an

"express" and went forth. Then the loud double report at our very

doors--that is, had there been a door--aroused us, only to find ... the

spoor of that enormous ram, the spot where he had halted, listening,

close above the cave, and the splash of the lead on the rock

beyond--_eighteen inches_ too low! an impossible miss for any one used

to the "express." Oh, Esteban, Esteban! what were our feelings towards

you on that fateful morn!

Life in a mountain-cave high above the level of perpetual snow--six men

huddled together in the narrow space, two English and four

Spaniards--has its weird and picturesque, but it has also its harder

side. Yet those days and nights, passed amidst majestic scenes and

strange wild beasts, have left nothing but pleasant memories, nor have

their hardships deterred one of us from repeating the experiment.

Probably both these campaigns were too early in the season (March and

April).

The only birds seen in the high sierra were choughs and ravens:

ring-ouzels a little lower down. There were plenty of trout, though

small, in the hill-burns. On one occasion we witnessed an extraordinary

circular rainbow across a deep gorge, with our own figures perfectly

reflected in the centre on passing a given point.

The ice-going abilities of the mountaineers were something

marvellous--incredible save to an eye-witness. Across even a north

drift, hard and "slape" as steel, and hundreds of yards in extent, these

men would steer a sliding, slithering course at top speed, directed

towards some single projecting rock. To miss that refuge might mean

death: but they did not miss it, ever, in their perilous course, making

good a certain amount of forward movement. At that rock they would

settle in their minds the next point to be reached, quietly smoking a

cigarette meanwhile before making a fresh start. How such performances

diminish one's own self-esteem! How weak are our efforts! Even on the

softer southern drifts, what balancing, what scrambling and crawling on

hands and knees one finds necessary, and what a "cropper" one would have

come but for the friendly arm of Enrique, who, as he arrests one's

perilous slide, merely mutters "Ave Maria purissima!"

* * * * *

Now we have left the ice and snow and the ibex to wander in peace over

their lonely domains. To-night we have dined at a _table_: there is a

cheery fire in the rude little _posada_ and merry voices, contrasting

with the silence of our cave, where no one spoke above a whisper, and

where no fire was permissible save once a day to heat the _olla_. Now

all we need is a song from the Murillo-faced little girl who is fanning

the charcoal-embers. "Sing us a couplet, Dolores, to welcome us back

from the snows of Alpujarras!"

_Dolores_: With the greatest pleasure, _Caballero_, if José will play

the guitar. No one plays like José, but he is tired, having travelled

all day with his mules from Lanjaron.

_José_: No, señor, not tired, but I have no soul to-night to play. This

morning they asked me to bring medicine from the town for Carmen: but

when I reached the house she was dead. I find myself very sad.

_Dolores_: "Pero, si ya tiene su palma y su corona?" ...but as she

already has her palm and her crown?

_José_: That is true! Bring the guitar and I will see if it will quit me

of this _tristeza_!

Next morning the snow prevented our leaving: and the day after, while

riding away, we met some of the villagers carrying poor Carmen to the

burial-ground on the mountain-side. The body, plainly robed in white,

was borne on an open bier, the hands crossed and head supported on

pillows, thus allowing the long unfettered hair to hang down loose

below. It was an impressive and a picturesque scene; and as I rode on,

the rejoinder of Dolores came to my mind--"Ya tiene su palma y su

corona."

CHAPTER XIV.

TROUT AND TROUTING IN SPAIN.

A land without Trout labours, in our eyes, under grave physical

disadvantages; its currency is, metaphorically, below par, its stocks at

a discount. The absence of many modern luxuries in Spain--say, manhood

suffrage, school-boards, and the like--we can survive; the absence of

trout, never. Not even the presence on mountain, moor, or marsh, of such

noble denizens as Spain can boast--the ibex, bustard, and boar, the lynx

and lammergeyer--can wholly, from an angler's point of view, fill the

void, or atone for the absence of sparkling streams and that gamest of

fresh-water game, the trout. The reproach, however, does not apply; for,

to her many sporting treasures, Spain can claim, in addition, this gem

of the subaqueous world. No one, however, it should be added, who has

other lands open to him, should ever go to Spain expressly for

trout-fishing.

Subject to the provisoes that follow (fairly extensive ones, too), trout

may be said to exist sporadically all over the Iberian Peninsula; but,

in the south, they are limited to the alpine streams of the sierras, and

seldom descend below the 2,000 feet level. Troutlets abound in the

mountain-torrents of the loftiest southern sierras (Nevada, Morena,

Ronda, and all their infinite ramifications), the larger fish seeking

rather lower levels and deeper pools. Three-pounders grace the classic

streams of Genil and Darro, and deserve attention from angling visitors

to the famed Moorish fortress of Boabdil and his dark-eyed houris. The

Guadiarro, also, and some others of the Mediterranean rivers, afford

shelter, in their middle and upper waters, to _Salmo fario_.

In the sluggish, mud-charged rivers of the corn-plains, and of the

upland plateaux, the trout, of course, finds no place. The finned

inhabitants of these regions, so far as our limited knowledge goes, are

the shad (_sábalo_) and coarse fish, such as dace (_lisa_) and his

congeners, with monster eels, crayfish, and the like. But as the

rock-ramparts of the Castiles and Northern Estremadura are approached,

our speckled friend again appears. Beneath the towering sierras of

Gredos and Avila we have landed him while resting from the severer

labours of ibex-hunting on the heights above.

These upland streams of Castile run crystal-clear, with alternate pools

and rapids in charming sequence. Many closely resemble our moorland

burns of Northumbria--even the familiar sandpiper, the white-chested

dipper, and the carol of the sky-lark (a note unheard in Southern

Spain), are there to heighten the similitude; but here, heather and

bracken are replaced by _bresos_ and _piornales_--shrubs whose English

names (if they have any) we know not. The trout run smaller in inverse

ratio of the altitude; in a stream at 8,000 feet the best averaged four

to the pound; in another, barely below snow-level, six or eight would be

required to complete that weight--small enough, but welcome as a change,

both of sport and fare. Who, but an angler, though, can appreciate the

heaven-sent joys of casting one's lines on "fresh streams and waters

new"?

This watershed marks the southern limit at which (within our

observation) the art of fly-fishing is practised by Spanish anglers--of

their more usual modes of taking the trout, we treat anon. Fly-fishing,

did we say? Fishing with fly would be a more accurate definition; the

moment a trout seizes the rudely-tied feathers, he is jerked out,

regardless of size or sport--the tackle used, it goes without saying, is

of the strongest and coarsest. To play and land a trout _secundum artem_

was, we were assured, impossible, by reason of the _malésas_--weeds,

snags, and rocks, which stud the arcana of the depths. But it fell to

our lot to demonstrate to our worthy friends that this theory was

untenable. With a light twelve-foot bamboo, and on gut finer far than

ever entered a Spanish angler's dream (though it all comes from

Catalonia), we had the satisfaction of raising, playing, and landing

sundry creels-full of shapely fish that exceeded, both as to numbers and

weight, the best local performances in manifold proportion. Do not, kind

reader, attribute egotistic motives for this statement. No great measure

of skill was required to treble or quadruple the natives' takes; and any

angler will say at once that such was just the result that might have

been expected. While we write, comes a letter from that out-of-the-world

spot, asking for a supply of our English gut and flies.

[Illustration]

In Portugal also--save on the monotonous levels of the Alemtejo and

Algarve--the trout exists in nearly all suitable localities--that is,

they are confined to the streams of the hill-country of the north. Years

ago, on the virgin rivers of the Entre-Douro-e-Minho, our friend Mr. J.

L. Teage enjoyed good sport with trout and gillaroo. It was indeed, to

some extent, the success of his _mosca encantada_ that helped to arouse

the slumbering utilitarian greed of the simple Lusitanian peasant, who,

seeing, or thinking that he saw, an undreamed source of wealth in his

rivers, borrowed of his Basque and Galician neighbours their deadly

systems of poison and dynamite, and proceeded forthwith to kill the

goose that laid this golden egg. As a natural result, at the present day

many of the waters of Northern Portugal are all but depopulated--hardly

a sizeable fish can now be taken where four or five-pounders swam of

yore.

It is, however, the northern provinces of Spain, the Asturias and

Cantabrian highlands, and the rivers that run into Biscay, that form the

true home of Iberian _Salmonidæ_. Here, in a land of towering mountains,

pine-clad and mist-enshrouded, and of rushing, rapid streams, are found

both the salmon, the sea-trout, and the yellow trout.[39]

Of the Salmon (_Salmo salar_) in Spain, we have had no experience, and

will say nothing more than that the southernmost limit of its range

appears to be the river Minho, on the frontier of Portugal, and that the

resistless energy of British sportsmen has succeeded (despite the local

difficulties referred to later) in acquiring fishing rights of no small

excellence. Nor have we fished specially for the sea-trout, which are

killed with fly and other sporting lures, both in the upper streams and

in the brackish waters of the tideways, all along the Biscayan coast,

commencing to "run" in February. Some of their habits appear here to

differ from what we observe at home; but, without more precise

knowledge, we prefer to pass them by for the present.

No more lovely trouting waters can angling introspect conceive than some

of those in Northern Spain. Now surging through some tortuous gorge in

successive pools, dark, and foam-flecked, each of which look like

"holds" for monsters; now opening out on a hill-girt plateau, where the

current broadens into rippled shallows, with long-tailed runs and

hollowed banks, the Cantabrian rivers offer promises all too fair. For

the unfortunate trout has no fair play meted out to him in this hungry

land. No count is taken of his noble qualities, nor of his economic

necessities. Poor _Salmo fario_ is here simply a comestible, and nothing

more. In season and out, throughout the twelvemonth, he is

persecuted--done to death with nets, poison, and dynamite. We have

elsewhere remarked on the paradoxical character of the Spanish

_cazador_, and that of the _pescador_ is the same. Though observant of

his quarry, apt, intelligent, and highly skilled in the arts of sport,

yet he is not a sportsman in the truer sense of the term. His object is

utilitarian, not sentimental--he cultivates knowledge and the practices

of field-craft simply that he may fill the _puchero_.

A large proportion of the adult male population of each riverside hamlet

in Northern Spain are _pescadores_--professional fishermen: and all day

long one sees them grovelling among the stones of the river-bed fixing

those hateful funnel-nets that, at night, entrap the luckless trout as

they wander over the shallows. But if they confined their operations to

these, and to the infinite variety of nets of other shapes and forms

that festoon the village street, things might not be so bad, nor the

case of the trout so hopeless and desperate. They have far more deadly

devices for massacre by wholesale. Into the throat of some lovely stream

is tipped a barrow-load of quicklime: down goes the poisonous dose,

dealing out death and destruction to every fish, great or small, in that

stream: and, if that is not enough, or if the pool is long and sullen,

he proceeds to blow up its uttermost depths with dynamite. And in the

hot summer months, when the streams, at lowest summer-level, run almost

dry, the heaviest trout are decimated by "tickling."

