Further explorations had no better result: in the forests of the Sierra

de la Jarda were a good many roe and some pig, but we did not care to

risk the uncertainty of a _batida_ all alone. Partridge are very scarce

on all these hills, and no wonder, since every farmer keeps his pair of

call-birds (_reclamos_). We had gently hinted to Francisco the unwisdom

of shooting partridges to decoys in spring; but he insisted it did no

harm, since _he only shot the cocks_! A pair or two of partridges at

long intervals were all we saw (two or three brace a day was the utmost

we could bag as a rule), and these, with a few hares and a chance

rabbit, are all the small game of the sierra. In the marshy valleys were

flights of peewits (January), and the woods swarmed with thrushes,

blackbirds, chaffinches, green and brown linnets, robins, a few

redwings, and other common species. A striking bird among the dense

scrub on the hillsides was the little Dartford warbler, a creature of

such intensely tame and skulking habits, that it was impossible to get a

shot beyond a few yards--which involved annihilation of so tiny an atom.

After another week's exploration, sleeping at the _chozas_ of goatherds,

or in bat-haunted caves, and enduring much discomfort, we decided to

give it up.[59] On the homeward journey we gave a day to the exploration

of the Boca de la Foz, where on a former occasion we had had a shot at a

Lammergeyer--a grey-brown immature bird; but here again we met with

nothing but the ubiquitous vultures, and in the afternoon we had paid

off our guides and were starting on the homeward ride, when Benitez

pointed out a _pajaraco_ in the distance. At first the bird appeared an

ordinary griffon, some of which were close by; but as it came overhead,

there was no mistaking the outlines of the Lammergeyer. Slowly the

magnificent bird wheeled and sailed overhead, and our eyes feasted on

the object we would have given two little fingers to possess. For some

minutes he treated us to a fine view at moderately short distance. The

general contour and flight was far more vulturine and less falcon-like

than we had expected. The wings seemed fully as heavy, broad, and square

at the points as those of a griffon, but there was rather more curve at

the elbow. A lightish spot near the tips of the quills, the rich tawny

breast and white head, keenly turning from side to side, were very

conspicuous from below; but the distinguishing characteristic of the

bird is its tail. This is very long, and continues broadening out for

half its length, thence narrowing down acutely to the sharp wedge-shaped

tip.

Presently the bird appeared to enter some great crags--already hidden

from view by an intervening bluff--and the hopes of a shot revived.

Benitez was protesting against the idea of spending another night here,

with no food for man or beast, when the Lammergeyer solved the question

by re-appearing, and after a few fine aërial evolutions, winged his way

direct towards the distant sierras beyond Grazalema.

That night we reached the little _venta_ of the Parada del Valle: the

landlord could hardly get over the curiosity of our wishing to wash

before dinner, and for some minutes revolved like a swivel-mitrailleuse,

expectorating all over the floor while pondering this thing in his mind.

"Ahora?" at last he inquired. "Si! ahora mismo!" we replied, when he

went and brought a thing that looked like a tin plate, containing about

a breakfast-cupful of water.

El Valle is a straggling little village situate in the mouth of one of

the defiles leading into the mountains, and consists of a few low

cottages and a single country-house--a rare thing in Spain--embowered

amidst orange and olive-groves. The orange harvest was in full swing,

and the villagers one and all busy gathering the golden fruit into

heaps, and packing it upon mules for market; some also in the long

wooden cases one sees about Covent Garden. The only sign-board in the

little one-sided street displayed the words "Dentista y Sangrador"--the

Spaniards, by the way, are strong believers in bleeding: it seems the

one known remedy, efficacious for all the ills of the flesh, as the

writer once learned by experience, when having had a slight sunstroke,

he awoke to find a rural medico in the act of applying the lancet to his

arm.

Before dawn we started for Jerez, and in a detached crag of the sierra

we obtained a fine adult male golden eagle which had breakfasted early

on a rabbit. Like most Spanish examples, this eagle was much splashed

with white below, especially on the thighs. Shortly after, on a bare

stretch of maize stubble, we rode fairly into a pack of little bustard,

and though the gun was in the slings a quick shot secured three--one to

the first barrel, and a brace, winged, to the second. A long skein of

cranes came gaggling over as we breakfasted on the banks of Guadalete,

and, passing the Agredera, by evening the long ride was over, and we

were once more amidst the grateful comforts of Jerez de la Frontera.

Only for a brief period, however, did these delay us, for on the

following evening we set out on a night expedition to the marisma.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE HOME OF THE LAMMERGEYER.

Since the time of those earlier efforts to scrape an acquaintance with

the Lammergeyer (some of which form the subject of the last chapter), we

have at length enjoyed opportunities of observing this grand bird in its

true home, and here add a short summary of these later experiences.

Broadly speaking, this bird may be said to exist in all the higher

mountain regions of Spain; but, as a rule, in small and decreasing

numbers. In the north, there are eyries in Guipúzcoa and Navarre, one or

two within sight of the French frontier; others in the Cordilleras of

Leon and the Asturias--the magnificent gorge known as the Desfiladero de

la Deva, being an immemorial haunt. We have observed them in the great

central sierras of Castile, and they are known (but probably do not

breed) in the Guadarrama range, within sight of Madrid. Nowhere common,

there are yet more sporadic pairs to be seen sweeping low on the steep

brown mountain-sides of certain Andalucian and Estremenian sierras than

anywhere else in Spain. Here, however, as elsewhere, their numbers are

being yearly reduced by the deadly poison laid by hill-farmers for

wolves, and, in some cases, expressly for the Lammergeyer itself; for,

rightly or wrongly, the great bird bears an ill-repute, and being,

moreover, during the breeding-season, of confiding disposition--more so

than eagle or vulture--is easily killed at the nest.

The Gypaëtus, like the noble eagles, is essentially a solitary bird,

each pair (they remain paired for life) requiring a mountain region

exclusively their own, and shunning the near propinquity of vultures and

other large raptores. It is no doubt this trait of its character that

explains its comparative absence from our "home" mountains round Ronda,

and the failure of our search for it in that district; for the

ramification of mountain-ranges which occupies that southernmost apex of

Europe swarms with vultures, which crowd every crag and precipice in

numbers quite unknown elsewhere. Such conditions are distasteful to the

solitude-loving Lammergeyer.

Yet, while shunned as near neighbours, it appears certain that the

vultures perform services of value to their nobler congener. Their

office consists in stripping the skeleton of flesh, and leaving prepared

for the "quebranta-huesos" (bone-smasher) his much preferred

_bonne-bouche_ of marrow-bones. Thus, while the respective haunts of the

two species remain distinct, their hunting-areas must coincide.

The Lammergeyer disdains carrion; is never seen at those seething

vulture-banquets which form so characteristic a spectacle in rural

Spain; but he loves the _bones_, and his habit of carrying huge tibia

and femora into the upper air, thence dropping them upon rocks, has been

known since the days of Æschylus. Hence the fouler feeders are useful to

him; he requires their assistance, but demands that they keep a

respectful distance. His attitude towards the vultures may be compared

with that of certain high-souled anthropoids of human affinity, who

utilize their humbler neighbours and cut them dead next day!

Thus it happens that while in a range of sierra inhabited by Griffons,

the Lammergeyer will not be found, yet a pair of the latter usually have

their eyrie at no great distance from the vulture-colony.[60]

During our ibex-shooting campaigns among the Mediterranean sierras, we

frequently fell in with this species.

[Illustration: Plate XXXV.

LAMMERGEYER. A sketch from life in the Sierra Bermeja.

Page 308.]

It was almost the first bird seen in the Sierra Bermeja, where a superb

adult passed slowly along our line, carrying what appeared to be a live

snake in his claws, some four feet of writhing reptile dangling beneath.

The Lammergeyer, by the way, like the eagle, carries everything in its

claws, not in the beak. We were rather surprised at seeing this bird

here, the local hunters having specially assured us that only "aguilas

reales" bred in that sierra. This name, however, proved to be that

_here_ applied to the Lammergeyer; its proper recipient, the Golden

Eagle (a pair of which were nesting in a crag not far off) being known

as "aguila negra."

Vultures, it may be mentioned, were chiefly remarkable by their absence

in these mountains--one only saw a solitary Griffon at long intervals,

and in that barren rocky-mountain region (afterwards mentioned), in

which we found the Lammergeyer most numerous, vultures were seldom seen.

Yet _Buiteras_, "Griffonries," so to speak, existed at certain

intervals, say, six or eight leagues apart, throughout the whole of

those sierras.

This pair of Lammergeyers, which we enjoyed watching during some days,

soon disclosed to us both the position of their present abode and also

that of a former year, entering the latter crag almost as often as the

then tenanted nursery.

Perched, as we were, a thousand feet above, it was a glorious

ornithological spectacle to watch these grand birds sailing to and fro

unsuspicious and unconscious of our presence, their lavender backs and

outstretched pinions gleaming like silver in the sunshine. Slowly they

would glide down the gorge till lost to sight around an angle; returning

half an hour later, and passing beneath our post, would circle for a

minute or two round the rock-stack. Not a motion of those rigid pinions

till close to the mouth of the eyrie, then the great wings closed, and

the bird disappeared within its cave.

Both eyries were situate in similar positions--in abrupt stacks of rock

which protruded from the rugged mountain slope, but _both_ quite _low_

down, almost at the bottom of the 3,000-foot gorge across which the two

nests faced each other. The Lammergeyer, we have now ascertained, does

_not_ breed, as we had expected, in those more stupendous precipices

beloved of _Aquila bonelli_, and whose height dwarfs even an eagle to

the similitude of the homely kestrel; but rather, either in rock-stacks

such as those (often not 100 feet high) which flank the lower

_gargantas_, or corries of the sierra, or in those generally loftier

crags which often belt the base of each individual mountain.

The actual site of the nest is a small cave--rather than a crevice--and

a huge mass of material, the accumulation of years, usually covers the

whole floor. In one case, not less than a cart-load of sticks, branches,

and twigs of cistus and heath had been collected, covering a circular

space some six feet in diameter by two in depth. The present nest was

hardly so large, and was completed with dead vine-branches, the prunings

of the previous autumn;--and contained, besides an old _alparagata_, or

hempen sandal, several cows' hoofs, and the dried leg and foot of a

wild-goat. There was, however, no carrion about, nor any very offensive

smell, such as would have characterized the home of a vulture.

To an outsider, the feat of scaling even a 100-foot crag, when fairly

sheer, seems no easy undertaking; but our two mountain-bred lads made

light work of it, one escalading the Lammergeyer's fortress from below,

the other from above (which proved the easier way), and actually meeting

in the eyrie. Some goatherds, hearing of our wish to secure a

"quebranta-huesos," had removed the single young bird an hour or two

previously. This grotesque and most uncouth fledgeling was then (at end

of March) about the size of a turkey, covered with grey-white down, and

with beak and crop so disproportionately heavy that a recumbent position

appeared almost a necessity. The youngster kept up a constant querulous

whistle when visited, and consumed, we were told, four pounds of meat

daily. A month later the feathers were beginning to show through the

down, and the daily consumption of meat had doubled.

In a remote region of the Sierra Nevada, during the spring of 1891, the

writer visited several eyries of the Lammergeyer--each nest, in

construction and situation, resembling those already described, but the

season (April) was too late to secure eggs, this species breeding very

early--in January. The young--usually only one, though two eggs are

often laid--at this season were about one-third feathered. These nests

were in the midst of a peculiarly barren and rocky district of the great

Eastern Sierras, the precise locality of which it may be as well to

leave unwritten. Two of the eyries were in low belts of protruding rock

which broke the steep slope of the sierra, a third in a detached crag

about 150 feet in height. The latter, however, was easily accessible (by

rope) from above. The Lammergeyer, when breeding, is less cautious than

eagle or vulture, sitting close, even while preparations for an assault

on its stronghold are being made close at hand.

The adults measure from 8 feet 6 inches to 9 feet in expanse of wing,

and the wedge-shaped white head with its bristly beard and scarlet

eyelids, its cat-like irides, and the black bands that pass through the

eye, give the bird a peculiarly ferocious aspect. When on the wing, as

Prince Rudolph remarks, these features, together with the long rigid

wings, cuneate tail, and the mixture of hoary grey, black, and bright

yellow in its plumage, distinguish the Gypaëtus at a glance from any

other living creature, and lend it a strange, almost a dragon-like

appearance.

Its claws, though less acutely hooked than those of the eagle, are sharp

and powerful weapons--quite different to the worn and blunted claws of

vultures, though the central toe in _both_ is much longer than the two

outside ones.

The industry of the peasantry of these wild regions of Nevada deserves a

passing remark. As high as rye or other crops will grow, almost every

foot of available ground is brought under cultivation. Precipitous,

stony slopes are terraced with a perseverance that rivals, though on a

smaller scale, the vineyards of Alto Douro, elsewhere described.

Scanning the heights with a field-glass, one descries a man working on

some jutting point or tiny patch of tillage so steep that a stone would

hardly lie. All these folk, towards nightfall, betake themselves to the

quaint but unsavoury hamlets that hang on some ridge of the sierra--and

not the human folk only, but the pigs, the goats, and the donkeys

forbye--each beast making straight for its own abode. Along each

rock-paved street at dusk they come at a run, looking neither to right

nor left till each beast bolts, without ceremony, into its own abode.

Some five-and-twenty of the larger "domestic" animals (I take no count

of dogs, hens, or the like) shared with me and sundry natives our scanty

lodgment, whence at earliest dawn the braying of asses, cock-crowing,

and porcine squalls, drove us betimes of a morning.

[Illustration: OUR QUARTERS AT QUENTAR DEL RIO.]

In one hill-village, there being no _posada_, we put up in the outhouse

of a mill: but, amidst sacks of grain and malodorous mules, we passed a

lively evening, for one by one the serranos dropped in to chat with the

"Ingléses"; the wine-skin was replenished, and Manuel struck up some

snatches of "Don Rodrigo de Bivar" and songs of the ancient chivalry.

Maiden figures soon flitted in the darkness outside, and coyly accepting

an invitation to enter, our barn resounded with the music of castanet

and guitar, while lissom forms and light fandango graced its erewhiles

unlovely floor.

Next morning our guide, Manolo Osorio Garcia, was drunk--a most unusual

thing in Spain! We left him to sleep off his _borachera_, and were glad

to get rid of him, for--again, most unusual--he was constantly pestering

not only for wine, but for boots, gunpowder, and other things--requests

that, when luggage is reduced to a minimum, cannot be conveniently

complied with.

Despite their industry there is, nevertheless, woful poverty amid the

peasants of Nevada. Whole tribes live in caves and excavations in the

mountain-sides--filthy holes, shared, of course, by the beasts, and

devoid of the remotest approach to comfort or decency. Even in the

larger villages the ordinary sanitary precautions are utterly neglected,

disease is frequent, and death sweeps in broad swathes. Early one

morning Manuel came in to tell us that in the hamlet, at which we had

arrived the previous night, "the people were dying by dozens each day of

small-pox, that ten children had already succumbed that morning, and

that he was very ill himself." We accordingly left at once, meeting in

the pass above the village a drove of several hundred black pigs. Our

horses planted their feet firmly on the rocks, and for some minutes we

stood encompassed in a torrent of swine, which raced and jostled beneath

us.

In Spain the Gypaëtus is yearly decreasing in numbers. A decade ago they

were fairly numerous in the vast area of rock mountains which stretches

between Granada and Jaen. To-day a week may be spent in that district

without so much as even a distant view of this grand bird. The reason is

unquestionably the use of poison (_veneno_), which is laid out broadcast

by the goatherds for the special benefit of wolves, but which is equally

fatal to the Lammergeyer.

Wolves, by the way, during the severe winter of 1890-1, were

particularly numerous and destructive in the Sierra Nevada, descending

to lower levels than usual, demolishing whole flocks, and even attacking

human beings when found alone. In one instance all that could be found

of a poor goatherd, who had been missing for some weeks, was his boots!

This brings us again to the question of the habits of the Gypaëtus, and

especially of its food. Some naturalists seem inclined to hold that the

bird is only a _vulture_, subsisting on carrion, and fearing to attack

any living prey. The goatherds of Nevada, however (rightly or wrongly),

do not share this view. One kindly old hill-farmer, at whose lonely

cottage we spent a couple of nights, assured us that the "quebrantones,"

as he called them, were as destructive to his new-born kids in

spring-time as the wolves themselves, and added that he laid out the

_veneno_ in special spots for each of his enemies. Only three days

before, he asserted with vehement emphasis, he had witnessed a

Lammergeyer strike down a week-old kid, its mate meanwhile driving off

the dam. So intent was the bird on demolishing its victim that the

farmer approached within a few yards and threw his stick at it as it

rose. The kid, however, was dead. He insisted that the robber was no

Golden Eagle (which he knew well), but "_de los Barbudos

malditos!_"--one of those accursed bearded fellows!

Again, on a single _majada_, or goat-breeding establishment, in

Estremadura, we were told that forty odd kids had been killed that

spring by one pair of Lammergeyers before the enraged tenant was able to

shoot them. We saw one of the birds--a superb adult Gypaëtus.

Here also is the evidence of the veteran _cazador_, Manuel de la Torre,

a man of keen observation and intelligence, and the best

field-naturalist we have met in Spain: "The Lammergeyer seeks far and

wide for prey, preferring bones to anything else, but also eating

carrion on necessity; and in spring, when it has young, kills many young

sheep and goats, both wild and tame. I have seen it take snakes and

other reptiles, and the largest and finest I ever shot (now in Madrid

Museum) was in the act of eating a rabbit I had just seen it kill. This

was in the Pardo. A dead hare or rabbit is the best bait to attract the

Gypaëtus to the gun; it regularly hunts both. The Neophron I have never

seen take any living thing; it only eats carrion, garbage, and offal,

but I have found dead snakes in its nests. The Gypaëtus, like the

vultures and some eagles, feed their young for some months on

half-digested food, disgorged from their own crops." This is the

evidence of one who has seen more of the Lammergeyer than any other

living naturalist, and it is for this reason that, contrary to our

practice, we have accepted what may be called hearsay evidence.

It is for these reasons that we have retained the distinctive title of

Lammergeyer, now generally discarded in favour--on mistaken grounds, we

think--of the name of "Bearded Vulture." Independently of the fact that

our subject is no more a vulture than it is an eagle, surely a

distinctive name is preferable to further iteration of the wearisome

monotony--ay, poverty--of ornithological nomenclature. Have we not run

to death those compound epithets, "long-legged," "black-tailed,"

"white-shouldered," and the like? Even on the assumption--not proven in

this case--that the word conveys an inference not strictly accurate,

there are precedents for its retention, _e.g._, Caprimulgus, Goatsucker,

Nycticorax, Bernicla, the Bernacle Goose, Oyster-catcher, and many more.

We hesitate to accept such substitutes as Tures and Bearded Vulture for

the time-honoured designations of Ibex and Lammergeyer.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXVII.

RAMON AND THE TWO BIG RAMS.

AN INCIDENT OF IBEX-STALKING.

For more than an hour we had been lying expectant, Ramon and I. Our

position was in a tumble of rocks, which commanded the approach to a

pass--a little _portillo_, the only one by which the beetling crags

above were surmountable, even to an ibex. The pass was a narrow cleft or

fissure, traversing transversely the whole height of the crags, whose

sheer dolomite precipices otherwise presented an utterly unscaleable

face. Our post was a favourable one, hence it was with a tinge of

disappointment that we observed the appearance of one of our drivers on

the heights of the opposite sky-line.

Ramon lay just in front of me on the narrow shelving ledge, his head

considerably lower than his feet, his lithe body entwined around a

projecting rock-buttress, while his keen eye surveyed everything that

moved in the panorama of wild rock-chaos beneath. During these hours of

meditation I began more clearly to understand one, at least, of the

_raisons d'être_ for that remarkable acuteness of smell which is

attributed to the ibex. The ibex-hunters invariably assured us that the

goats relied more on their sense of smell than on that of sight--"they

have more nose than eyes--_mas nariz que ojos_," in Spanish phrase.

This, I now realized, was not, after all, so inexplicable, for the

skin-clad hunter before me was decidedly aromatic. It became easy of

comprehension that his presence might be more readily perceptible to the

nose than to the eyes; for, while Ramon's serpentine form, curving round

a rock-angle, and appearing to fit into its sinuosities, was all but

invisible, his whereabouts, even to human olfactory organs, might

probably be detected at a considerable distance. No wonder the native

hunter is careful to keep always under the lee of the breeze.

"Do you see where Guarro is now?" presently remarked Ramon, "crossing

the ridge below the glacier-foot." After scanning for some minutes every

inch of the spot indicated with a strong field-glass, I made out at

length a minute moving dot that might be our friend Guarro y Guarro, the

ruddy-faced goatherd, who was in charge of the _batida_.[61] "Well, that

is where I shot the first of the two big _machos_ on Thursday--the other

on these broken pinnacles lower down on the right." To kill two

first-rate males, single-handed, in a day was no small feat, and Ramon's

tale of the achievement was an interesting sporting episode.

"I was attending my goats," he said, "in the Arroyo del Cerradillo, the

ravine above where we shot the small _macho_ yesterday; and as I came

within sight of the high crags at its summit, I crept carefully forward,

'speering' round the rocks to see if any ibex chanced to be in them.

They are a favourite haunt of the goats during the day, and as there are

some large males on that side, it is always worth while to be prepared

and cautious. That morning there were two--both large ibex, with very

long horns, as long as a man's arms. They were at first walking away,

but soon lay down on a ledge where it was possible to crawl to within

fifty or sixty yards of them. Unfortunately, part of the stalk was

through soft snow, and, in consequence, the gun missed fire."

Ramon's gun, by the way, was an exceptionally rickety old weapon, with

many signs of rude repairs, and bore on its single barrel, counter-sunk

in golden letters, the inscription "Plasencia, 1841." No doubt it owed

the Imperial exchequer of Spain something like fifty pounds sterling in

respect of license duty during half a century, not one centime of which

is ever likely to find its way into the Spanish Treasury.

Poor Ramon, though well provided with powder and ball, had but two caps;

hence it was necessary, after the misfire, to draw the faithless charge

in order to save intact the two precious _mitos_. "Meanwhile," continued

Ramon, "the two ibex had moved up the rocks, and soon crossed the

sky-line just above those snow-gullies. They did not appear much

alarmed, never having seen me; so I followed round the shoulder of the

main spur, as the goats had gone downwind. In the afternoon I came up

with them, just where I showed you. There were now four of them--all big

males, and as the two nearer were lying down in a favourable position, I

got a good shot, killing the largest quite dead, with a bullet through

chest and heart.