These methods prevail in every part of Spain and Portugal where trout or

other edible fish exist. What chance have they to live?

There are, moreover, difficulties, either of law or of custom, that, in

some parts of Spain, render the preservation of rivers troublesome, if

not impossible. Hence the poor Spanish Salmonidæ can hardly hope to

receive that ægis of kindly protection that has been so advantageously

(for them, and others) extended to their British and Scandinavian

congeners.

Another drawback--which, though common to most lands, is specially

pronounced in metalliferous Spain--lies in the noxious effusions from

mines, which are freely discharged, for private profit, into public

waters. This evil was forcibly brought home by our first day's

experience in Cantabria. Hour after hour we had plied most lovely water

without success--fly, worm, and phantom alike failed to elicit a single

response. On returning with empty creel to the _posada_, to us our host,

"_Hombre_, have you been fishing the Tesarco? _Que disparate!_ there is

a copper-mine two leagues further up: there have been no fish in that

river for years." Considering that we had employed a local guide,

furnished by the said host, the occasion appeared to justify a protest

of not unmeasured wrath. But there is no use losing one's temper in

Spain: no quality there so valuable as patience: and the reward of a

modicum of reasoned restraint was that the rough, but kind-hearted

Asturian insisted next morning on accompanying us himself to another

river, seven miles away, where we enjoyed, for Spain, excellent sport.

Under the adverse conditions above outlined, it would be irrational to

look for any very great measure of success in Spanish trouting--though,

were it possible (which it is not) to secure fair play for the

Salmonidæ, there is no physical or other reason why the Basque and

Biscayan provinces might not rival either Scotch or Scandinavian waters.

The following brief records of a few experiences in Northern Spain will

serve to illustrate what may be expected, in a sporting sense, of the

Cantabrian trout.

SANTANDÉR (PROVINCIA).

The Province of Santandér, hardly less wild and mountainous than the

Asturias, presents somewhat similar conditions of water, fish, and

sport. The Cantabrian range, extending from Pyrenees to Atlantic, the

common southern boundary of all the Biscayan provinces, attains in

Santandér some of its greatest elevations, including the celebrated

Picos de Europa (9,000 feet), the home of the Spanish bear and chamois.

The trend of the land dips gradually from these inland heights towards

the sea: yet even on the coast the scenery is savage and grand, some of

the altitudes being very great. The view looking across the magnificent

harbour of Santandér recalls in the "Sunny South" the scenery of Arctic

Norway, with all the fantastic tracery of snow-mountains and jagged

peaks vividly reflected in the unruffled breadths of the fjord.

The rivers, of course, reflect the characteristics of the land. Born of

the mountain and the snow-field, they come leaping and surging seawards,

dancing to their own wild music, as they crush through narrow gorges, by

crag and hanging wood, hurrying ever northward towards the Biscayan sea.

The angler's path along their banks is no made road: often for miles,

ay, leagues, he may be constrained to follow the goatherds' upland

path--a _camino de perdices_ in native phrase--and only able to gaze

down, like Tantalus, on tempting streams, perhaps close beneath, yet far

beyond his reach.

Here, as elsewhere, success, we found, was not to be had for the wooing,

nor at the first time of asking. Rivers that offered fair

promise--beautiful waters, such as Besaya and Saja, embedded amidst ilex

and chestnut, where moss-grown rocks impended darkly pools, whereon

foam-flakes slowly revolved, or the more rapid streams of Reinosa, full

of cataracts and tearing "races" that eat away their steep

gravel-banks--all these _may_ prove blank, or a long day's work be only

rewarded by a few insignificant troutlets or par.

While fishing in the Reinosa district, we were told by our host that

there lived some few leagues away _un Inglés muy aficionado_--a fishing

enthusiast. Thither we moved our quarters: our new-made friend was one

of those Anglo-Saxon Crusoes whom one meets with, self-buried, for one

reason or another, in the recesses of wild lands, where sport or

solitude may be enjoyed in degrees not possible at home. Retired from a

public service through an infirmity begotten by the incidence of his

duties, he was spending the prime of life in this remote spot, satisfied

with an environment of Nature's purest scenes and with a modicum of

sport to reconcile him to exile. A type of the British sportsman abroad

was X., keen almost to a fault, little apt to measure success solely by

results, a hard day's work was not deemed ill-rewarded by a brace or two

of red-legs, or half a dozen quail, while for the chance of a boar he

would walk well-nigh half the night, to reach by dawn the point where

the retreat of some old tusker, which was ravaging the peasants' crops,

might perchance be cut off.

There were six or eight miles to walk on the morrow ere a line was

wetted--at first along a highway, whence X. plunged _in medias res_,

that is into a rough strath, horrid with shifting shingle and thorny

scrub, where progress was painful enough: but our companion never

slacked speed, and when he continued his wild career, unchecked, through

a brawling torrent full of boulders and well-nigh waist-deep, with a

current like a mill-race, doubts of his sanity began to arise: or was he

only testing us? Soon afterwards, providentially, we reached the main

stream: fair trouting water, with rather too much current, the runs

being almost continuous, and leaving scant space of "slack." Here we set

up our rods: the first seething pool yielded a brace, besides false

rises, and in half an hoar we had "creeled" several and began to hope

for better things. But it was not to be.

The trout here were white, or silvery in colour, more like

salmon-smolts--none of the deep greens, violets and gold of our home

fish--and rose extremely shy, coming so short that hardly one in three

gave a chance of getting fast. It was not that they rolled over the

flies, or merely "flicked" at them--they simply came so short that,

unless self-hooked, they were gone almost ere they had come. A dozen

trout was the result of this day, yet our companion told us he had not,

during two years, made a better basket. Oh, tantalizing streams and

provoking troutlets of Biscaya!

Pleasant days, nevertheless, were those spent by this wild riverside.

The love of sport is strong in our breasts, but it is not the sole, or

an all-potent factor therein. Other things are strong to charm, and here

the scenery and accompaniments lacked nothing of beauty and

interest--the grand hills, not high but severe in jagged skylines and

escarpments that shone like marble in the sun. The air resounded with

the music of leaping waters, with the merry carol of Sandpiper and

gentler warble of Whinchat: and further off the soaring flight of

Buzzard and Raven lent life to the silent hills.[40] From rock-crannies,

splashed with the spray of trickling rivulets from above, peeped

bouquets of gentian and maiden-hair: the stony "haughs" glowed with

bloom of purple iris and asphodel, anemones and wild geraniums, orchids,

heaths, ferns, and wild-flowers of a hundred kinds unknown to us.

The weather of the Cantabrian spring-time is strangely variable: every

day we had spells of sunshine and shower, wind and calm, fog and fair

alternately, often culminating in a sudden clap of thunder that rolled

majestically along the deep ravines. Then, for an hour, came down the

rain in torrents, and we sought the shelter of some village _venta_

where, for a _peseta_, we fared sumptuously on good white bread and the

delicious cream-like cheese known as _queso de Burgos_, washed down with

the rough red wine of Rioja, cheaper than "smallest beer," and most

refreshing.

In every hamlet hung fishing-nets: every day we saw the "fishermen"

fixing them, and heard of two-pounders. Yet to us, striving with all the

skill we possess, appeared none of these leviathans. Nothing we could do

availed to cajole them--that is, assuming their existence. A basket of

one to two dozen trout daily, including sundry half-pounders, appeared

to be the measure of the river's capacity, or of our skill.

Our best basket in this Province of Santandér was twenty-eight trout,

weighing eight and a half pounds, and the best fish a fine trout of just

over the pound. Him we killed in a deep pool so embedded amidst crags

and so difficult of access, that it may be doubted whether feathered fly

had ever before flown over its virgin depths. Our friend rose boldly to

a small "red palmer": and within a few minutes two more, of hardly

inferior weight, had joined him in the basket.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XV.

TROUTING IN THE ASTURIAS AND IN LEON.

The wide pastoral province of Leon, with its unexplored wilds of the

Vierzo and the Maragateria, and many another savage region bordering on

the southern slopes of the Galician and Cantabrian highlands, is

practically a _terra incognita_ to British sportsman and naturalist.

Well would Leon repay either of these for the enterprise expended on its

exploration. Mountain and plain afford shelter for game--large and

small--of all the kinds native to Spain; while the rivers flowing

southwards from the Asturian ranges probably afford as good

trout-fishing as any in the Peninsula.

Our own experiences in Leon were limited, as regards its trouting

capacities, to a mere flying visit, when we alighted one morning in

mid-May, at a wayside station in North Leon, tempted to break a

monotonous journey by the trout-like appearance of a stream that, for

some distance, had run more or less parallel with the railway.

The country immediately adjacent was not attractive; flat, tawny, and

arid, with few trees and very partial cultivation. On either bank, at a

mile or two's distance, rose ranges of low broken hills, gradually

increasing in height as they closed in upon the river. Here and there

stood scattered hamlets, all built of the yellowish sun-baked brick

characteristic of Leon; the houses huddled together, and usually

enclosed by the remnants of a former wall or fortification.

It was nearly noon ere we reached the waterside, at the head of a long

stretch of deep, still water, fringed on the opposite shore with canes

and bulrushes, and well rippled by a strong breeze. The sun-glare was

intense; and, though the wind enabled us to command the whole water, an

hour's fishing (with fly) only resulted in the capture of sundry large

silvery coarse fish, resembling dace, and weighing from half a pound to

a pound and a quarter, and a few small fry--we imagine, bleak. We

therefore decided to walk up-stream three or four miles, to the point

where its course joined one of the hill-ranges just mentioned. Here, in

many places, abrupt limestone crags formed the farther shore; beneath,

the stream ran deep, bright, and sparkling, shallowing away to the

shelving gravel on our shore, and at each bend forming a pretty pool.

For a long time this likely water produced actually nothing, and we

began to fear that our venture in stopping at this outlandish spot was a

failure. But as the shadows lengthened and the sun left the water, there

came a change. The long-expected and welcome sensation of a determined

"rise" was followed by another and another in quick succession; and in

the last hour of the day we landed nineteen trout, weighing between

seven and eight pounds, of which aggregate the three largest accounted

for one-third.

Fully half the trout killed on this and succeeding days rose to a small

orange hackle; a bracken-clock, or "coch-y-bondu," as we believe is the

proper name, being the next favourite. Winged flies should be small, and

of bright colours, and, in the clear waters of Spain, only the finest

gut should be used.

Further west, in the Astorga and Ponferrada districts, are probably the

best streams of Leon; but these we have not had time to visit.

THE ASTURIAS.--This province is to Spain what the Scotch Highlands are

to England--a

Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,

Land of the mountain and the flood.

From the north, the Asturias may be reached by sea; but on the south the

only pass through the continuous mountain-ranges which cut off this

rugged province from Leon and transmontane Spain, is by the _puertos_

of Vegarada and Piedrafita, which lead into the upland valleys of the

Pajáres mountains, one of the chief strongholds of the Spanish bear, and

where boar, chamois, and other game are also found.

The extremely abrupt and rugged nature of the river-valleys is, in some

sense, a serious drawback to the angler. Many a lovely pool or stretch

of perfect trouting-water are absolutely inaccessible--cut off for ever

in the depths of some precipitous defile. Broken boulders often impend

the river's course for miles, and hopelessly obstruct descent. In other

places the water-side can at length be reached after perilous scrambles

along rock-ledges, threading the rod through a maze of birch and alder

branches. And one picks a precarious path downwards with the knowledge

that, even when reached, the range of fishable water will be limited,

and the return journey almost worse than the descent.

These hardly-gained pools are, however, worth the trouble of trying.

For, in proportion to their difficulty of access, so are they neglected

by the native _pescador_, with all his poaching paraphernalia and

hateful engines of destruction.

Our first essay proved blank; the season (May) was, perhaps, too early,

and only a few silvery troutlets rewarded a long day's work. This was a

small stream, overhung with magnificent chestnuts; but a neighbouring

and larger river afforded, for Spain, fair sport. The first series of

pools yielded a dozen trout, averaging half a pound. Then came the usual

scramble to reach the next fishable bit. While climbing out, over a

chaos of tumbled boulders, we almost stepped on a big Marten (_Mustela

martes_, Linn.), which bounded from under foot, up the rocks; then

turned, and stood chattering savagely at the intruder, her yellow chest

not twenty yards away. Probably she had her brood hidden in some

crevice, but we could see nothing of them.

Thus, half fishing, half struggling with geological obstructions, we had

accumulated a basket of thirty odd trout, when we observed in the glen

below a stretch of lovely water. There were four pools, each debouching

into the next in a strong stream that ruffled half the pool below. But

the river ran in a deep ravine, the descent was worse than ever, and for

some time it was doubtful if we should ever stand on that virgin shore.

We succeeded, however; and presently, across the throat of the upper

"run," extended the cast of stone-fly, black gnat, and orange-red

spider--possibly the first that ever swept the stream. In a moment we

were fast in a trout of the first rank, which had seized the upper fly.

His defence was sullen and strong, slowly moving round the pool; then he

twice threw himself a clear yard out of water--a grand silver-clad

trout. The end came in due course, but unhastened, and having no net, no

risks were run till he rolled over on his glittering side, and could

safely be towed in shore, and "docked" in a shallow creek. This trout

(one of our best in Spain) was a thick and shapely fish of rather under

three pounds, pale in colour, almost silvery, with delicate orange

blush, which hardly extended to the fins. He was fairly crammed with

creeper, or larvæ of stone-fly (in Spanish, _coco_), yet had fallen a

victim to the similitude of the perfect insect--the only large fish, by

the way, killed on this fly, the majority preferring the small

orange-hackle.

[Illustration: "VANQUISHED."]

In the same pool we killed two more--a half-pounder, with a smaller fish

on the same cast; while the three lower pools yielded nine trout, three

averaging a pound apiece, two of three-quarters, and four of minor

dimensions--making a total for the day of forty-four trout.

This last short hour's work had realized some ten pounds' weight of

fish--the best sport with the trout-rod the writer ever enjoyed in

Spain.

THE GAME-BIRDS OF THE ASTURIAS.--It may be appropriate, before leaving

this northern province, to add a few lines on its game-birds, which

differ greatly from those of the south of Spain.

First comes the Capercaillie, which is spread along the whole Cantabrian

range, though in no great numbers, and rarely seen in spring, when they

lie extremely close in the densest thickets of the forests. We only

raised three or four during many long rambles through the Asturian

forests in search of Bruin. The Asturian name is "el Faisan."

Ptarmigan are found in the Pyrenees, but do not seem to extend further

west than the province of Navarre. Manuel de la Torre assured us that

there was, in the Asturias, a _Perdiz grisa_ which lived exclusively in

the woods, a tame bird, lying very close, and in autumn flying in bands.

Could this be the Hazel-grouse? According to Arévalo, that species is

only found in the Pyrenees.

Our familiar Grey Partridge (a bird entirely unknown in the south) we

also met with both in the Pyrenees and the Asturias, where it is not

uncommon; but is said not to pass southward of the great cordillera of

Leon. In this country, the Grey Partridge is confined to the higher

regions of the sierras, only coming down with the snow to the _faldas_,

or foothills, in winter, and is _never_ found on the plains as at home.

One other bird peculiar to this region, though not game, deserves a

remark: the Great Black Woodpecker (_Picus martius_), which is found

distributed along all the northern forests. It is, however, very

scarce--though least so in the Peñas de Europa.

CHAPTER XVI.

EXPERIENCES WITH EAGLES.

I.--FOREST AND PLAIN.

With her vast expanses of sierra and lonely scrub-clad wastes, scarcely

inhabited save by ill-tended herds of cattle or goats, but abounding in

wild-life--furred, feathered, and scaled--Spain affords conditions

peculiarly favourable to raptorial animals. Of the eagle-tribe some

eight or nine species are recognized as belonging to the Spanish

avi-fauna--some peculiar to the mountain-region, others to the steppe

and prairie, as we now proceed to explain. We have ourselves shot all

the different kinds of eagle, save two, which are comparatively scarce

and irregular stragglers to the Peninsula--namely, _Haliæetus albicilla_

and _Aq. nævia_.

The first of the tribe to attract our attention was the Spanish Imperial

Eagle (_Aquila adalberti_ of R. Brehm), one of the handsomest of

European species, a few pairs of which still inhabit most of the wilder

provinces of Central and Southern Spain, though their numbers in

Andalucia have been grievously reduced since we first met with them in

1872. To shoot this bird was long an ambition of the writer, the

attainment of which cost many a long week of hard work, hard fare, and

more than one bitter disappointment. All attempts in those earlier days

to approach the Imperial Eagle on the open plains which form its

favourite home proved futile; though on many occasions we fell in with

the bird conspicuously perched, according to its habit during the

mid-day heats, on some dead tree or the top of a pine. In later years we

have succeeded in this feat, but at that time the most carefully

executed "stalk" invariably failed for one reason or another; nor could

the eagle be beguiled to come to a bait. Nothing remained but to take

what is perhaps an unfair advantage. On April 16th we found a nest, a

broad platform of branches built on the very summit of a towering

_alcornoque_. Beneath this, in a hut of cistus-twigs, a prey to myriad

mosquitoes, I awaited the eagle's return. Slowly passed some hours of

torture before she re-appeared, took one wide circuit around, and

descended with a rush like a whirlwind upon her eyry, completely

disappearing from view within its ample circumference. This event I had

not foreseen, and hoped to kill the eagle in the act of alighting. Now

it only remained to put her off. Gently I removed my boots, crept from

the hut, and walked round the tree--a mountain of green foliage. From no

other point was the great nest visible; so I braced up my nerves and

shouted. There followed a slight rustling; then the huge wings extended,

and for a single instant I saw, through intervening foliage, the whole

of the coveted symmetrical form, ere she wheeled back across the tree. A

No. 1 cartridge crashed through the branches; a shower of leaves and

black feathers floated in the air--instinctively I felt the blow must be

mortal, though no vital spot had been presented. Intense was my joy when

next she appeared, to see the eagle slanting downwards towards the

earth. There she recovered an even keel; the second barrel, too careless

perhaps, had no effect, and the great bird slowly flap--flapped away.

Each moment I watched for her collapse, but she still held on, on,

across the open, and behind some distant trees was lost to view. Then

the iron entered my soul, nor was it any solace to hear, some time

afterwards, that that very afternoon my eagle had been found by a couple

of _carabineros_; not till a fortnight later was the useless corpse

recovered.

[Illustration: SPANISH IMPERIAL EAGLE.]

It was the 6th of May before we found another nest in a distant

_dehesa_--again built on an _alcornoque_ (cork-oak), the highest of a

clump bordering a small swamp. This eagle sat close, not moving till I

stood ready beneath. Then she rose to her feet and I shot as she stood

on the nest. She sprang buoyantly upwards, ignoring a second charge

placed under the wing as she wheeled back: then soared blindly over

Felipe, receiving two more cartridges, and after flying some half a mile

slowly settled down to earth in a series of descending circles. Sending

Felipe to recover her, I awaited the return of the male; but the sun was

low on the horizon ere my eyes were gladdened by the sight of his

majestic flight, directly approaching, and with a rabbit hanging from

his claws. With quick "yapping" bark, he perched on an outer branch, and

next moment fell, wing-broken, to the ground.

A magnificent pair they were: their sable-black plumage glossy with

purplish iridescent sheen and with snow-white shoulders. On the occiput

a patch of pale gold, the crown being black. The feet and cere of this

species are pale lemon-yellow; the irides golden, finely reticulated

with hazel.

This eyry contained two eaglets, clad in white down. We have since had

many opportunities of observing the breeding habits of this species on

the wooded plains of Andalucia and Estremadura. The eggs, usually three

in number, are mostly white, more or less splashed or spotted with faint

evanescent reddish or brown shades, and are laid about the middle of

March. The nests of the Imperial Eagle are about four feet across, and

invariably placed on the extreme summit of a tall tree--cork-oak or

pine--all projecting twigs being broken off so as to offer no

obstruction to the sitting bird's view. The nests are flat, lined with

fresh twigs and green pine-needles, and all around and beneath lie

strewn the skulls of hares and rabbits--a perfect Golgotha. We have also

seen the remains of Partridge, Stone-Curlew, Mallard, and wildfowl, but

never those of reptiles. These large nests are most difficult to get

into; their position affording no hand-hold above, and from the extent

to which they overhang, access can only be obtained by a manoeuvre

analogous to scaling the futtock-shrouds of an old line-of-battle ship.