"The other three, still uncertain whence the shot had come, owing to the

echo reverberating among the hills, hesitated a few moments, and then

sprang downwards, one passing so near that, had I had another gun, I

might perhaps have killed him. My dog, which had followed me, and which

was well accustomed to herding my own goats, now gave chase. I knew the

ibex could not pass the ice-slope of Cerradillo [two miles away], and in

the hope that I might cut off their retreat by the Garganta del Canchon,

I set off, after reloading, to cross the two ravines." (This, by the

way, would have taken an average Englishman at least an hour's difficult

and laborious climbing.) "I reached those steeple-rocks on the second

ridge just in the nick of time to meet the three ibex ascending on the

other side. The dog was nowhere in sight, though he was still following.

I had not gained the pass two minutes when the ibex crossed in front,

travelling slowly over a patch of snow, where I shot the largest of the

three at about eighty paces distant. He fell to the shot, floundering

for some seconds in the loose snow, but recovered and went on some

distance, till the dog at last came up with him and pulled him down."

On surveying the field of operations carefully through the binoculars,

and estimating the distances traversed respectively by Ramon and his

three opponents, we could only marvel at the wondrous feat he had

performed in crossing that fearful gorge, with its miles of snow and

rocks, in time to cut out the hunted and light-footed ibex. The latter,

it is true, had something like four times the distance to cover, but

even that, one would have thought, was far too light a handicap.

[Illustration]

These two ibex were both eight-year old males, and their horns measured,

respectively:--

No. 1.--Length, 28-1/2 inches. Circumference, 9-1/4 inches.

No. 2.-- " 27-1/2 " " 9 "

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE IBEX-HUNTER'S BETROTHAL.

Bernál Gonzalvo was the smartest of all the shepherd-lads in the

mountain village of Valdama, and universally acknowledged as the best

shot and most successful ibex-hunter in that part of the sierra. But in

his wanderings near the clouds, his thoughts of late had often strayed

from his flock: other music than the tinkling of their many bells was

sweeter to his ear. His thoughts would carry him a thousand times a day

to the hamlet which nestled far below. In short, Bernál was in love; for

the first time in his simple life of three-and-twenty years his spirit

was made captive by a daughter of Eve. Concha, the pretty brunette of

the _parador_, had heard the old, old story from his lips, and he had

found favour in her eyes. Concha's good luck made her the envy of all

the girls of the hamlet. For not only was Bernál a handsome lad of the

sprightly, graceful type peculiar to the mountain region, but he was

also rich--he owned over two hundred goats, and had inherited a

two-roomed _choza_ and an acre of trailing vines.

Engagements in these primitive nooks of the world are not of long

duration. The following week it was arranged his betrothal should be

announced, and the _dichos_ declared--the custom of avowing publicly the

mutual acceptance of nuptial obligations, which in Spain corresponds

with our "calling the banns." On such occasions it is customary in

Valdama for the bridegroom-elect to provide a feast whereat the friends

of the _fiancés_ assemble after this preliminary ceremony. The marriage

itself does not take place till some days later. After the _dichos_ the

rest of that day is spent in conviviality.

Bernál owned plenty of goats, but, being a lad of some originality, he

determined to give _his_ "novia" something different to the regulation

marriage-feast of stewed kid. Concha's nuptials should mark an epoch in

the annals of Valdama--nothing less than the venison of a wild ibex

should betoken his plighted troth. He was a mighty hunter, and Concha's

first offering at his hands should be one appropriate to his fame and

skill with the rifle-ball.

The season was mid-winter and the snow lay deep and treacherous on all

the great sierras that overhang his native village. Few are venturesome

enough to brave the dangers and hard work that the pursuit of ibex in

winter must entail. All the more reason why Bernál should distinguish

himself, and all the more acceptable the gift.

On the morning before the ceremony of the _dichos_, he set out at

daybreak; his gun slung on his shoulder, a crust of brown bread, some

meat and olives in his "alforjas," and his favourite dog "Vasco" at his

heel. As the earlier risers among the damsels of the hamlet wended their

way towards the well for the day's supply of water, each with a big

brown _cantaro_ poised on her head, they lingered to scan the hill and

watch Bernál's retreating figure as he leaped upwards from rock to rock,

ascending towards the snowy pinnacles of Las Lanzas. Soon he disappeared

from view, turning off into the snow-filled gullet of the _Salto del

lobo_--the wolfs leap.

The day was bright and glorious as a winter's day in Spain can be, but

before dusk heavy cloud-banks had darkened the western horizon, and the

sun sank in lurid light amidst gathering murk that boded ill for the

night. Darkness had set in, but Bernál had not returned. Hour after hour

passed by without sign of him, and Concha's anxiety grew more and more

intense. Not all the sympathy of her maiden friends could cheer her; but

some consolation the poor girl tried to find in the assurances of the

rough hunters who came to comfort her--Bernál, they asserted, was safe

enough; he had been caught in those scudding snow-clouds, and, as many a

belated herdsman had done before, had sought shelter for the night in

some cave or crevice, awaiting the return of daylight before attempting

the descent. Had he, as was probable, succeeded in shooting an ibex, it

was natural that with such a burden he would find himself unable to

return in the short winter's day. With these and similar assurances poor

Concha was fain to console herself.

Before midnight the threatened storm burst: the gale howled through the

gorges of the sierra and along the narrow street of Valdama. Thickly,

too, fell the snow; before dawn the whole landscape lay enveloped in the

white mantle, and the bye-ways of the hamlet were choked to the lintels.

Snow-wreaths hung in majestic forms over each prominent escarpment,

threatening destruction to the villagers' stock of olives, figs, and

vines which grew beneath. The older men gathered in knots discussing

Bernál's chances of escape from the higher regions; no help was

possible, and the general opinion was that till the gale had partially

swept the dry powdery snow into the ravines and hollows, his descent

would be perilous, even if possible. Again the day passed by without

sign of the missing bridegroom. The _dichos_ were postponed, and the

hamlet slept with a heavy load of doubt and fear oppressing its mind.

Thus passed two days--three since the adventurous hunter had set forth,

but on the fourth morning it was thought an ascent might be attempted.

Three search parties, each composed of three mountaineers, started in

different directions, but at nightfall they returned without news or

trace of lost Bernál.

Next morning the search was renewed. Towards noon the party, led by our

friend Claudio, descried among the bare rocks of a ridge high above them

a moving object. Their cries and shots attracted attention, and

presently poor Vasco, Bernál's faithful companion, struggled to reach

them. The three men decided to continue calling out Bernál's name, in

order to convey to the dog the idea that they were in search of his

master; but this the wise beast seemed to have intuitively understood,

for he immediately set out in the direction whence he had come. Claudio

and his two companions followed Vasco's lead for nearly a league, when

the dog stopped and commenced scratching away the snow from below a

projecting rock. Here were found the "alforjas" (wallet) of the lost

man, still containing the bread and olives with which he had set out.

Vasco at once continued his course, leading the way to one of the

deepest and most magnificent _cañons_ of the whole sierra. Here, on the

very verge of a precipice of a thousand feet sheer, the dog directed the

rescuers to his master's gun, which lay buried in the snow within a foot

of the abyss. The gun was _cocked_--a sure sign to the _serranos_ that

at the moment of leaving it Bernál had been in presence of game,

momentarily expecting a shot. Further the dog would not, or could not,

go; yet no sign of Bernál could be seen on the crag-top. Clearly he must

have slipped, fallen over into the tremendous abyss beneath. The men

separated, two going to right and left to seek some spot, some cleft or

ledge, by which the crag might be descended, the third remaining above

to guide the search. It was a perilous service on those slippery,

ice-clad rocks. After an hour's labour, Claudio managed to reach a ledge

midway down the precipice, just beneath the spot where Guàrro remained

on the height above: and here the dog (which had steadily followed the

climber whose course at the moment led in the right direction) at once

indicated a point above some big boulders which lay balanced on the

narrow shelf. Here, beneath the frozen snow, lay poor Bernál Gonzalvo,

almost every bone in his once shapely form smashed into splinters by

that terrible fall of 500 feet. And there, on that dizzy ledge, his

remains lie still. There they had to be left; for it was found

impossible to remove the body, or to carry it along the ledges and

"chimneys" by which the rescue party had descended. It was, after all,

an appropriate resting-place for the luckless ibex-hunter. The three men

heaped up a pile of stones to protect his remains from the maw of

vulture or prowling wolf, and there we may leave him in peace.

Perhaps it would be wiser to leave the story, too, at this point; but we

are simply historians without aspiration for the novelist's _rôle_, and

are impelled to complete faithfully this sad little story of the sierra.

Concha was, of course, almost beside herself with grief. During the long

winter months, while the snow whirled round the ravines of Valdama, the

poor girl remained inconsolable. But time is a wondrous restorer. When

spring came round, and the vines and chestnuts unfolded their shoots,

making Valdama all green and beautiful, then youth and buoyant spirits

reasserted their power, and, less than a twelve-month afterwards, Concha

had found consolation. Friend Claudio, the discoverer of her lost

lover's remains, and to whom we are indebted for this little tale, had

meanwhile become her husband.

[Illustration: Plate XXXVI.

GATEWAY AND VINEYARD.

Page 325.]

CHAPTER XXIX.

ON VITICULTURE IN SPAIN AND PORTUGAL

It is a pleasant contrast in the blazing month of July, when one passes

from the parched stubbles of the corn-land, or the arid half-shade of

the _olivar_, and enters upon the green luxuriance of the vineyard. Eye

and mind are refreshed by that broad expanse of spreading vines clothing

hill and valley with their close-set trailing verdure.

Before us stands the somewhat pretentious gateway in the fence of

prickly-pear which surrounds the property--a handsome wrought-iron

lattice gate swung on stone pillars which bear the inscription "Nuestra

Señora de Piedad,--de Caridad," "Cruz Santa," or some such title.

Passing through, one walks waist-deep along a narrow pathway amidst

green vines. No need to ask which is Nature's most favoured plant in

this sunny land. Stand on one of the Jerez hills at this season and look

across the districts of the Marcharnudo or Carrascal and see the triumph

of the vine. All other vegetation pants beneath the pitiless sun; tree,

shrub, and bush droop withered and lifeless; the grass and wild-flowers

have disappeared from off the face of the calcined earth, not a blossom

remains; the bees have lost their employment, and already their

persecutors, the Bee-eaters, are departing for less torrid regions. Yet

all around lie thousands of acres of vines in the full exuberance of

life and vigour, drinking in growth and increase from the very rays that

are fatal to all beside. Vine roots reach down very great depths into

the earth--often twenty feet and more, the tap-roots threading their way

through the slightest cracks or cleavages of what _appears_ solid rock,

thickening out again as they reach a wider fissure of "fatter" soil, as

may be seen in road or railway-cuttings.

Nothing can be a greater contrast than the appearance of the vines at

Christmas or in January when not even a branch survives, each vine then

being cut back, till nothing remains but a gnarled, knobby stump some

two feet high, limbless and lifeless. The vineyards then assume a barren

hungry look, a grey expanse studded with rows of the inanimate stocks.

During early spring much care and labour are devoted to the vineyards.

The soil around each vine is drawn back with hoes and small adze-shaped

spades, the blades of which are turned inwards, till the plant stands in

the centre of a hollowed square, the heaped-up earth around serving to

catch and direct the moisture towards its roots. For a time the

vineyards resemble huge chess-boards, till in April the spreading

tendrils and bright green leaves once more hide the face of the earth

from view.

[Illustration: VINES IN MARCH.]