The Imperial Eagle is exclusively confined to the _plains_--we have

never seen it in the mountains: its prey consists almost entirely of

rabbits and partridge: it is also said to kill bustards, but this we

think improbable, though the bird, no doubt, is powerful enough. Its

hunting-grounds are the arid, barren _dehesas_ and cistus-wastes--it is

not seen on the cornlands frequented by bustard. The adults are

recognizable at a long distance by their black plumage and snow-white

epaulets--majestic birds of massive, powerful appearance. One also sees

on the plains other large and powerful eagles of a rich tawny-chestnut

colour--very handsome objects as they sit in the sunshine on some lofty

pine.

What all these large tawny eagles are is not quite clear; or rather,

their precise specific status is not yet settled. Several experienced

ornithologists scattered throughout the world--Hume, Brooks and Anderson

in India, Cullen in Turkey, Saunders, Irby and Lord Lilford in

Spain--have studied these birds, but hitherto the investigations of

these accomplished naturalists have resulted in qualified, and sometimes

clashing opinions. Extreme difficulties beset the study of the

eagle-tribe, for the living subjects refuse to be studied, and resent

one's most remote propinquity. To go out eagle-shooting is to court

failure. Then, owing to their prolonged adolescence and slow changes of

plumage, a single eagle may pass through several distinct phases, each

more pronounced than those which divide species from species: added to

which is the further fact that while the genus contains several

well-defined types, yet its minor forms intergrade with perplexing

persistency. Without venturing on any dogmatic opinions, we will relate,

as a small contribution towards their natural history, such facts as

have come under our notice during many years' observation of the Spanish

eagles.

To clear the ground, we must first explain that the young of the

Imperial Eagle are, in their first plumage, of a uniform, rich tawny

chestnut, or _café-au-lait_ colour. We have shot beautiful examples in

this stage in June and July, when, during the intense mid-day heat, the

young eagles are wont to seek the shade of the tree whereon they were

hatched. This plumage continues during two or three years--or more: but

the original brightness and depth of hue is rapidly lost with age and

exposure to the southern sun. In a few months, these young eagles have

faded to an almost colourless, "washed-out" shade that appears almost

white at a distance.[41]

Their next stage is to acquire the dark plumage of maturity--a

metamorphosis which probably extends over several years. The black

feathers growing gradually and irregularly among the light ones, give

the bird, during this period, a peculiar piebald or spotted

appearance--(_see_ photo below). It is also worth adding, as a curious

fact, that many of the feathers of the wing-coverts, scapulars, &c.,

show _light on one side_ of the shaft, and _dark on the other_. During

all this protracted adolescence, it has usually been considered that

these eagles did not breed.

[Illustration: IMPERIAL EAGLE. (SPOTTED STAGE.)]

During the winter months in Andalucia one sees many of these

tawny-coloured eagles, the majority pale in hue--"washed-out" as Griffon

Vultures--(undoubtedly young Imperials)--but there are others, less

numerous, of a rich bright chestnut, and some of these, we think, may

belong to a different species.

In April, 1883, the writer found a nest of one of these large tawny

eagles in the distant Corral de la Cita. It was placed on the summit of

a stone-pine, almost covering the broad, bushy top, and we had an

excellent view of the old bird, as she rose from the nest about 100

yards away:--_de las coloradas_, == "one of the tawny kind!" as my

companion remarked. The place was remote, and night too near to allow of

our then awaiting her return (though we _should_ have done so at any

cost), so, after taking the two eggs (large dusky white, quite

spotless), substituting for them a couple of hard-boiled hen's eggs, and

setting a circular steel-trap in the nest, we left it. On returning next

morning there was no sign of the eagle at the nest. After walking all

round, shouting out, and going up an adjacent sand-ridge which all but

overlooked it, we were satisfied she was not there, especially as the

night before she had risen rather wild. Accordingly we prepared to

ascend; but whilst throwing the rope over the lowest branches, a great

shadow suddenly glided across the sand beside me, and on looking up,

there was the great chestnut-coloured eagle slowly flapping from her

nest within fifteen or twenty yards overhead. Before I could drop the

rope and run to my gun, the chance was gone; unluckily, however, the

shot took some effect, and though it failed to stop the eagle, she went

away badly struck, with one leg hanging down, and never returned. Thus,

by bad luck, an opportunity of settling a doubtful point was thrown

away.

[Illustration: TAWNY EAGLE.]

In June of the same year (1883), we obtained a tawny eagle, which we

then imagined would be a young Imperial of the year, and being only

winged, the bird was placed in the garden at Jerez, where it lived till

the autumn of 1885. It was then (at any rate) two and a half years old,

and possibly much older, yet it had never changed colour at all. The

whole plumage was rich tawny chestnut, rather lighter beneath, and the

new autumn feathers, which were growing at the time of the bird's death,

were also coming bright chestnut, and without a sign of black. This

eagle, which we now have set-up, has also, to our eye, quite a different

physical type to _A. adalberti_, old or young, being heavier and more

massive in build, beak, and claws--indeed, almost vulturine (_see_ photo

above). The middle toe appears to have four scutellæ, against six (one

rudimentary) in _A. adalberti_; tail above uniform dark brown. In

captivity it was much noisier, and more _nonchalant_, than the Imperial.

As already mentioned, we have observed these rich-coloured tawny eagles

on many occasions during the winter months. The forest-guards

distinguish them from the young Imperial Eagles, saying they were most

numerous in winter. Casual observation is not, of course, of much value

on fine points, and we give their opinion for what it may be worth. The

late Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria also appears to have found a tawny

eagle nesting in Andalucia ("Sport and Ornithology," p. 491), but did

not secure the birds.

It seems probable that a large tawny-coloured eagle--whether the African

_A. rapax_, or otherwise--_does_ breed in Southern Spain, though

sporadically both as to time and place, the wooded districts around

Córdova being the most likely locality.

* * * * *

So far, with slight modifications, we have left this chapter as written

some little time ago; but, since then, we have had further

eagle-experiences (in the spring of 1891), which throw some new light on

the vexed questions referred to. For we have now placed beyond doubt the

fact that the Spanish Imperial Eagle _does_ breed in--what is considered

to be--its "immature" dress; but which would probably be more correctly

expressed by saying that individuals of this species never develope that

black-and-white plumage which has hitherto been regarded as the

invariable adult state.

On February 26th we heard of an eagle's nest at a spot called the

Algaida del Gato, and were assured that, while the female-owner was

black--_de las negras_--her male partner was _pardo_, _i.e._, tawny. The

date, it may be noted, is just a month earlier than we had imagined

these birds usually breed; but on the 28th February this nest certainly

contained two white eggs; and, as certainly, the male eagle was _tawny_:

his partner an ordinary black-plumaged adult. The latter we could have

killed half a dozen times; but the male, realizing, it may be, the

interesting problem which centred itself on his person, gave us no small

trouble ere at last he fell to a long and lucky shot on the wing. His

skin now lies before us--pale tawny chestnut in ground colour, sprinkled

with darker feathers all over, and with _white shoulders_.

A few days afterwards (March 4th), a second pair were discovered

breeding on a big stone-pine in a different district. In this case the

_female_ was tawny, the male black. We watched the pair, with the glass,

at moderate range, for half an hour, and Manuel de la Torre afterwards

told us they had passed over his head within twenty yards, leaving no

doubt as to their respective colours. There was thus no necessity to

shoot them. As it is we fear we may be blamed, for to exterminate a

species in order to clear up some obscure fact in its biology is to

commit a crime under the guise of science; but we have not been guilty

in this or any other instance of needless slaughter; and, in Spain, be

it added, eagles are "vermin" upon whose heads a price is set. The few

shot by us are now valuable and cherished specimens; otherwise they

might, and probably would have, been uselessly destroyed, the beautiful

birds left to rot where they fell.

In April we saw a third example in the hands of a naturalist at

Malaga--a tawny female (without sign of white on shoulders), which we

were told (and do not doubt) was shot from her nest in that province the

preceding week.

The veteran Manuel de la Torre, a classic name in Spanish ornithology,

and one of the keenest and most observant men we ever met, who has spent

the greater part of his seventy years in the destruction of eagles,

foxes, wolves, and other _animales dañinos_--noxious beasts--laughed at

our enthusiasm over this "discovery," saying that he had known of the

fact all his life, and had shot "tawny" Imperials from their nests

before we were born! He asserted that these eagles do not ever,

necessarily, attain the black state; they may live 100 years and yet

not advance beyond the tawny, or "piebald" stages. Good luck and long

life to this dear old man, whose cheery face and voice and ready guitar

have been the life and soul of our camp on some wild nights in the

sierra!

[Illustration: SPANISH IMPERIAL EAGLE. (Adult Male, shot May 6th,

1883.)]

This discovery leaves the position thus:--The Spanish Imperial Eagle

_does_ breed indiscriminately, whether in the typical adult livery of

black and white, or in any of the various stages of mottled and piebald.

But we are still entitled to the opinion, hereinbefore expressed, that

there _also_ breeds--though rarely--in Spain a true _tawny_ eagle--_Aq.

rapax_, or otherwise. The grounds for this opinion are that the bird we

consider to be the Tawny Eagle is of different type and build, besides

being of a darker and richer colour--always uniform, whereas the

Imperial Eagles breeding in the pale plumage are invariably spotted, or

"marbled."

In leaving the Imperial Eagle we annex weights and dimensions of five

examples killed by us:--

Weight. Expanse. Length.

Male, adult (tawny) 8-3/4 lbs. 75-1/2 in. 30 in.

" " (black) 8-1/2 " 74-3/4 " 29-1/2 "

Female " " 9-3/4 " 80-1/2 " 34-3/4 "

" " " 10-1/4 " 82 " 36 "

" " " 10-1/4 " 82-1/4 " 36 "

Of the Booted Eagle (_Aquila pennata_) and the Serpent-Eagle (_Circäetus

gallicus_), both of which are more or less numerous spring-migrants to

Spain, we have treated elsewhere, and need only add that all our

specimens of the Booted Eagle (both sexes) are of the _pale_ variety

with shaded brown back, a broad light bar across either wing, and white,

streaked breast.

The Spotted Eagle (_Aquila nævia_) we have never personally met with:

though Arévalo (_Aves de España_, p. 58) describes it as not uncommon,

nesting in crevices of rocks among the wooded mountains, and frequenting

the rice-swamps of Valencia.

The White-tailed Sea-Eagle (_Haliæetus albicilla_) according to Spanish

authorities, is also found on passage and in winter. Manuel de la Torre

gave us its name as "_Aguila leona_," but we have never seen it in Spain

at any season.

On January 4th, 1888, we made the acquaintance of another fine species,

one of the largest of the feathered race, under the following

circumstances:--We were partridge-shooting, and before our advancing

line observed soaring over the plain a pair of enormous birds, which we

took for the largest Imperial Eagles we had ever seen. B. had always

held that those I had previously shot here (as just related) were of

small size, and that there existed, on the Andalucian _rega_, eagles of

twice their dimensions. Here at last we were in presence of a pair of

these stupendous eagles, and my anxiety to take the offensive--however

remote or impossible its chance of success--knew no bounds. The pursuit

of partridge, quail and hare--even the approaching _avero_--faded into

insignificance, and these huge birds monopolized all attention.

Presently one--the larger--passed outside the line, and after almost

interminable aërial sweeps settled slowly down to the summit of a small

wild-olive. At once we called up one of our wild-fowlers, who, with his

trained _cabresto_ pony, was close at hand. The pony was divested of

saddle and bridle, and with only a halter and a cord to his near

fore-knee--preparations which told him distinctly enough the nature of

the business in hand--was ready for action. Away we went, Vasquez

crouching behind the shoulder, myself behind the quarter, and holding

with my right hand by his tail. By this device we arrived, unnoticed, to

a range of forty yards--nearer we could not get by reason of a marshy

creek with steep, slimy banks. I therefore at once despatched the charge

of treble A, right for the monster's head. The effect was

unmistakable--he rolled over to the shot, and fell to earth. But those

huge wings never ceased to work, and a second dose of slugs (on the

ground) had no visible effect. From mere spasmodic flapping the great

bird gradually recovered control, and a few seconds later was distinctly

flying--very low, but still clearly on the wing and departing. For

nearly a mile he flapped along, never a yard above the scrub--then

settled, on the very edge of the water. We followed, and when I next

raised my eyes over the pony's quarter, there, within six yards,

stretched out flat on the bare mud, lay our victim. His head lay

prostrate, but his eye still brightly watched us. Hard and impervious to

shot as I well knew these great raptores to be, I was hardly prepared to

see him rise again, and could not have believed what followed. Not only

did he rise on wing, but received two more charges of treble

A--mould-shot as big as peas--at a range of under twenty yards, without

wincing, and after that, flew full 200 yards before finally collapsing:

then at last he fell, stone-dead.

[Illustration: BLACK VULTURE. (Adult Male, shot January 4th, 1888.)]

Our trophy was not an eagle after all! but one of those giant birds, the

Black Vulture (_Vultur monachus_), measuring a trifle under ten feet in

expanse of wing, and scaling roughly between two and three stones. I

need hardly add that I had at once recognized the species on rising to

fire the first time; and though it was somewhat of a disappointment, it

at least settled the question respecting these fabulously large eagles.

This bird proved a magnificent specimen, a male, 9 feet 9 inches across

the wings: the irides were dark, legs and feet whitish, claws black: the

cere and bare skin in front of neck bluish colour, tail pointed.[42] The

whole plumage was deep black-brown, the head covered with short downy

feathers, and the bird had no offensive smell like the common vultures.

This species is, indeed, of far nobler aspect than the Griffon, showing

in life none of the repulsive bare neck of that bird, the neck being

entirely hidden in the ruff of long lanceolate plumes which surround it,

and on the wing it has a majestic appearance.

[Illustration: BLACK VULTURE. "GETTING UNDER WEIGH."]

A few days afterwards we had a similar experience with another, which we

stalked, sitting amongst some rough hummocky ridges: it seems all but

impossible to kill these huge raptores outright. Their hard muscular

frames and sinews, tough as steel-wire, appear impervious to shot, and

unless a pellet chances to take the wing-bone, they will go on, though

struck in a dozen places. One realizes this on attempting to skin one of

the larger eagles--an operation not unlike trying to dissect a piano.

The Black Vulture we have never found actually breeding in Andalucia,

though it does do so: and we have observed single pairs, associated with

Griffons, in the sierras in May and July. Its chief nesting stronghold

is in the Castiles, where, in the Sierra de Gredos, we found an eyry

with young in May. This nest was on a pine. In the south the Black

Vulture is chiefly a winter bird.

The curious diversity of character displayed by the various raptores

when captured, deserves a word of notice. At the end of May, after six

or eight weeks' eagle-hunting, we had about a dozen large birds of prey

which were kept in a disused room. There was a mighty commotion when any

one entered--a couple of Serpent-Eagles ceaselessly flapped and

scuffled, while Booted Eagles showed fight, and Marsh-Harriers, backing

into convenient corners, stood facing one with outstretched wings, like

snarling cats all teeth and claws, and shrieking defiance in wailing

tones. The Kites, on the contrary, might all have been dead, so limp and

lifeless they lay, flat on the floor, with gaping beak and protruding

tongue. One winged Kite we kept alive in the grounds at Jerez for years,

but though practically at liberty, he invariably feigned death or deadly

sickness when approached. Five minutes afterwards, nevertheless, he was

quite game to tackle one of our chickens! In the midst of the din and

flutter sat the Imperial Eagle, silent, motionless, and unconcerned;

perched on the carcase of a Flamingo, his flat shapely head turned

slowly as the keen eye followed every movement of the intruder, whose

presence he otherwise disdained. The Tawny Eagle (above mentioned)

displayed in captivity even greater _insouciance_ and a nobler demeanour

than the Imperial, while both birds, heavy and massive as they looked,

exhibited marvellous agility in pouncing upon the luckless rat who might

presume to trespass upon their domain and attempt to steal their food.

Such are some of our experiences of the eagles of the Spanish lowlands.

The Imperial Eagle is, _par excellence_, the monarch of the

plain--resident throughout the year (though the young are known,

occasionally, to cross the Pyrenees into France), and in his varied

phases comparatively common. Next in importance comes a large tawny

eagle of, as yet, undefined specific rank, which, for the reasons above

set forth, we consider entitled to a place in the list. Then, in spring,

come the Booted and Serpent-Eagles from Africa to nest on Spanish soil

and prey on its abundant reptile-life. But in winter two other species

descend from their mountain-homes to prey on the game and wildfowl of

the lowlands. These are the Golden Eagle and Bonelli's Eagle--both

described more particularly in the next chapter--of which we have shot

specimens on the plains during the winter months. The two Golden Eagles

now in the Zoological Gardens were both shot by us in the flat country,

or _campiña_, in the neighbourhood of Jerez de la Frontera--one winged

as it flew to roost in the _pinales_ of Los Inglesillos, the other by a

chance shot in the rough, broken country beyond Garciagos.

[Illustration: AT ROOST--SERPENT-EAGLES.]

CHAPTER XVII.

FURTHER EXPERIENCES WITH EAGLES AND VULTURES.

II.--CHIEFLY RELATING TO THE SIERRA.

On a hot May morning we lay beneath the shade of palms and eucalypti in

the garden at Jerez, watching the gyrations of Kestrels, Swifts, and

Bee-eaters, and lazily listening to the soft bird-chorus--an infinite,

space-filling refrain from myriad Nightingales, Serins, and

Gold-finches--to the spondee of Hoopoe and dactyl of Quail. Presently

there appeared, far overhead, some half-dozen Griffon Vultures wheeling

in immense circles, the huge birds dwarfed by the altitude to mere

specks. Then another stratum, still higher, was detected, and afterwards

a keen eye distinguished a third, and then a fourth, beyond the average

range of human vision. How many more tiers of soaring vultures might yet

occupy the regions of unseen space beyond, cannot be told: but the

incident serves to illustrate the system on which Nature's great

scavengers patrol the land. The lower strata we estimated at 800 to

1,000 yards altitude, and these only, it is probable, are on active

service, the upper tiers merely standing by, ready to profit by the

discoveries of all the working parties that may be in sight beneath

them: for at the enormous elevations of the uppermost birds, it is

impossible to suppose that even a vulture's eye could detect so small an

object as, say, a dead goat on the earth.

There is something peculiarly impressive in the appearance of these

colossal birds and in the automaton-like ease of their flight. Ponderous

bodies appear suspended in mid-air without visible effort or

exertion--the great square wings extended, rigid and motionless, filled

with air like the wands of a wind-mill, enable them to rest on space, to

soar for hours, as it were, by mere volition. How all the vultures

manage to find subsistence is a problem, for even in Spain the earth is

not strewn with carcases, as on a battle-field.

Towards a certain point of the evergreen plain of palmetto, there is a

visible concentration of soaring forms: thither a string of creaking

_carros_ has conveyed to their last resting-place some dead horses, the

victims of Sunday's bull-fight. Thither flock the vultures to hold high

carnival: and a striking sight it is to watch perhaps forty or fifty, as

they soar and wheel in as many opposing, concentric circles, gradually

focussing themselves over the point of attraction. But as they fold

their wings and gather in a seething mass around the carrion, all that

was majestic and imposing disappears--as they tear open the flanks and,

with spluttering growls and gurgles, and flapping of huge wings, dive

their great bare necks into the innermost penetralia, the spectacle

changes to the repulsive. Yet, as the only existing system of

scavengers, they are performing a useful office. Quickly swells the

crowd: from every quarter come more and more--the heavens seem alive

with hurrying forms sweeping down to the banquet. As the earlier

arrivals become satiated, they withdraw a few yards from the revels to

enjoy the state of rare repletion, perched on a neighbouring tree or

hillock, where they sit with distended crop, fluffed-out feathers and

half-closed wings, gorged to the last mouthful, but making room for

fresh comers, hungry as they had been before. Thus within a few hours

the luckless horses have found a tomb, and when the Griffons have left

nothing but bare bones, then another feathered scavenger appears, the

Neophron, or in Spanish _Quebranta-huesos_, _i.e._, the bone-smasher,

who sets diligently to work to loosen the ligaments and tear the

skeleton asunder. Then, one by one, the bones are carried off and broken

by being dropped from a height upon the rocks, when the fragments are

devoured: thus the earth is cleansed of corrupting matter.

[Illustration: Plate XXIV.

A VULTURES' BANQUET.

Page 200.]

Vultures, though found all over Spain--whether in mountain, marsh, or

plain--breed only in the sierras. We have observed them in every

province from Guipúzcoa to Galicia, and from Asturias to Mediterranean;

but nowhere do they so greatly abound as in Andalucia, and especially in

that wild mountain-region which forms the southernmost apex of Europe.