The workmen who are employed upon these operations have assigned to

them a large barn-like room on the ground-floor of the _casa de viñas_,

destitute of any semblance of furniture or fittings. In this they cook

their _pucheros_, smoke infinite cigarettes, and when times are

peaceful, wind up the day with a few touches on the guitar and weird

Andalucian melodies; but during the troublous periods of anarchy and

discontent so frequent in unhappy Spain, politics supplant music and

fierce discussions rage far into the night. Well do we remember the

violence of these disputes during the _mano negra_ fever, and earlier,

in the spring of 1872, when living at a vineyard with only a floor

between us and the peasant politicians. Amidst the babel of contending

voices one heard perpetually bandied about the names of Zorilla,

Castelar, Sagasta, and others of the _haute politique_ of Spain. The lot

of the Spanish labourer is none of the happiest, certainly; but it may

be doubted if they will mend it by argument and wordy warfare any more

than by force. Poor fellows! they are the raw material which the

high-falutin' scoundrels who promote rebellions by popular "cries" and

_pronunciamentos_ use for their own ends, and then abandon to the

bullets of _guardas civiles_ or the sabres of the cavalry. But, good

times or bad, the guitar or the revolutionary rag--whichever it may

be--are at length laid aside, they stretch themselves in rows on their

grass-woven mats, like sardines in a keg, and in sleep the troubled

spirits are at rest.

The vineyards, some of which (especially those in the Cañaleja,

Badalejo, and Caulina districts) have pedigrees that can be traced back

for upwards of six hundred years, are mostly interspersed with fields of

corn and groves of olive-trees, and intersected by sandy roads bordered

with hedges of cane and cactus. Occasional avenues lead to picturesque

villas embowered in flowering shrubs and trees, among which the adelfa,

or rose-laurel, the acacia, eucalyptus and cypress are conspicuous. The

hill-tops are generally crowned with snow-white _casas de viñas_, and

among the vines there rise little huts of esparto called _bien-te-veos_,

perched on four tall aloe-poles. These are the look-outs for the guards

who, armed with old-fashioned fire-locks, keep watch and ward over the

ripening grapes and grain.

The scene around Jerez at vintage time is a busy and picturesque

one--the narrow sandy lanes alive with gaudily-trapped mules bearing

panniers of grapes to the wine-presses, and creaking bullock-carts

conveying newly-pressed "must" to the Jerez bodegas. The vineyards

themselves are thronged with vintagers--all of the male sex, for in

Andalucia woman's right to take any part is altogether ignored.

The vintagers work in gangs of ten, each under the direction of a

_capatáz_, dexterously lopping off the bunches of grapes with their

ever-ready _navajas_, or bowie knives. The bunches are thrown into

"tinetas," square wooden boxes, each holding some twenty-five pounds of

grapes. As these are filled the men hoist them on their heads and march

off to the _almijar_ or court adjoining the presshouse. Here, after all

blighted and decayed grapes are removed, they are then spread out to dry

in the sun, and remain thus exposed for from one to three days, when

they are ready for the press.

The long wooden troughs, or _lagares_, having been partially filled with

grapes, a couple of swarthy bare-legged fellows in striped shirts, and

leathern shoes studded with broad-headed nails, jump into each _lagar_

and, after spreading out the bunches, commence footing it ankle-deep

among the crushed fruit, while the juice pours forth through spouts into

casks placed to receive it. The men dance with a rapid swaying movement

which is held to express the juice from the grapes in a more

satisfactory manner than can be accomplished by any known mechanical

appliance.

[Illustration: Plate XXXVII.

IN A JEREZ BODEGA.

Page 328.]

After being trodden, the grapes are finally subjected to the action of a

screw, which is fixed over the centre of each _lagar_. The pile of

half-crushed fruit is enclosed in a band of esparto-matting, and the

handles of the screw being turned, a wooden slab descends, and the

remaining juice pours forth through the interstices of the esparto, and

is collected in the butts beneath. These casks, as filled, are

hoisted upon bullock-carts, and sent jolting away to the Jerez bodegas.

The _vindimia_, or vintage, is always an animated scene, whether on the

gently undulating vine lands of Andalucia, or in Portugal, on the steep

terraced slopes of the mountains which shut in the wild Alto Douro. Afar

across those Lusitanian glens resound the musical chant and

characteristic sing-song ditties of the Gallegan peasantry--like

_cicadas_, they sing and answer each other from hill to hill the

livelong day, the happy, despised, bond-slaves of the Peninsula, who, at

vintage-time, flock from their rude barren province of Galicia to revel

in abundance in the Alto Douro on a couple of testoons, say, tenpence a

day, supplemented by an allowance of oil, a few salted sardines, rice,

and stock-fish, and of _broa_, or maize-bread, and the accommodation of

mother-earth to sleep upon, with a roof overhead through which the

star-light and the silvery rays of the harvest moon gleam in at a

hundred chinks and crevices. A happy lot, these Gallegans, happy in the

possession of content, happier far than their more impulsive brethren,

the socialistic peasants of Andalucia, of whom we have just spoken.

PORTUGAL.--THE VINTAGE IN THE ALTO DOURO.

Fain would we pause here for a few moments among those rugged hills of

the Douro, amidst which, long ago, we first witnessed the spectacle of

_vindimia_--a sight which has left a deep and pleasing impression.

Everywhere on the terraced slopes are scattered groups of vintagers,

whose not unmusical voices fill the still air. Heavy bullock-carts go

creaking discordantly up and down the dry boulder-strewn gullies which

serve as roads; droves of nimble little donkeys, with pig-skins full of

wine strapped across their backs, or bringing bread for the people

employed in the vineyards, wend their way along zig-zag bridle-paths;

farmers with wine-samples and pedlars with their packs on mules,

equipped with jingling bells, jog leisurely along the mountain roads;

groups of buxom women, with bright-coloured kerchiefs tied over unkempt

tresses, and bare brown legs, dexterously detach the bunches and fill

them into baskets, the men meanwhile lazily smoking under the shade of

some olive-tree till their burdens are ready. Along the mountain-paths

file strings of sturdy Gallegans,[62] each bearing upon his shoulders a

huge basket (_jigo_), crammed with grapes. The _jigo_ weighs nearly a

hundredweight, and the shoulders of the bearer are protected by a woolly

sheep-skin. These burdens they bear to the _lagares_, where, when the

great stone trough is filled, a gang of men step in and commence a sort

of devil's dance, treading out the rich juice, which, after many hours'

fermentation, pours in purple streams to the _tonels_ below.

Within the sombre shade of the _lagares_ that strange dance proceeds, at

first briskly, amid laughter and song, to the squeaking notes of fiddle

and guitar, the rattle of drum, and the chaff of the women who gather

round the open verandas; but as the hours roll by and the air grows

heavy with the exhalations of fermenting "must," the work begins to

tell, and the treaders, all bespattered with purple juice, move slowly

and listlessly. In vain the fiddle strikes up anew, the fife squeaks,

the guitar tinkles, and overseers upbraid. After some eighteen hours of

this tread-mill exercise in an atmosphere charged with soporific

influences, music has lost its charm, and authority its terror. The men,

by this time almost dead-beat, languidly raise first one purple leg and

then the other, working on far into the watches of the night. Thus has

wine been made since before Homeric times.

The wine district of the Alto Douro, whence comes our port wine, is a

singular region, extending some thirty miles along either bank of the

river, but chiefly on the north side, in the province of Traz-os-Montes,

and having a varying width of five to ten miles. The whole _paiz

vinhateiro_ consists of grey and arid-looking mountain-sides, divided by

deep gullies and ravines, and all so steep that their soil of friable

mica-schist, more like bits of broken slate than fertile earth, can only

be cultivated by means of terraces roughly built up, tier above tier.

Mountain after mountain has its sides thus scored with terraced lines

like Cyclopean staircases, and on particular slopes as many as 150 may

be counted rising one above another, the effect of which is most

peculiar. Here and there a gleaming white _casa_, with its grove of

orange and cypress-trees; or a water-mill, shaded by oaks and chestnuts,

breaks the monotony of the landscape. Below, the yellow Douro courses

swiftly, bearing picturesque boats, high-prowed and long-hulled,

impelled by a white cloud of sail, and steered by a huge oar worked from

a pivot in the stern-post, while far above the zone of vineyards rise

mountain peaks in jagged outline.

Grapes are growing by the wayside, hanging from every crag or tree to

which a vine can attach its tendrils, and, perhaps most picturesque of

all, from the _ramadas_ or trellises. These _ramadas_ roof in the

courtyard of cottage or farm, and even span the village street. As one

rides through the hamlets which nestle in the valleys of the Douro, the

heavy purple clusters, six or eight pounds in weight, hang temptingly

just overhead--temptingly to the stranger to raise his parched lips and

snatch a mouthful of the juicy spheres. Partridges, too, appreciate the

luxury of a grape-feast, and in the evening, at this season (September

and October), their call-note is ubiquitous. But it is terrible work to

follow them amidst the tangled vines and crumbling terraces under the

fierce afternoon sun; and a better chance of sport will be found at

mid-day on the heather-clad ridges above. Thither, after their morning

feed, they retire to enjoy a siesta, and with the aid of a good dog

will afford excellent sport till towards 4 P.M., when they return to the

lower grounds. There is a cooler breeze on these heights, and a superb

panorama of the wildest region of Lusitania, bounded by the Serras do

Gerez and Marão and the highlands of Traz-os-Montes. There handsome

Swallowtails (_Papilio machæon_) curvette around on powerful wing, and

among the shaggy heather, rocks, and rough straggling woods, one may

chance upon a slumbering wolf, the _bête noir_ in the winter of the

Douro goatherd; though nothing ever fell in the writer's way more

formidable than a black fox, for the destruction of which was awarded

the premium fixed by law--300 reis, fifteen pence! It is a land of

insects, from the singular mantis and merry grasshoppers of many hues,

to the scorpion, and centipedes of enormous size. As evening falls the

air rings--the earth seems to vibrate--with the rattle of mole-crickets

and cicadas, and the gentle tinkle of the tree-frog: glowworms sparkle

on each dark slope, and by the feeble light of fire-flies we have to

pick a devious way along miles of broken rock and hanging thicket, by

what in Portugal passes for a bridle-path.

Twenty years ago the Alto Douro could only be reached on horseback,

crossing the Serra do Marão by the Pass of Quintella. A pleasant ride it

was, nevertheless, in September, by Cazaes, traversing the valley of the

Tamega to Amarante, famed for its peaches and "vinho verde" (green wine,

so rough as to bring tears to one's eyes); thence up the slopes of the

Marão, and through the granite defiles of Quintella, which look down

upon Pezo da Regoa and the valley of the Corgo. It was here--in the

_Baixo Corgo_--that the port wines of three generations ago were

vintaged; now all the most valued growths come from further east, beyond

the Corgo (Cima Corgo).

The return journey in those days (now there is a railway) was by boat,

down the Douro, seventy miles, which was accomplished in one long day.

Hour after hour we glide down the rapid current, through green

vineyards, all resonant with the long-drawn songs of the vintagers. Now

the cliffs close in, and we pass through a gorge, whose sides rise a

thousand feet sheer from the water, overgrown with masses of broom,

heath, gorse, and a variety of evergreen shrubs wherever a ledge or

cranny afford hold for their roots. Gigantic aloes with broad spiked

blades and towering stalks stud the rocky declivities, and the cactus,

wild fig, and other sub-tropical forms of plant-life lend character to

the scenery. Amidst these crags a pair or two of the handsome black and

white Neophrons may generally be seen.

Dangerous during times of flood are the snag-set rapids of the Douro, as

many a little cross or inscription, cut on the impending rocks, bears

witness. That rude mark indicates the spot where some poor fellow has

lost his life, perhaps a whole boat's crew; and our men, as we pass each

memorial tablet, remove their hats and cross themselves with simple

piety.