Here they may fairly be said to swarm, and in our many campaigns in

these sierras we have had abundant opportunities of observing them "at

home." Here the Griffon Vultures build their broad flat nests on shelves

and ledges of the crags, or in caves in the face of sheer walls of rock,

many of which exceed 2,000 feet in vertical altitude. The little town of

Grazalema is perched on the verge of one of these stupendous _tajos_;

from the window of the _posada_ one can drop a pebble to invisible

depths, midway down which a colony of _Buitres_ have had their eyries

from time immemorial. The hill-villages of Arcos, El Bosque, Villa

Martin, and Bornos, all present similar instances--man seeking the

highest apex, the vultures its middle heights, beyond reach of bullet

from above or below. Ronda, too, has its _tajo_, but we do not recollect

seeing any vultures breeding actually beneath the town.

The Griffons commence repairing their nests as early as January--we have

watched them carrying claw-fulls of grass and cut branches from places

where charcoal-burners had been lopping the trees, on January 21st; a

single large white egg is laid in February, incubation lasts forty days,

and a naked, blue-skinned chick is hatched early in April. The young

vultures are of extremely slow growth, spending full three months in the

nest. By mid-May they are as big as Guinea-fowls: ungainly-looking

creatures, all crop and maw, with feathers beginning to show through the

thick white down.

[Illustration: GRIFFON VULTURE AND NEST. (Puerta de Palomas.)]

[Illustration: STRANGE NEIGHBOURS.]

Palomas, whose crags were tenanted by numerous Griffons, and the strange

growls made by them on returning to their eyries was often the first

sound heard on awakening. Once at that period (May) we were imprisoned

in the Sierra de Ubrique, both our animals having fallen lame through

loss of shoes, and it was with no small difficulty we eventually

extricated ourselves from the heart of those rugged, pathless mountains.

During four days and nights we were encamped in the wild pass of the

Puerta de at daybreak, in our roofless bedroom among the boulders,

mingled with the awakening notes of the Blue-thrush and Alpine chough.

These nests proved to be quite the easiest of access we ever saw--the

cliffs being rather a chaotic jumble of big rocks and monoliths than

crags proper; and by clambering over these we reached sixteen

nests--many very slight affairs, with bare rock projecting through the

scanty structure--of which only two held more than a single poult. The

nests of the Griffon--albeit malodorous--are always cleanly. These

vultures feed their young exclusively on half-digested food which they

disgorge from their own crops--hence there is no carrion or putrefying

matter lying about, as is the case at the nests of the Neophron and

Lammergeyer. It is the male vulture only that, at this season,

undertakes lengthened journeys into the plains and low-lands, remaining

absent for days together in search of supplies, and returning crop-full

of unsavoury store. The vultures seen on the distant plains in spring

are all males, the females remaining at or near their nests. The sketch

on page 209 represents a curious scene. On the treeless plains of the

Isla Mayor many vultures roost (in April) on a solitary clump of dead

_encinas_, the lower branches and forks of which are also occupied by

the nests of five or six pairs of White Storks.

Three of these eyries were situate on abrupt, detached stacks of rock,

so easily accessible that we almost "walked" into them. Some years

afterwards, passing through this sierra on March 1st, we found the three

stacks occupied as before, each nest containing a single egg.

During this scramble we came suddenly upon a pair of Eagle-Owls,

solemnly dreaming away the hours in a deep cavern; but, being in an

awkward position on the crag-face, could not spare a hand to secure

them. These caverns were also occupied by Choughs and Rock-Martins

(_Cotyle rupestris_), the latter sharing a cave with hundreds of

bats.[43]

Eventually, after dragging the lame beasts some twenty miles, we got

clear of the sierra, but found that our absence had caused much anxiety

at Jerez. On the outward ride, it had so chanced, we were present at a

sad accident by which two men and their nine mules lost their lives,

while attempting to cross the swollen Guadalete at the Barca Florida.

Consequently we did not attempt the ford, and only reached the sierra

after a long detour: but news of the accident having reached Jerez, and

our disappearance being unluckily attributed thereto, the curious result

was that the first person we met on the _vega_ of Guadalete was honest

old Blas, all solemn and dejected, as he endeavoured, by watching the

flight of the vultures, to discover our remains!

The beautiful crags of Zurita and the Agredera impending our historic

Guadalete, and lying about a dozen miles from Jerez, are a favourite

spring ride. In April their lower slopes are resplendent with acres of

rhododendrons just bursting into bloom, crimson peonies peep from arid

nooks, and the riverside is fringed with laurestinus and myrtle,

oleanders, sallows and palmetto, all resonant with the melody of

nightingales. To these crags the Neophron, or Egyptian Vulture, yearly

resorts, and six or eight nests may be found in a day's ramble, all

placed in holes or fissures of the cliff, which, from its rottenness and

overhung form, is far from easy to scale. Nor is a Neophron's eyry a

very delectable spot when reached; for, handsome as he looks on wing,

this vulture is one of the foulest of feeders. The stench at his abode

is overpowering; all around lies carrion in every stage of corruption,

while swarms of loathsome flies rise and buzz heavily around the

intruder. The nest itself is made of rags and wool--no sticks--and the

two eggs, often as richly coloured as a Peregrine's, are laid early in

April. Though the food of the Neophron is mostly bones, _ordure_, and

garbage, yet it will, exceptionally, take living creatures; a male, shot

on April 19th, when returning to his nest, carried in his beak the yet

writhing remains of a small snake. In a rather low part of this range of

crags (its highest point, the Agredera peak, is 1,000 feet plumb) a

pair of Golden Eagles had their nest, or rather two nests, which they

used alternately. The birds did not appear, but we saw the nests,

immense masses of sticks conspicuously protruding from crevices in the

crag, about forty yards apart. These cliffs are also tenanted by a

colony of Genets.

In Andalucia, as in Eastern Europe, the Neophron occasionally nests upon

trees. In the lovely, park-like country half a day's ride eastward of

Jerez, several pairs breed yearly on high _encinas_, or ilex. Here, in

spring, we have seen the old vultures on the nest, and in July have

observed big young--dark brown fellows--perched on adjoining branches.

For instance:--

_April 10th, 1891._--Examined to-day three Neophrons' nests on

ilex-trees at the Encinar del Visco--broad, solid structures, twice as

large as those of the Kites, and warmly lined with cows'-hair, wool, &c.

Owing to the backward season, there were no eggs, though in 1883 we took

two clutches (each two eggs) on same date.[44]

[Illustration: Plate XXV.

"WHERE THE CARCASE IS."

Page 213.]

One afternoon in the early part of July, 1872--a period when Andalucia

was seething with revolution and communistic ideas--a young Golden Eagle

was brought in by José Larrios, a man we often employed in sport and

country campaigns--the same José whose dare-devil escapade with a bull

we have already related (see p. 10). This eaglet he had brought from the

Sierra de Alcalá de los Gazules, nearly forty miles distant, where his

brothers held a small mountain-farm; and there remained, he said,

another fledgeling in the eyrie. The writer, in those early days, had

not succeeded in shooting the Royal Eagle, and the ambition to do so was

intense, despite the difficulty of the communists. Two days before we

had returned from a fortnight's expedition to the westward, and when

riding towards Jerez were stopped by a military cordon who invested the

town and demanded our credentials. These being satisfactory, the officer

in command informed us that street-fighting was taking place, and

detained us till evening, when he kindly furnished us with an escort. We

found that two days previously the city had been seized by an armed mob,

thousands strong, who by a sudden _coup_ had gained possession of the

public buildings and barricaded the streets. On the arrival of a troop

of cavalry from Seville the mutineers incontinently fled, save a mere

handful of the bolder spirits, who stood to their improvised defences to

the last, and were finally shot down within the church of San Juan,

wherein they had sought refuge. This revolution thus crumbled to

nothing, though at one time it threatened to exceed in violence that of

three years before (1869), when the barricades were taken at the point

of the bayonet, and hundreds of insurgents were shot down in the streets

of Jerez.

For the moment danger was past, and the city, within the armed cordon,

restored to normal condition, though outside the state of the adjacent

country was not certain. Keenness to kill the Royal Eagle of the sierras

was paramount, and at midnight José and I set out from La Compañia, the

old Jesuit convent which was then our home, and traversing the dark

streets and narrow, sandy lanes beyond, we were soon clear of the town,

and by daylight had reached the ford of the Alamillo, where we crossed

the Guadalete, and were breakfasting at 6.30 in the hill-village of

Paterna--five leagues. Early in the afternoon we completed the twelve

leagues and reached the little _cortijo_ of Jautor, the abode of José's

two brothers, who agreed to take us to the eagle's nest that evening.

Jautor is surrounded by towering sierras, and we proceeded on foot up a

rough goat-track, choked with strong brushwood, and leading up the steep

southern acclivity. After climbing and walking about two hours, we

reached the nest, a huge pile of sticks surmounting an oak-tree which

hung over a deep _garganta_ or mountain-ravine. What was my vexation to

find, after eighteen hours' labour, that it was empty! On one side lay

part of the leg of a kid, and about half a hare, both quite fresh, but

the eaglet was gone; and though we waited till dusk on the chance of the

old bird returning, we saw nothing, and had to retrace our weary steps,

sticking and stumbling in the dark, to the shepherds' hut, deadbeat and

disappointed.

The _choza_ was a mere hut built of long _cañas_ or reeds, in the form

of an extinguisher, the interior being circular, some 15ft. in diameter,

occupied by many goats, poultry, and cats--not to mention minor

inhabitants, and with a wood fire smouldering in the centre. I had

hardly coiled myself in my rug and laid down to sleep on the low mud

settee which ran round the back of the den, when a furious outburst of

barking took place among the numerous dogs which lay sleeping round the

fire. The goatherd opened the door, and there entered an old man,

bronze-visaged and wiry, leading behind him a donkey. He was a smuggler,

and his packs, crammed with contraband of infinite variety, were soon

deposited on the floor, and the donkey hobbled and turned out to find

bed and breakfast where it might. Then the _cerrones_ were unpacked, and

their multifarious contents displayed on the mud floor--pins, needles

and scissors, buttons, and bobbins of thread, tobacco, tape, and sundry

kinds of coloured cloth and bright ribbons. The latter at once "fetched"

the feminine portion of the community--alas! for the chances of sleep

for the weary--female nature is everywhere the same, even in the _choza_

of a goatherd buried amidst these lonely sierras, and bargaining and

chatter continued well-nigh throughout the livelong night.

The simple peasants, though unable to comprehend my object, were

sincerely distressed at our failure; and next morning, while we were

busy cooking our breakfast under the shade of a spreading laurestinus,

came to say there was another eagle's nest on the opposite side of the

valley. They had kindly sent a lad at daybreak to make inquiries at a

neighbouring farm, four miles distant. Thither accordingly we set out,

riding for several miles till the ascent became so abrupt, and

intercepted with brushwood, that it was necessary to picket the horses,

leaving them in charge of a lad, and to proceed on foot. We crossed the

ridge of the sierra and entered an upland valley beyond, where, in a

tall poplar, standing slightly apart, was a rather small nest containing

a single eaglet. I must have fallen asleep at my post, for presently

José, who had left me in ambush, aroused me to say that the eagle had

returned, fed her young, and departed! While we were talking the female

flew overhead, and instantly catching sight of us, with a scream dropped

a rabbit she was carrying, and soared heavenwards. My shot dropped her

stone-dead, and she fell within a few yards of her victim--a female of

the Serpent-Eagle, a species well known on the wooded plains, but which

we had hardly expected to find in the mountains. We have related this

incident because there followed one of the most singular occurrences

that have happened within our ornithological experiences. On being

skinned, this eagle was found to contain the almost entire remains of a

young eagle, which, from its feathered tarsi and general appearance, was

certainly a nestling Golden Eagle--the counterpart, perhaps the brother,

of the one José had already brought alive to Jerez! We can only state

the bare fact, as above, and surmise that the youngster was yesterday

the occupant of the eyrie we had travelled so far to despoil, and that

the actual and would-be destroyers had thus accidentally come in

collision.

About a league further the valley terminated in a fine amphitheatre of

crags, showing remarkably bold and abrupt escarpments. The highest part

was occupied by a colony of Griffons, and while resting for an hour or

so in a niche of this mountain rampart, I shot four of the great birds.

Collectively they measured across the expanded wings some thirty-eight

feet, and though we had no means of weighing them, estimated them at

about forty pounds apiece. One of the vultures shot here, a fine bird

with bushy white frill, the peasants asserted to be between 300 and 400

years old, though how they could tell is a mystery. This bird was killed

with ball on the wing. The smell of Griffon Vultures when shot is strong

and most offensive: their claws and long feathers are always much

abraded by attrition on the rocks, and their whole plumage has a worn

and faded appearance, in harmony with the decay and death in which they

rejoice.

The young vultures were at last (July 8th) on the wing, having spent

some three months in the nests:[45] they are now of a clear, bright

cinnamon colour, much handsomer than the adults, each feather being

shaded; and one shot to-day measured between eight and nine feet in

expanse of wing.

Our lofty perch commanded a grand mountain landscape--sierras extending

range beyond range in swelling stony masses or jagged sky-lines. Alpine

Swifts dashed overhead; Blackchats and Blue Rock-Thrushes flitted among

the crags, and, with the great vultures soaring above and below,

afforded some interesting scenes. The mid-day heat was intense, and we

had a rough tramp down to the horses through broken ground and thick

young wood, where we disturbed a Roe and saw many traces of others. It

was after dark when we reached a miserable wayside venta, where,

alongside half a dozen snoring peasants and tormented by a million

fleas, we passed the night on the ground.

[Illustration: BONELLI'S EAGLE. (Adult Female, shot July 10th, 1872.)]

Returning homewards next morning, while we were passing through the

outlying spurs or foothills of the sierra, a pair of large dark eagles

were observed hunting a scrub-covered ridge. The larger of the two

presently swept down upon an unlucky rabbit and forthwith commenced to

devour it, the male perching on a stump hard by. They were favourably

situate for a stalk, and by riding round in a wide circuit I gained the

reverse of the ridge. On creeping forward to my marks, however, I could

at first see nothing--only a few palmetto bushes some distance down the

slope. Having crawled to these, I perceived the eagle busily tearing up

her prey in a slight hollow of the ground. She was only forty yards

away, yet the sitting shot (broadside on) produced no effect. A "green

wire-cartridge, No. 1" from the left, broke a wing as she rose, and,

after some little trouble, she was secured. She proved to be a Bonelli's

Eagle (_Aquila bonellii_), a perfect adult specimen, dark brown above,

with white breast boldly streaked and splashed with black: the bushy

"stockings" and warm reddish-brown _tarsi_ contrasting with the long

white "apron" which overlapped them. (_See photo._)

Thus occurred--over twenty years ago--our first introduction to

Bonelli's Eagle: since then we have met with them frequently in the

southern sierras, in the Castiles, and once in the Biscayan Provinces.

It is, in fact, the commonest mountain-breeding eagle in Spain, and is

easily recognizable by its short, dappled wings, and by the peculiar

feature that the _middle_ of the back is white--thus, if seen from

above, the bird appears to have a large white spot between the wings.

In former days, the hill-peasants assert that it bred in quite low

rocks, and several such abandoned eyries have been pointed out to us:

but we have only seen its nest in the most stupendous rock-walls--places

that make one's flesh creep to survey. The two eggs, usually white, but

occasionally splashed or spotted, are laid in the early days of

February--we have watched these eagles repairing their nest at

Christmas. The young in first plumage, like those of the Imperial Eagle,

are of a chestnut-tawny hue. The claws of Bonelli's Eagle are remarkably

long and powerful, and its chief prey consists of hares, rabbits, and

other game. Hares it appears unable to carry up _whole_ to its eyry on

the heights, tearing them into halves, and birds found in its nest are

usually headless.

The Golden Eagle also breeds in all the mountain-regions of Spain, both

in high rocks and occasionally (as above mentioned) on trees. Its nest

is often an enormous structure--quite a cartload of sticks.

The Golden and Bonelli's Eagles are strictly denizens of the mountains:

but in autumn both species descend to the plains and marismas in search

of prey. On more than one occasion, while shooting on the lowlands in

winter, we have secured a Golden Eagle as he flew to roost in the

pine-woods: and on Nov. 29th, some years ago, while flight-shooting, a

Bonelli's Eagle was so intent on the capture of a winged Ruddy Sheldrake

(_Tadorna rutila_) which had fallen to a neighbouring gun, as almost to

fly into the writer's _puesto_. This eagle was in the act of lifting

the heavy duck off the water when a charge of big shot cut him down.

Our old _cazador_, Felipe, who has since become keeper on a rabbit and

partridge preserve fully twenty miles from the nearest point of the

sierra, told us that so many eagles come down to prey on his rabbits

during the months of November and December that during the preceding

season he had killed over thirty. Felipe added that they were mostly

Golden and Bonelli's Eagles (_Aguila perdicera_ he called the latter),

with a few Serpent-Eagles earlier in the autumn. At the time of our

visit (January) most of the eagles had retired to the sierras to breed:

but a few days afterwards Felipe rode in with a cargo which sorely

puzzled the officials of the _consumos_ (octroi), for under either arm

he bore an eagle, and in a sack on his back were two immense wild-cats!

The eagles were _A. chrysäetus_, and an immature, tawny-breasted

Bonelli.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVIII.

ON SPANISH AGRICULTURE.

I.--CEREALS, GREEN CROPS, ETC.

Around Spanish agriculture, as around other Iberian industries, hangs a

cloud of almost Oriental apathy. A land which might be one of the

granaries of Europe is so neglected that, even with an import duty on

corn, it is barely self-supporting--indeed, during 1889, Spain had to

pay upwards of one million sterling for imported wheat.

Since the fall of Moorish dominion, the population of Andalucia has

fallen to less than half; large areas which in Moorish days were smiling

corn-lands, to-day lie barren and unproductive, choked with

brushwood--the great southern _despoblados_, or deserts.

Nearly one-half the entire land of Spain (to be exact, 45·8 per cent.)

is without cultivation of any kind; and of the rest, the productive

powers are but half utilized. The yield of the best land in a favourable

season rarely reaches forty bushels per acre, and the average, taking

one year with another, may be placed at twenty; while in Northumberland

thirty bushels is an average, and fifty a not infrequent yield.

The three chief agricultural products of Spain are corn, oil, and

wine--of the latter, we treat more particularly in another chapter. The

corn-farms--each usually including a certain proportion of

olive-wood--extend from four or five hundred acres up to large holdings

of as many thousand; and, as a rule, are cultivated by their

non-resident owners, through a steward.[46]

[Illustration: Plate XXVI.

PLOUGHING WITH OXEN.

Page 221.]

Even in the case of rented land, the farmer seldom himself lives on his

holding, but entrusts the management to an agent, while he resides in

his town house. Neither landowner nor farmer live in the country.

This deep-rooted antipathy to a country-life is one of the many causes

of the decrepitude of Spanish agriculture, among which may be specified

the following:--

1.--The custom of absenteeism.

2.--The antiquated system of tillage.

3.--The absence of woods and plantations, the beneficial effects of

which on climate and atmosphere are specially necessary in this hot, dry

country. The comparatively small forest-areas are, in many parts, as

previously stated, being rapidly reduced by the hatchet of the

charcoal-burner.

4.--The neglect of irrigation. In wet winters, the low-lying lands are

flooded, and the whole country is water-logged; in summer the reverse is

the case--moisture is non-existent, every green thing is burnt up, yet

no attempt is made to direct and conserve the rain-supplies, albeit the

remains of the aqueducts and irrigation-works of Roman and Moor are ever

present to suggest the silent lesson of former foresight and prosperity.

Of a total area of some forty-four and a half million acres under

cultivation, _less than two_ millions are irrigated (_regadio_), leaving

forty-two and a half million acres of "dry lands" (_secano_).

The following table forms an interesting commentary--to those who can

endure statistics--on the state of agriculture in Spain. It shows the

exact proportion of irrigated and non-irrigated land under each crop,

&c. The figures represent "_fanegas_" which are, roughly, equivalent to

acres.

Crop or Condition. Irrigated. Dry Lands.

(_Regadio._) (_Secano._)

Garden produce, vegetables, &c. 245,798 --

Fruit-trees 58,095 384,642

Corn and seeds 1,139,964 18,983,410

Vines 66,859 2,121,070

Olive-woods 76,538 1,181,386

Meadow 291,240 842,319

Salt-pans 29,174 --

Pasturage -- 3,963,538

Groves and marshy dells (_alamedas y sotos_) -- 130,570

Brushwood (_monte, alto y bajo_) -- 7,279,346

Winter grazings (_eriales con pastos_) -- 5,193,331

Threshing-grounds, &c. (_eras y canteras_) -- 48,277

Non-productive -- 2,452,239

__________ __________

Total 1,907,168 42,580,148

Oriental customs survive in the hiring of labour, both for field and

vineyard. Men are not employed permanently--only "taken on" as occasion

requires. A hiring-place is the feature of Spanish rural towns--the

Plaza, or public square, usually serving the purpose. Here, at all

hours, but notably at early morn and sunset, stand groups of swarthy

labourers, waiting for hire, and contentedly smoking their cigarettes

till some _capataz_, or foreman, comes to terms with them.