At intervals we pass picturesque cargo-boats, upward bound, and

laboriously making their way against the current, motive power being

supplied by a gang of watermen hauling on a tow-rope ashore. Where the

path becomes precipitous, one sees the string of bare-legged men

walking, as it were, down perpendicular rock faces like flies on a wall,

each hanging on by the sustaining rope. As already mentioned, there is

now-a-days a railway to the Upper Douro, and much of the picturesque

river life of twenty years ago is a thing of the past.

SPAIN.--THE VINTAGE IN ANDALUCIA--(CONTINUED).

But we have wandered far from our original subject, and must now leave

Portugal, and return to the Andalucian vintage. We are not going to

enter into the technical details of wine manufacture, which have been

fully described in special treatises; suffice it here to say that from

the wine-press, the _must_ (or juice) is run direct into casks placed

beneath, and in which, almost as soon as made, the process of

fermentation begins. In this state the young wines are removed on

bullock-carts to the bodegas of Jerez, or San Lucar, and there remain

till January, when fermentation is complete; the wine is then placed in

clean casks, and so left to mature. The contents of each cask, however,

are kept distinct and separate--that is the wine-juice that ran from the

_lagar_ into one cask is not mixed or blended with another.

And now follows one of the most curious circumstances known in

oenology. The wines thus made--the uniform produce, be it repeated, of

a single vineyard, gathered the same day, pressed in the same _lagar_,

and subjected to identical treatment--develope wholly different

characters and qualities. Some of the casks prove to be wines of the

highest grade and value; others indifferent, some coarse, and some even

vinegar. Then amongst those casks which have developed into the wines

styled in Jerez _finos_ (_i.e._, soft, dry, and delicate, with a fresh,

pungent flavour), there is found here and there one which has acquired

the rare and highly valued _amontillado_ character.

This singular inequality in development appears to be merely a matter of

chance--of caprice in fermentation; and is quite inexplicable and

uncontrolled by any known laws or causes. Some years ago an attempt was

made to bring the light of modern science to bear on the old

rule-of-thumb methods of "rearing" sherry. An English scientist of high

standing essayed the task of assuring an approximately equal development

of all the wines grown in one year and one vineyard. The result,

however, was unsuccessful; or if an approximate level was attained it

was, unfortunately, the level of mediocrity, or worse; the wines

operated upon were destroyed, and the savant left Spain under a cloud.

[Illustration: Plate XXXVIII.

IRRIGATION BY WATER-WHEEL (_NORIA_).

Page 334.]

Although the vine is almost ubiquitous throughout the south of Spain,

and the production of wine practically unlimited, yet there are only two

districts which yield the specific wine entitled _sherry_. These two

districts are the amphitheatre of hills which surround the city of Jerez

de la Frontera, and a small area of 1,500 acres in Montilla called

Moriles. It must also be remembered that there are differences in the

grape as well as in the soil. The vine has several distinct natural

species, as distinguished from mere varieties (whether artificial or

climatic), and the character of wine is largely dependent on the vine

producing it. Vast quantities of wine are grown in adjacent districts,

good genuine wines, sound and wholesome, but the two localities named

stand out in marked prominence. The area of the choice _vignobles_

around Jerez is some 12,000 acres, divisible into four classes according

to geological formation.[63] The average yield of the fine vineyards

being two and a half butts per acre, it follows that the total annual

production of first-class sherry is some 35,000 butts, or thereabouts.

In addition to the above quantity, there are also grown, as above

stated, large quantities of wine in the adjoining districts. These,

though pure and genuine, are but of second rank. From what we have

already written, it will be apparent that in this land of the vine (and

the same remark applies to Portugal), there is nothing so cheap as the

grape. There is therefore no temptation to seek substitutes for this,

its commonest product, or to employ other materials in its place.

Viticulture abstracts from the soil a smaller proportion of alkalies and

other mineral constituents than either corn or root-crops: hence the

exhaustion of the soil is slower and the vine can be cultivated on land

incapable of yielding any other crop. An acre of vines on sandy soil

will cost but one-half the money to cultivate, and yield three times the

weight of fruit that an acre of the _afueras_ will produce.[64] It is a

curious fact that these sandy soils never yield, even phenomenally, a

cask of fine wine. These better wines require years of keeping to attain

the perfect development of maturity, while the others, being of a

lighter description, are as good at first as they ever will be, although

in appearance and flavour the grapes of the sandy soil may even seem the

best. These facts serve to explain the difference in cost which must

exist between the produce of the two classes of vineyard.

[Illustration: A VINEYARD AT JEREZ.]

So much for the wines of Jerez; but sherry, though in British eyes it

looms the largest amongst the wines of Spain, and is, in fact, of the

greatest intrinsic value, yet represents a mere drop in the ocean as

compared with the whole produce of the land. Spain overflows with wine.

Hardly a village but has its vineyards and its vintage-time, when the

very earth becomes encarnadined, and when the chief care of the

peasantry is rather to find casks, goat-skins, or other receptacles

wherein to store their redundant crop, than wine to fill them withal. In

traversing many a hundred dusty leagues of the wildest parts of Spain,

we seldom failed to replenish our wine-skins with good, rough, red _vino

del pais_, grown on some neighbouring slope; racy of the soil,

refreshing, and delicious after hard work under a torrid sun, and at an

average price of two pesetas the arroba, or about one-third the price of

"small beer"!

One soon grows to like and appreciate these rough red wines of Northern

and Central Spain, whose generous fulness and refreshing asperity are so

requisite in this hot land. After a course of several months of the

Riojas and Valdepeñas of Spain, how thin tastes that first bottle of the

Bordelais--price two francs--at the breakfast-buffet of Hendaye!

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXX.

SOME FURTHER NOTES ON THE GREAT BUSTARD.

HIS NATURAL HISTORY AND HABITS.

Is the Great Bustard polygamous or not? We have watched these birds in

early spring-time, following every movement, and at quarters close

enough, with the binocular, to distinguish the very feathers: we have

inquired of the best and keenest bustard-shooters on the Spanish

plains--men who ought to know--and yet are unable to give a positive

opinion. The best ornithological authorities are also silent on the

point, or treat it in doubtful terms.

The Andalucian Bustards may be divided into two classes:--(1) Those

which inhabit the undulating corn-lands extending from Jerez and Utrera

eastwards--by Marchena and Osuña--to Bobadilla and the borders of Malaga

province, which race is _stationary_ throughout the year; and (2) the

Bustards of the marisma, or flat delta of Guadalquivir and other great

rivers, which seasonally shift their ground.

The corn-land Bustards (as we will call them for distinction) are

altogether a finer and heavier race than those of the marismas, scaling

commonly twenty-nine, thirty, and thirty-one pounds--some huge old

_barbones_ exceeding even this great weight; while birds of the

semi-migratory race run from twenty-four to twenty-six or-seven pounds,

rarely reaching twenty-eight, and show less of the magnificent

ruff-development which, in spring, characterizes the old males of the

campiñas of Jerez.

All the year round these latter are to be seen on the same grounds.

During the months of February and March they are in bands of from five

to fifty, males and females together, though some of the former already

begin at early dawn to "show off" and to indulge in those

ferocious-looking rehearsals preliminary--in appearance--to a pitched

battle, but which always seem to end in smoke. Round and round, in slow

majestic circles, revolve the rival _barbones_, each with trailing wings

and tail expanded, fan-like, over his back, the bristling head carried

low, the neck swollen out to abnormal thickness. Now, on that stately

parade, they meet; the champions stand face to face--intent on mortal

combat. One almost fancies one can hear the rustle as they shake out

their wings and set every feather on end--each striving to daunt and

demoralize his opponent by a display of apparent bulk. But the issue is

disappointing; only on three or four occasions have we seen battle

actually joined, and then the scuffle only lasted a few seconds.

It is, nevertheless, a magnificent spectacle to watch, perhaps, ten or a

dozen of these huge game-birds, all "showing off" under the early rays

of an April sun, and set off amidst the green corn and flower-spangled

herbage--each as he slowly struts round, "echando la rueda," displaying

alternately the swollen gorget and yellow-barred back, then the white

underparts.

This state of affairs continues during March and into April; rehearsals,

but no actions--at least we have seen none. The males really appear to

show off rather one to another than to the females, which, though not

far off, exhibit no more visible interest or concern than does our grey

hen under similar circumstances. About the 20th of April the hen lays

her two big greenish eggs amidst the growing corn, and disappears; but

even this circumstance has no appreciable effect upon the other sex, who

continue for weeks their complacent performances in spite of the fact

that the females--for whose behoof these displays were presumably

inaugurated--are no longer present to admire, as they have now commenced

the duties of incubation.

During the earlier period of this courtship, and at the time when

pairing presumably occurs, it is extremely rare to see a _single_ male

associated with a circle of females--as is the case with black game.

Each band is composed of mixed sexes, females preponderating. We have

often seen _two_ males along with five or six females, but never _one_

alone; another band consists of three males and seven females; a third

of five and thirteen; a fourth of ten and thirty, males and females

respectively; but _none_, as just stated, are formed of a pair, or of a

single male with his harem, as one would expect if the species were

polygamous in the ordinary sense.

[Illustration]

After incubation has commenced the males remain in separate packs during

summer, and take no share in domestic duties.

Turning now to the Bustards of the _marisma_, we must first explain that

there are no bustards in the marisma proper--_that_ is the home of the

Flamingo. But here, for the sake of convenience, we include the whole of

the plains, some pasturage, some arable, which, _together with_ the

_marisma_ proper, form the delta of the Guadalquivir; and especially

those parts known as the Isla Mayor and Isla Menor, so-called "islands"

formed by the triple channel of that great river.

These "islands" comprise vast areas of level pasturage--in winter bare

of herbage, almost dry mud, but by April, knee-deep in richest grass and

vegetation, resonant with the "whit-ti-wit" of unnumbered quail. On

these flowery plains are reared some of the choicest breeds of the

fighting bull--those, for example, of the Marques del Saltillo--which

may here be admired at leisure.

The first point in the life-history of these Bustards of the marisma is

their semi-migratory character. We do not mean to infer more than that

they are _locally_ migratory, shifting their ground according to season

and food-supply, but not leaving the country or crossing any sea. Africa

is the only country they could go to, but _Otis tarda_ appears to be

unknown, or at any rate very scarce, in Morocco and Algeria. Their

migrations are confined to Spanish territory. In the middle of May,

while ibex-shooting, we have observed a flight of seven Bustards in the

heart of the Sierra de Ronda, passing high over those lofty peaks.

On these plains there are Bustard of one sex _or_ the other (not always

both) at all seasons. The males leave the pasturage for the corn in

February and March, followed later by the females as the laying season

approaches. Both sexes are then seen in mixed bands as above

described--two or three up to a dozen males in each band composed of

five or six times that number of females, but _never_ in single pairs or

a single male consorting with a female retinue.

Here also we have enjoyed watching, at sunrise, the imposing

performances of the males--often five or six bands in view at once,[65]

but, as before, without detecting any specific action--nothing beyond

"show."

The eggs are laid in the last week of April (we found two females,

already sitting each on two eggs, on the 26th), and about mid-May the

males disappear. To Africa they have gone, the local shooters aver; but

this, we know, is not the case, and are far from sure that the missing

males are not simply hidden amidst the vast stretches of corn, then near

four feet high, pending their moult.

Bustards moult very severely, casting all quill-feathers (as wild geese

do) almost simultaneously. Hence, at the end of May, they become for a

time incapable of flight, and naturally, under such conditions, seek the

utmost seclusion, perhaps deceiving people into the illusion that they

had gone, when they are really simply in hiding, which the rank summer

vegetation renders easy enough. After eggs are laid, the males certainly

desert their mates entirely, forming themselves into bachelor coteries,

and leaving to the female the entire burden of the nursery.