Corn and wine are cultivated by distinct classes of labourers--those for

the vineyard, superior workmen, gaining thrice the pay of the others. In

the vineyards the men receive the equivalent of three francs a day, with

oil and vinegar--important items in a hot country--while the corn-farmer

only pays one franc, with bread and oil.

The only permanent hands at a vineyard are the capataz and his

assistant, the duties of the latter being to bring bread from the town

on his pannier-mule, and water from the best or nearest well in those

cool earthen pitchers called _cántaros_. Water is almost as important as

food. Among the poor it is the national drink--the quality produced by

each well is known and often discussed. Andalucians are critical judges

of water, classing it as _mala_, bad, unwholesome; _gorda_, turbid or

flavoured; _regulár_, pretty good, and _agua rica_, the best of bright

sparkling water. In praising his native hamlet, the first point with a

Spanish peasant will be "_the water there is good_." Water, however, be

it _gorda_ or _rica_, they must have; and wherever on glowing plain or

calcined hill-side one sees a gang of labourers gently scratching the

earth with tiny hoe, there also are sure to be lying those porous,

amphora-shaped _cántaros_ full of water, ice-cold, albeit a tropical sun

has for hours impinged vertically on their porous sides. Oh, how

delicious a draught can be enjoyed from those rude, old-world vessels

surely none but thirst-stricken labourer under Spanish summer sun--be he

peasant or bustard-shooter--can ever fully realize!

At the cortijo, or corn-farm, are four or five permanent employés--the

steward, the bread-maker, and the tenders of the working oxen. All the

rest of the labourers--men or women--are hired temporarily as required.

Herdsmen and shepherds we do not include, as these do not live at the

farm, but in some reed-built _choza_, or other rough shelter hard by

their flocks. Hence it will be seen that the class of labour employed on

arable land is of the lowest--there is none of the inducement to steady

industry begotten of permanent place. At the vineyards, in addition to

the higher rate of wage, the food supplied is also much superior. This

industry, in short, absorbs the pick of the labour-market. No women are

employed in the vineyards, nor allowed to touch a vine, though on the

farms many are engaged for such work as hoeing and weeding.

To become the capataz of a vineyard is the highest ambition of the

labourer. To go into the market-place and hire, instead of standing

there to be hired, are obviously very different things. It implies,

besides, permanent wages at increased rate, without manual work to do,

for the capataz only orders.

He hires the labourers required, often with an eye to his own advantage.

The master never sees the men engaged: there is no check on the honesty

of the agent, but considerable variation in the quality of the hired.

The old, the halt and lame, if friends of the capataz, receive the same

pay as the young and strong. Although all may go forth into the vineyard

at the seventh hour, there is yet ground for doubting the substantial

justice of the nineteenth-century capataz as there was in olden days of

Bible history.

[Illustration: WOODEN PLOUGHSHARE.]

These and other minor abuses will not be remedied till landowner and

farmer live on their properties--a thing unknown in Spain. The farmer,

or _labrador_--as with grotesque incongruity he styles himself--lives in

his cool and luxurious mansion in the town, receiving visits every few

days from his steward; but months go by, even years, between his rare

visits to the farm. The land is, as a rule, his own, and being a man of

means, so long as things go on fairly, and his sacks of corn or casks of

wine arrive in town in due season, and without excessive pillage, he is

content.

Most of the farms being held by capitalists, the farmer can withstand

the loss of a few bad years: and when a good one comes--they calculate

one fat year to four lean--all losses are recouped and a large balance

to the good rewards his patience.

[Illustration: Plate XXVII.

THE HARVEST-FIELD.

Page 225.]

Ploughing, or what passes muster as such--a tickling of the surface by

tiny wooden ploughshare identical with those of Roman days, drawn by

yokes of tardy-plodding oxen--takes place in autumn. Wheat is sown in

December, the seed scattered broadcast, and one-third of the land laid

fallow each year. The fallows (_manchones_) in spring produce

wildernesses of weeds, as tall and rank as the corn itself, and gorgeous

with wild-flowers--Elysian fields for the bustards, which revel amidst

the ripening seeds and legions of locusts and grasshoppers. Here whole

acres glow with crimson trefoil, contrasting with the blue borage and

millions of convolvuli: there are lilies and balsams, asphodel, iris,

and narcissi of every hue--but it is idle to attempt to describe the

unspeakable floral beauties of the Spanish _manchon_.

The fallows are not, however, left to waste their substance entirely on

weeds and wild-flowers, for they form the best spring-grazing grounds

for cattle, and thus, too, receive a certain allowance of manure.

One's patience is exercised to watch the tardy oxen creeping along those

league-long furrows! Even in our English corn-lands, in the fifty-acre

fields of Norfolk or Northumberland, there appears to our non-technical

eyes a grievous disproportion between the work to be done and the means

employed, albeit a dozen stout draughts may be at work in a single

field. Here, where the "field" stretches away unbroken by fence or hedge

to the horizon, a day's journey in either direction for those plodding

oxen, the task truly appears more hopeless than the labours of Sisyphus.

Not even on the prairies of Western America can they boast a longer

furrow than can be traced on these plains of tawny, treeless Spain. Well

may the ploughman seek, by chanting old-time ditties, to avoid utter

vacuity of mind.

In June and July the harvest is gathered in--no musical rattle of

reaper, for the sickle still holds its place: and over the breadth of

fallen swathe soar hawks of every sort and size, preying on the locusts

and other large insects and reptiles now deprived of their accustomed

covert.

Then follows the threshing of the corn, an operation which is carried on

with the primitive simplicity of the patriarchs of old--perhaps on

precisely the same lines. The sheaves are brought from the stubble on

creaking bullock-carts, and thrown on the _era_, or threshing-ground, a

hardened level space adjoining the farm. Here it is threshed--or rather,

trodden out under foot by the _yeguas_--brood-mares, a team of which are

kept briskly trotting over the circle of outstrewn sheaves, driven on by

a man who stands in the centre. With a long whip and the skill of a

circus manager, he drives the mares in circles, round and round--this is

the only duty asked of the _yeguas_ all the year, except that of

maternity. Amidst clouds of dust and heat the sweating animals are urged

on till the corn and brittle straw is trodden into finest chaff. Then

the mares are rested, the grain and chaff pushed aside to make room for

fresh sheaves, and the operation is repeated till all the produce has

been trodden out.

The next process is to throw the broken corn high in air with broad

wooden shovels. The wind serves to separate the grain from the chaff,

the former falling in heaps on the earth, while the lighter material

drifts away to leeward. The grain is gathered into sacks, loaded upon

donkeys, and away goes the team to the owner's granary in the town: as

many as three score, and more, of patient _borricos_ may often at this

season be seen plodding along the dusty byeway. Similarly one sees, at

the same season, the casks of newly-pressed wine being jolted along on

bullock-carts towards the town, along rough roads or tracks that will

not be required again till the same traffic occurs after the next year's

vintage.

The broken straw and chaff is stored in large stacks, to form the staple

food for horses and cattle during the winter: and is indeed of good

quality, affording as much nutriment as the best hay, of which none is

grown in this southern land.[47]

[Illustration: Plate XXVIII.

THRESHING THE CORN WITH YEGUAS (MARES).

Page 226.]

The corn goes to the owner's granary, the wine to his bodega, and all is

soon safely housed within the city walls. Nothing, beyond actual

necessaries, is left in the country.

The antipathy evinced by Spaniards towards the country is a curious

feature of this southern life. No Spaniard, rich or poor, will remain in

the country for a single night, even in the green and glorious

spring-time when the Andalucian _vegas_ revel in richest charm to eye

and ear. The labourers whose work takes them into the _campo_ do their

best to get back by night: even the poorest prefer a walk of several

miles, morning and evening, rather than remain overnight amidst rustic

scenes. Centuries of former insecurity may explain this: but now no

present cause can be assigned beyond the force of habit, and perhaps the

fear of being overtaken by sudden illness or death beyond the reach of

priest--in which case the last rites of religion might not be available.

Whatever be the cause, the country gentleman, the country parson and

doctor, Hodge and rural population generally, are unknown in Spain. The

landowner hies him townwards at night to his gossip, his _paséo_ and his

favourite game of _tresillo_ at the casino--the workman to his village,

his wife and bairns in the humble tenement he proudly calls his _casa_.

Spain is a land of customs and accepted traditions--be they good or bad.

For centuries no one has sought to introduce a novelty--say a taste for

rural life, though the conditions for its enjoyment exist here as

favourably, at least, as elsewhere. So far as we can judge, the

vesper-bell will continue for all time to gather in the natives to the

cities as rookeries unite their flocks when every sun goes down.

This, of course, does not apply to farmsteads remote from town or

village, where labourers and herdsmen perforce live as in a rural

fortress. It is not surprising that, with the gregarious instincts of

the Spanish people, the lot of such men should be despised; and that

there should arise in these unhappy groups, isolated for weeks from kith

and kin, and with the barest means of subsistence, that spirit of

discontent which resulted in 1883 in the _mano negra_, and this year in

that anarchical furor which, on both occasions, was expiated on the

scaffold.

Agriculture in Spain is thus deprived of that _gracia_ which in other

lands distinguishes it from other commercial pursuits. It is devoid of

that loving, homely interest that in England attaches to it, making the

cultivation of the soil--at least when conducted (willingly) by the

landowner--something of a recreation or "labour of love." Here, nothing

beyond elementary and imperative operations are carried on--those which

a rule-of-thumb experience has shown to give fairly good results with a

minimum of trouble. Experiments are things unknown. There is a settled

conviction among the agricultural class that improvement is impossible,

that their patriarchal system represents perfection. Reward is looked

for rather in a twenty or thirty-fold return once in every four or five

years by luck of favouring climatic conditions, than sought to be

assured by skill and the adoption of modern modes of tillage.

Corn-growing nevertheless does pay in Spain, owing to the import-duty on

foreign grain, which ensures a profit to the home-producer. But fortunes

realized on the _cortijo_ are always ascribed rather to a run of good

luck than to any other specific cause.

He would be a bold man who departed from the traditional systems in

vogue since time began, in this land where "whatever is is best." And a

strange fatality does await experimental changes. The very soil seems to

repel innovation. A firm of practical English agriculturists failed

signally some thirty years ago, and one still hears it satirically told

how the deep-searching iron ploughshares from Inglaterra left offended

fields which for years afterwards refused to yield a crop.

[Illustration: Plate XXIX.

WINNOWING.

Page 228.]