Bustards take two years or more to acquire maturity: the year-old males

are hardly larger than adult females, possess neither ruff nor whiskers,

and do not breed. They probably continue growing for three or four

years, or even more. An old _barbon_, when winged and brought to bay,

will turn and attack its aggressor, hissing savagely and uttering a low

guttural bark, "Wuff! wuff!" Except on such occasions we have not heard

any vocal sound from a Bustard; nor do they, when winged, ever attempt

to escape by running.

Though the general habit of the Bustard is graminivorous--his food

consisting of the green corn, both blades and shoots, of grain and green

herbage of all kinds, yet in summer, when the corn is cut, he develops

for a time a keenly carnivorous character, catching and swallowing whole

the rats and mice which, at that season, swarm on the stubbled plain, as

well as the young of ground-breeding birds, buntings, larks, &c. Nor is

a reptile wholly despised--a small snake or green lizard is readily

included in his menu, and at all seasons they are very fond of insects,

especially grasshoppers and locusts.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE LITTLE BUSTARD.

(OTIS TETRAX.)

While the Great Bustard takes chief place amongst the game-birds of

Europe, both as regards size and sporting qualities, his smaller

relative, the Little Bustard--in Spanish, _Sison_--must certainly head

the list of the wily and unapproachable.

Against the Great Bustard, watchful as he is, fair measures can

successfully be brought to bear, but no skill that we know of--none,

that is, of legitimate sporting kind--will avail against the _Sison_. We

may at once classify him as the most difficult of all game-birds to

bring to bag. That he is frequently shot is no disproof of this

assertion. The birds being abundant, it would be strange indeed if none

fell "haphazard" to chance shots when the sportsman is in pursuit of

other game.

The habits of the Little Bustard are, in general, much the same as those

of the larger species. They frequent, in the main, the same ground; the

young are reared amidst the security of the ripening corn; in autumn

they form into packs or bands, and spend their days upon the open plain.

We have not, however, met with these birds on the dead-level plains, so

attractive to the _Abutarda_, and their preference is undoubtedly for

more undulated lands. We have observed them as far up as corn grows on

the foothills of the sierra.

In the month of April the Little Bustards are _all paired_, differing in

this respect from the free-loving (?) _Otis tarda_. The males have now

acquired the banded throats, and indulge in love-antics, much after the

fashion of the blackcock. Far away on the prairie one's eye catches

something white, which disappears and again appears. On focussing the

field-glass upon the distant object it is seen to be a male _Sison_,

which, with drooping wings and expanded tail, slowly revolves on his

axis. Now he rises to full height, displaying all the white on his

plumage; anon his breast seems depressed to earth, and all the while a

strange bubbling note is uttered, monosyllabic, but repeated in rapid

spondees.[66]

In vain one scans the surrounding ground to catch a glimpse of the

female; she remains crouched among the scant growth of palmetto, or

rough herbage, invisible: yet, we may presume, admiring the "play" of

her lord.

Not yet have the sentiments of love overmastered those of

self-preservation: hence an attempt to gain closer quarters will be

unsuccessful, the male bird rising on clattering wing at three gunshots,

his partner following soon after. He has not yet, moreover, attained the

fullest beauty of his nuptial plumage. By the middle of May his banded

throat, with its double gorget of black and white, has become distended

like a jargonelle pear, the rich glossy-black plumes at the back long

and hackle-like. At this period--end of May--the males may be secured by

careful approach under the stalking-horse. And now the females, already

beginning to lay, become, of course, tame enough.

The four olive-green eggs are deposited among the herbage at the end of

May--four is the number we have seen in the few nests discovered--and a

second clutch is, according to Mr. Saunders (who, we have found by

experience, makes no statement unless he has good grounds for it),

frequently laid in the latter part of July. The males, all through the

tedious business of incubation, remain hard by, ever constant to their

sitting partners, and not "packing" or deserting them, as is the wont of

their less faithful cousins, _Otis tarda_. Not till the young are on the

wing are the _Sisones_ seen again in packs. This marked difference of

habit between congeneric species so closely allied as the two Bustards

is very curious.

[Illustration: LITTLE BUSTARDS--MAY.]

Possessed of keen powers of eye and ear, combined with the strongest

ideas of self-preservation all round, the Little Bustard is never--in a

sporting season--surprised in covert. His favourite haunts are in rough

country, where he has every opportunity of remaining concealed himself,

while yet able to survey all that passes for a wide radius around.

Rarely does one descry a band of these birds _on the ground_. The loud

rattle of wings as a pack springs 200 yards away is usually the first

intimation of their presence. If, by some lucky chance, they are seen on

the ground, even then the tactics employed to secure the larger bustard,

namely, by ambushing the guns in a half-circle on their front, and

driving the birds towards them, seldom, very seldom, come off. The

_Sisones_ almost invariably take flight, from some unexplained

cause--their extreme shyness and acute senses of sight and hearing are

the only explanation--before the guns and drivers have reached their

respective points. Or, even if the pack is enclosed within the deadly

circle, they will still sometimes manage to escape by springing up high

in air, and passing out at impossible altitudes.

During the fiery heats of summer these birds may be shot by the artifice

of the bullock-cart--already described in the chapter on Great

Bustard--or be exhausted by repeated flights; but neither of these plans

possess the merits of really attractive sport, while the second involves

hard work under a heat that few men can stand.

There are, however, times when the Little Bustard may be secured upon

easier lines. Upon occasion, in autumn, they become so enamoured of

certain spots, beguiled by the plentiful supply of grain scattered

around the _eras_, or levelled threshing-grounds out in the open field,

that, like greedy blackcocks on a Northumbrian stubble, they "take a

haunt" (_toman la querencia_), and allow themselves, evening after

evening, to be surprised and shot. This, however, is not a regular habit

as with the blackcocks, but rather an exceptional case.

Standing, partially concealed by my horse, near one of these _eras_, on

one occasion a band of Little Bustards passed so near and in such close

order that three brace fell to the two barrels. On another memorable

autumn afternoon I bagged, under similar conditions, eight of these

bustards, besides four of the larger kind, the former all shot as they

flew in at dusk towards an open threshing-ground.

The sportsman on the plains is frequently apprised of a passing band of

Little Bustards by the peculiar hissing sound made by their wings in

flight, different from that of any other bird, but most resembling the

rustle of the Golden-eye; but they are rarely so confiding as to pass

within shot. The birds seen in the markets are, however, obtained, in

nine cases out of ten, at such chance moments.

In conclusion, we repeat, that whilst against every other game-bird we

know there is some ordered plan of campaign available, yet all efforts

to outmatch the astute _Sison_ are vain, and end in vexation of spirit.

He is a bird, as the Spanish put it, of very _unsympathetic_ nature

("muy antipatico") towards the fowler, and this is the more to be

regretted as his flesh is of fine pheasant-like flavour.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXXII.

A WINTER CAMPAIGN IN DOÑANA.

(NOVEMBER.)

On a bright November forenoon we embarked from the weed-girt jetty at

Bonanza on a big falucha, manned by four sun-bronzed watermen, and in

whose spacious storage lay a pile of sporting impedimenta--guns and

rifles, baggage, bedding, and the rest.

We were a party of eight--English and Spanish nationalities equally

represented--and old acquaintances, associated in many branches of

sport. All had come some distance to the rendezvous--some from Seville

and Madrid, two from England--to pass a couple of weeks at the historic

preserves of Southern Spain, the Coto de Doña Ana. As the swarthy crew

let fall their oars into the tide of Guadalquivir, all eyes turned

eagerly to the opposite shores, so full of pleasant reminiscences. 'Tis

pleasant, too, to know that as the moorings are cast loose we lose touch

of the world and its civilization; we leave behind us post and telegram,

thought and care, and, with them, perhaps, some measure of ease and

luxury--from all these things the broad flood of Boetis and leagues of

trackless waste will now divide us; we are free to revert to primæval

savagery, and we greatly rejoice thereat. Amidst these happier thoughts

arose just a qualm of speculation as to whether all the multifarious

arrangements incidental to such campaigns had been duly fulfilled, and

if we should find our people, horses and mules, awaiting us at the

appointed tryst.

[Illustration: Plate XXXIX.

A SPANISH JUNGLE--THE ANGOSTURAS.

Page 348.]

The mid-day sun was now lighting up the scene after a morning of mist

and rain; to the left lay the town of San Lucar, with its ancient castle

looming above the white crenellated walls and spacious bodegas, and

the busy strand of Bonanza, celebrated by Cervantes in _La Ilustre

Fregona_ as a rendezvous for ruffians, smugglers, and pirates. On the

stream floated craft of many descriptions, from the London steamer

receiving her cargo of manzanilla at the wharf to the falucha-rigged

"ariels" and lumbering fishing-sloops--vessels not unlike the caravels

in which, four centuries ago, Columbus set sail from the neighbouring

port of Palos to discover a New World, when

"A Castilla y á Leon

Nuevo Mundo dió Colon ."

[Illustration]

The river at this point, close to its confluence with the sea, has a

width of two miles, but the long lateen-sail, bellying out before a

gentle _poniente_, bore us rapidly to the silent strand, where our

horses stood awaiting us under a giant pine. No short time was spent in

landing baggage, for the falucha lay aground a stone's throw from the

shore; but at length all was landed, stowed in the mule-packs, and we

set out on the long ride.

It had been intended to have one "drive" this afternoon, but these

delays, and the customary tardiness of Spanish trains and travel

generally, frustrated this plan, and it was already dark ere the head

of our cavalcade sighted the welcome light displayed from the turrets of

the ancient shooting lodge of Doñana. Though now in a state of partial

ruin, the old Palacio still shows signs of former grandeur, and has

been, in bygone days, a favourite sporting retreat for more than one

Spanish king. As we approached its glimmering lights amidst the darkness

of a November evening, the resonant _konk, konk! kerronk, kerronk!_ of

the wild geese, the mournful cries of plover and curlew, and the

startled splash of wild ducks, are evidence of its lonely marsh-girt

site and prophetic of sport to come.

Around the pile of logs cheerily blazing in the spacious hearth we

gather, relieved to find that all the transport and commissariat

arrangements had this time come off without a hitch--no slight matter

where everything, from a lemon or a hen's egg to a portable bath, from a

match to a mattress, has to be transported on mule-back the whole forty

miles of rough country (and river) we had just travelled. Our Galician

cook and steward, half sportsman, half Bohemian, had come on two days in

advance, and strangers were agreeably surprised to find anything to

eat--except perhaps stewed lynx or fricasseed flamingo--in this outer

wilderness. Then, as we gathered round the blazing hearth, enjoying such

coffee and _breva_ cigars as are only combined in Spain, the keepers

come in with their reports--keepers of a different type to British

ideals, Bartolo, Larrios, and Manolo, copper-skinned, pelt-clad and

unkempt, and Trujillo, the _guarda mayor_, who enters with lordly

salaam, his jacket hung on one great shoulder as on a peg--a picture of

Cervantes' Quixote. These are four of the ten keepers who, from father

to son, have occupied the posts on the property for generations.

[Illustration: Plate XL.

PALACIO DE DOÑANA.

Page 350.]

The intention was to devote the first few days to the small game of the

adjacent plains, but our first operation in the morning was a

deer-drive. This, however, proved blank, for, though several were

seen--five stags breaking back--none, except a few hinds and one

_bareta_, or yearling stag, whose incipient horns (hardly longer than

his ears) were not distinguished by the gun past whom he broke, came

forward to the shooting line. The writer's position was on the crest of

a sand-ridge, with only the covert of a dead cistus bush: nothing,

however, tested his powers of concealment except a few partridge and a

pack of stone-plovers. The sandy glen which the post commanded was,

nevertheless, plentifully tracked over by deer, and three wild pigs had

passed inwards into the covert that morning.

After this beat, shot-cartridges were substituted for ball, and for the

rest of that day and several following ones _caza menor_ was the order

of the day. The system of small-game shooting adopted on these plains

combines both walking up and driving at the same time, and requires a

few words of description. It must be borne in mind that we always have

on one side of us--towards the north and east--the marisma, practically

at this season an inland sea, and upon this circumstance the system is

based. The plan of campaign consists in driving the game down upon the

marisma; a line of eight, ten or twelve guns each 100 or 150 yards

apart, and with several beaters placed in the interval, is formed at a

distance of three or four miles inland. This line occupies upwards of a

mile in length, and as it advances towards the marisma, obviously

encloses whatever game may be concealed in three or four square miles of

country, the greater part of which (the game) has a fair chance of

coming in the way of one point or another of the line of guns. Some care

is needed to preserve the formation of the beat, which is done by

mounted keepers, who also see that the "points" or wings are thrown

slightly in advance.

Presently there occurs an obstacle; already we have waded through some

wettish spots; but how is it possible to cross this broad lagoon? On the

right a _mancha_, one of those thickets of tree-heath and brooms, all

interlaced with thorny briars, bars the way: these _manchas_ are

impenetrable--we have proved this--save to the wild boar or the badger.

In the other direction the water stretches far--we can see the mounted

beaters already splashing through it. In England one does not walk

through river, lake, or pond merely because it lies in one's course,

but this is not England, and as, after all, the bottom is sound and

moderately level, if one can keep the cartridges dry, the sun will soon

dry the rest.

The density of the scrub varies also: sometimes for a short distance one

has to push through thickets where every step is a struggle with hard

dried cistus stems, and where broken ground, ravines and thorny jungle

make perspiration flow, and ill conduce to taking those smart chances

that offer overhead at inopportune moments.

To a northerner it is hard to believe that it is midwinter while almost

every tree remains leaf-clad, and the brushwood all green and

flower-spangled. Arbutus, rosemary and tree-heath (_Erica arborea_) are

already in bloom; while bees buzz in the shoulder-high heather, and suck

honey from its tricoloured blossoms--pink, purple and violet. Strange

flies and winged creatures of many sorts and sizes, from gnat and midge

to savage dragon-flies, rustle and drone in one's ear, or poise on

iridescent wing in the sunlight, and the hateful hiss of the mosquito

mingles with the insect-melody. Over each open flower of rock-rose or

cistus hovers the humming-bird hawk-moth, with here and there one of the

larger sphinxes (_S. convolvuli_), each with his long proboscis inserted

deep in the tender calix. Not even the butterflies are entirely absent.

We have noticed several gorgeous species at Christmas-time, including

the painted lady and red admiral, the southern wood-argus, Bath white

and clouded yellow, with _Lycæna telicanus_, _Thäis polyxena_, _Megæra_,

and many more. On the warm sand bask pretty green and spotted lizards,

apparently asleep, in the sunshine, but all alert to dart off on

slightest alarm, disappearing like a thought in some crevice among the

roots of the cistus.[67]

[Illustration: Plate XLI.

BREAKFAST-TIME--DOÑANA.

Page 352.]

Gradually, as the line approaches the flat shores of the marisma, the

"driving" shots increase in number and the cry of _pájaro_, the Spanish

equivalent to "mark over," becomes incessant. _Pajaró, pajaró_, the

magic word comes borne on the breeze from right and left, dwelt on by

the Andaluz till the final "ó" dies away in prolonged cadence; and

there, far away ahead, appear sundry dark specks in the sky, rapidly

growing in size as the redlegs wheel back towards the spot where we

crouch behind a lentiscus. Now they are overhead, for two brief seconds

within reach of a well-directed aim--then, in happy moments, a brace of

redlegs will bounce on the bents.

Here every little thicket or clump of brushwood holds some of the birds

that have been driven forward, and even on the barest ground some have

found refuge behind a tuft of grass or palmetto. Everywhere partridges

start up from the slightest covert, and one sees them running forward

ere they rise. But the hottest work occurs in the belt of rush and

reed--in the _juncos_ that border the marisma. The finale is short, but

it is sweet, and the man who has stopped handsomely the rocketers that

sped to his lot has a reputation ready made.

Such is, in outline, the system of an _avero_, several of which can be

carried out on a winter's day.

The partridges, unwilling to run save among the scrub, usually rise at

longish range on bare patches, and mount rapidly in air, their flight

rather resembling that of black-game than of our grey partridge, and as

they wheel back fast and high, and at all angles, they test the best

skill of the gunner. Besides partridge and rabbits, an odd pair of

mallards will often rise from some rushy hollow, and from the drier

reeds a quail or two spring with their smart game-like dash. The small

Andalucian bush-quail (_Turnix sylvatica_) is occasionally shot, and

crossing the more open ground, among short scrub of tamarisk and

juniper, a few hares will be added to the bag. These are of the small

southern race, _Lepus mediterraneus_, weighing only five or six pounds,

more brindled in colour and with warmer shades on shoulders and flanks

than ours. One of them being hemmed in, was this afternoon swimming a

shallow pool when she attracted the attention of a Southern Peregrine

falcon (_Falco punicus_) which was waiting on the partridge in front of

our line. This falcon had already made several fine stoops at the flying

game, all unsuccessfully, when the sight of a hare in difficulties

brought him overhead, and, in the act of poising, a double shot laid

both low.

[Illustration: A ROYAL HEAD--DOÑANA.]

After two or three days with the small game, it was decided to give the

deer a turn. The sun shone brightly as we rode out to the ground

selected for the day's sport, and a gentle breeze blew from a favourable

direction. The first beat, nevertheless, proved blank--only hinds

passing through the line, which served to give us, for a moment, a

flutter of excitement as they crashed through the under-wood, and dashed

away at redoubled speed. On the next drive several stags were seen--some

broke back, but three ran the gauntlet of our line at different points,

offering good opportunities to three of our guns, two of which, however,

were not accepted. The third hart was stopped in the midst of a last

bound by a clean rifle-shot at long range--a fine head of twelve tines.

[Illustration: DEAD LYNX.]

The guns were next placed along a line of gigantic clumps of bulrushes

which extended for miles with narrow glades, and thick, matted jungle

between. This beat resulted successfully: seven shots were fired, two

deer escaped, but two deer and two boars were killed. A curious incident

also occurred with a lynx: the beast was evidently wounded by a lucky

rifle-shot, and presently, the dogs ran her to bay in a neighbouring

_mancha_. Here one of us who had fired the first shot followed, when,

coming unexpectedly upon her in a narrow opening, the lynx being

enclosed between man and dogs, made a desperate spring to pass by; the

writer, in stepping aside, tripped and fell prostrate on his back, right

under the furious beast--never did man rise more promptly! luckily

without a scratch, and the next moment the lynx lay gasping out its life

on the sand.

After this beat rifles were exchanged for smooth-bores, a line formed,

and we shot our way back to the lodge, securing some twenty brace of

partridge and other small game, besides another stag, which, all too

drowsy, had permitted our line to advance too near ere he sprang from

his lair. Shot was quickly exchanged for ball, and as the hart ran

broadside on and within one hundred yards of two guns, he was struck in

three places, and the dogs soon pulled him down. This was a very old

beast, but only carried eight points, the "bay" antlers being entirely

wanting, and the double-tops curiously bent inwards. This small-game

beat having brought us to the verge of the marisma, we finished a

successful day's sport with an hour's flight-shooting, during which five

geese and nearly fifty teal and wigeon were brought to bag. The day's

results were thus:--4 stags, 2 boar and a lynx, 23-1/2 brace small game,

and 54 head of wildfowl.

This evening there was performed the time-honoured ceremony of crowning

with the laurel a neophyte in _caza mayor_. Dark-eyed Petra, the

recognized belle of a region where it must be admitted that rivals were

few, headed the motley procession of guards, beaters, and miscellaneous

folk from the lower regions, and gracefully invested the blushing brows

of Santiago, who knelt before her, with a chaplet of flowering arbutus.

Then the loving cup passed round, and each drank to the health of the

fair donor and the wearer of the crown. There followed a scene of

festivity and ordered revels. The spacious court-yard was lit up by a

blazing bonfire, and in its lambent light danced stalwart figures

arrayed in the picturesque costume of rural Andalucia, while maiden

forms alternately revolved and pirouetted in graceful minuet or

fandango, keeping time to the guitar, and each accompanying her own

movements with the castanets. We were told that a trio of brunettes had

travelled the long four leagues from the hamlet of Rocio to our lonely

quarters to join the festive scene, but felt too much flattered by the

compliment to inquire if such was really the case.

[Illustration: GROUP OF FOREST-GUARDS.]

The revelry continued till far on in the night, but for all that, a

faithful few were taking a hasty cup of coffee at 5 A.M. preparatory to

an early attack on the greylags. A strong west wind howled across the

waste, whistling through the cracks of roof and rickety

window-frames--favourable omens--and before the sun rose we were far out

in the marsh, lying concealed on the furthest projecting points of dry

land. Then, as the approaching dawn set the wildfowl in motion, the

half-lit skies were serried with hurrying files, and the cold air

resounded with the cries of the various ducks and geese. Our luck this

morning was hardly so good as expected, but four guns brought in 7

geese, 21 teal, and 8 mallards.

[Illustration: PANNIER-PONY AND GAME.]

This day again proved a lucky one--several deer and a lynx, besides

minor game, being piled on the panniers of the carrier-ponies before

night. The lynx was a specially handsome beast, an old male with bushy

whiskers, his tawny pelt boldly splashed with dark spots. He was killed

by a rifle-ball when going at top speed across a glade. The writer's

mind that evening was, nevertheless, tinged with regret. While posted as

"point-gun," amidst some lovely but very broken forest ground at a

remote _corral_, I observed an object move slightly among some young

pine-scrub in a hollow on my front. It was the antlers of a stag; and

soon, by the forest of ivory tips, I perceived they belonged to a hart

of no ordinary degree. Presently the owner emerged from the covert and

for several seconds stood, fully exposed, at 100 yards, an enormous

beast, looking as black as coal against a background of dead yellow

flags. He presented a certain shot; but, alas! was still _within the

beat_; and though the stag stood in a slight hollow where rising ground

behind rendered the shot perfectly safe, I hesitated to break the rules,

and the chance was lost--the grand beast going away wide to the right.

The vision of that stag, with his broad and branching head and

unnumbered points, his massive frame and glossy coat, haunted me awake

and asleep that night and for many another.

[Illustration: SPANISH RED DEER--A MOUNTAIN-HEAD FROM MORENA.]

A few weeks afterwards, when "still-hunting" with a single Spanish

companion in the same district, we came somewhat unexpectedly (it was

only 4 P.M.), on a stag quietly splashing through a marsh-belt that

separated two patches of forest. The beast was more than half a mile

off; but on reaching the place after a detour, we observed him standing

under the shade of some trees 400 yards distant. On putting the glass on

him, to my intense joy, I recognized my old friend of a month ago--there

he stood flicking at the flies, the _black stag_ beyond a shadow of

doubt! A nearer direct approach was not possible; but José suggested

that by going round in a wide circuit and giving the stag his wind, he

would probably move him my way. This manoeuvre we proceeded to carry

out, and in half an hour's time I had the satisfaction of observing the

great beast's first signs of suspicion. He had, meanwhile, laid down;

now he rose and moved uneasily away, stopping and sniffing alternately.

Then he seemed to have made up his mind, turned deliberately, and slowly

trotted in my direction. José had managed the business in a masterly

way--never showing. Already the stag had reached a long range shot, when

from the nearer, opposite, covert dashed five hinds, which came

splashing through the water, right between me and the big stag. How

persistently those confounded hinds interposed their useless bodies

right between the foresight and its mark! Already the black hart was

within thirty yards of the water's edge and the shelter of the forest;

when, for a few moments, I got a clear view of his broadside at rather

long range, took a full sight with the 100-yard flap up, and fired.

Thud! went the conical Paradox ball right on the point of his shoulder,

and he pitched forward, stone-dead, in the water. It was a pretty shot,

well placed, though rather high, breaking the spine close below the

withers. Such shots are, of course, instantly fatal; but are too risky

to _try for_, since they come within an inch or two of a clean miss!

There is a degree of mental gratification in occasionally "pulling off"

shots of this kind--that is, in killing _clean_ with ball a large animal

in full career, and at long distance--that must probably be experienced

to be appreciated. And, after all, how much is due to the marvellous

precision and power of modern sporting weapons! This stag carried

sixteen points, and his horns measured along the curve 32 inches, with a

sweep of 28 inches. In weight he probably exceeded any we have shot on

the Spanish plains, and his rich velvety pile was conspicuously dark and

glossy.

One other incident, with a moral: towards the end of one campaign an

afternoon was devoted to burning the _carrizales_, or bamboo-brakes,

which in places form belts of jungle, extending over several miles, and

afford secure harbour for various wild animals, including, occasionally,

deer. These places, owing partly to the impervious nature of the covert

and partly to the quicksands and quaking bogs with which the jungle is

interspersed, cannot be traversed: hence the only effectual means of

driving out the game which may lie within their shelter is by fire. The

writer, to-day, though the first gun in line, was posted some half a

mile back from the commencement of the beat, and was endeavouring to

make a hasty sketch of the beautiful landscape of cane-brake, bamboo,

and marsh-land which stretched away before us. The dry sedges and canes

were fired at several points: but hardly had the distant smoke-wreaths

begun to curl upwards in the clear still air, than a first-rate stag

slowly trotted across the open, right before me. I had not seen him

come; the sketch-book was in hand; the gun--loaded in _both_ barrels

with shot, for cats and the like--lay on the ground; truly a magnificent

bungle! One ball-cartridge was inserted ere the game, still unconscious

of an ambush, was passing, full broadside, at 80 or 90 yards--as easy a

shot as need be wished. But in the flurry of unreadiness, I forgot to

raise the sight, and the ball passed immediately beneath the breast,

missing both forelegs. Again a cartridge had to be changed; and now the

stag was bounding away, end-on, at 150 yards. This time the aim was

refined and nerves braced by a very sense of shame, and the impact of

the ball was distinctly, though faintly, heard. On went the stag,

disappearing over rising ground behind, and hardly had the cartridges

been replaced, than a second hart, breaking back, offered a long and

infinitely more difficult shot; but, after one vertical bound, like that

of a lightly-hooked salmon, dropped stone-dead in his tracks. Soon

afterwards a small stag with three hinds showed on the outer edge of the

jungle; but, though more than one express rifle was levelled at him, the

distance was too great (300 or 400 yards), and the bullets uselessly

ricochetted across the swampy wastes. Towards the end, two wild-cats

bounded from the fringe of burning bamboos, and simultaneous shots

stretched both lifeless among the tamarisks.

[Illustration: A STAG OF THIRTEEN POINTS.]

The spectacle from our posts was remarkable, the whole area, many

hundred acres, enveloped in smoke; here and there tongues of flame shot

upwards as the flying sparks carried forward the conflagration across

some marsh-channel and renewed the dying blaze. Dense black clouds

rolled away to leeward, amidst which hovered swarms of swallows and

insect-feeding birds with an outer fringe of kites, kestrels and

magpies, all preying on belated locusts and coleoptera. Legions of

mice--common house-mice, as far as we could judge--with land-and

water-rats, fled from the fiery jungle; here and there a grizzly

mongoose hurried off up the sloping dune; otters, genets and badgers

were seen at various points, while coots and bitterns, rails, crakes,

and waterhens flapped about, half-dazed with fright. Over the smoking

brakes swept buzzards and marsh-harriers which, forgetting their fears

in opportunity, pounced boldly on the homeless and helpless.

As soon as it was over, we went eagerly to examine the tracks of the big

stag. Yes! blood was there sure enough--whole streams of it; but the

verdict of the _guardas_ was prompt and emphatic--"that stag you will

never get. See! the blood is all at one side. The bullet has merely

grazed his off-flank, causing a flesh-wound which bleeds much, but does

no vital harm." They were right. Impelled by shame and self-reproach, we

followed the trail for miles; but though we twice sighted our quarry

afar, it was evident he had sustained no serious injury, and as he

headed for a wild region where leagues of jungle afforded secure refuge,

we were fain, at dusk, to acknowledge defeat, and to leave him in peace.

Now for the moral--though perhaps it hardly needs pointing. Never

attempt to sketch, or otherwise play the fool, when every energy should

be concentrated on the sport in hand. One thing well done is as much as

poor mortals are capable of at one time.

Thus, amidst varied and abundant sport, fun and good-fellowship, amidst

lovely scenes and a glorious climate, sped all too quickly those happy

days in Doñana--some devoted to big game, some to small; on others we

divided forces, one party going to the partridges, or quail, another

preferring wildfowl; while those who had confidence in their skill with

the rifle elected to _rastrear_--that is, to track a deer to his lair,

following the _rastro_, or spoor, of some big hart, perhaps for leagues,

across the broken plains and _corrales_, with only the uncertain

prospect of a difficult, often impossible, snap-shot after all. But

there is a reward in seeing the skill in woodcraft displayed by the

Spanish _guardas_, who seem to diagnose by intuition the unfulfilled

ideas and desires which, some hours previously, have been passing

through the mind of the hart, whose faint _rastro_ they follow with

the certainty and patience of a bloodhound. This is, however, a distinct

branch of sport, to which we owe many a pleasant day on the

South-Spanish plains, and a separate chapter is devoted to its

description.

[Illustration: Plate XLII.

SPANISH WILDFOWLERS WITH _CABRESTO_ PONIES.

Page 365.]

One day we tried a novel method of approaching the wildfowl on the

shores of a lake which lay at a distance of three or four miles. This

was by means of the _cabresto_, or decoy pony--a curious experience. The

wildest waterfowl are at the mercy of a clever fowler provided with one

of these ponies. As there are many half-wild mares pasturing at large

over the swamps, the ducks are accustomed to the sight of them and take

no alarm at their proximity. As we approached the lake, its flat sandy

margin was in places black with wildfowl, while myriads sat on the

surface, splashing and pluming themselves in the sunshine. With each of

the three ponies went its owner, a _patero_, or professional

wildfowl-shooter, each taking with him one of us--almost literally--"in

tow," for, with one hand grasping the pony's tail, the other carrying

the gun, we followed each close behind his _patero_, who directed the

pony towards the thickly-covered shore. We proceeded thus, crouching

behind the pony's quarters, till we had approached within 100 yards of

the fowl. The leading _patero_ now stopped his pony, which at once

commenced to feed, an example followed by the rest--we six men sitting

meanwhile on the grass. No alarm was shown by the ducks. A cord was now

slipped over the neck of each _cabrestro_ and made fast to its off

foreleg above the knee, bringing the heads of the ponies close to the

ground, thus giving them the appearance of grazing, though in truth we

were now on bare dry mud. We continued approaching thus, and the

interval was now reduced to fifty yards; looking beneath the ponies we

could see hundreds of ducks all playing themselves in fancied security.

There, close at hand, sat or swam wigeon and mallards, shovelers,

garganeys, teal and pintails, a few gadwall and several of the curious

heavy-headed "porrones" (_Erismatura mersa_), with diving-ducks and

grebes of many kinds. The nearer shore was massed with teal, and a few

yards beyond a big pack of mallards were daintily pluming themselves. As

the teal came first in line, it was to them we directed our attention:

with alternate progression and feigned halts to "graze" we continued our

slow advance. We were now within twenty-five yards of the teal: already

a movement of preparation had been made by the leading gun, instantly

imitated by the two who followed, when a tremendous scare took place

among the wildfowl, and the whirr of wings threw the whole lake into

confusion. A kite had swept across the birds, and all had taken to the

refuge of the deep waters. "Paciencia," resignedly muttered our friends

the _pateros_. We uncocked our guns and squatted on the mud, each under

cover of his beast, thus spending an hour while the frightened fowl

gradually swam ashore and reformed on the margin. A second time the

moment to pull trigger had almost arrived when the tyrant again swept

over with the same result as before. At last, however, the twice delayed

moment arrived, and our six barrels drove together through the ranks of

teal, leaving upwards of fifty dead or wounded on the shore, of which we

ultimately bagged forty-four. This shot was taken against the wishes of

our friends, who declared that had we waited an hour longer we should

have had the birds thick enough to have killed three times that number.

But we had other sport in view, and could not wait for this golden

opportunity; besides, our rival the kite might have spoiled our game

again. We had, however, seen enough to understand that one of these men

and his sagacious auxiliary can really account for the almost fabulous

number of ducks which they are said occasionally to obtain at a single

shot. These men shoot for a living; hence they never fire except when

they have made certain of a heavy shot. It is not at all unusual for

them to manoeuvre for a whole day without discharging their ancient

fowling-pieces. They make the slowest approach, get to the closest

quarters possible, and never unnecessarily disturb the fowl. When they

_do_ fire it is a bumper. In summer their occupation is varied by

fishing and catching leeches in the swamps, which they do by flogging

the surface of the water, when the leeches fasten upon their legs. A

trained _cabresto_ pony, though a rough, shaggy little beast, is of

considerable value to these men, among whom there exists a sort of

brotherhood, and an intruder of their own class fares badly if he

ventures into the lonely districts which they almost regard as their

exclusive domain.[68]

[Illustration: Plate XLIII.

A SHOT IN THE OPEN.

Page 367.]

At length the time for our departure had arrived, for we intended

spending a few days among the big game in the extensive pine-forests

which cover the southern extremity of the Coto Doñana. The pack-mules

with the baggage being despatched by a direct route, we rode off on an

almost summerlike morning, taking a wider course so as to get a "drive"

of some of the wooded _corrales_ that lay towards the west. Here, in one

of the wildest spots, Manolo placed the line of guns. The writer is

posted on a mound of blown sand, one of the many which form the

irregular broken country around. The cocked rifle is placed conveniently

for instant grasp while one surveys the position and speculates on the

likeliest spot for a stag to appear--quickly taking note of the uneven

ground, its hillocks and hollows where it will be necessary to

enterprise a snap-shot, and again where more deliberate aim may be

taken. Every here and there similar mounds present an unbroken view,

spots where the driven sand has collected around some stalwart pine,

taking various picturesque forms and crowned with the dark green foliage

of latest growth.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Plate XLIV.

SALAVAR--A SKETCH IN A SPANISH _MANCHA_.

Page 369.]

Presently the sharp crack of a rifle breaks our reverie and gives

startling evidence that game is afoot. A few seconds later the patter of

galloping feet is heard on the hard sand and the expected quarry bounds

across the glen, his antlers thrown back as he scents danger and

redoubles his speed. Full in the shoulder strikes the express bullet,

stopping his flight and sending him headlong to earth, where a second

shot ends his agony with instant death. In this fortunate drive four

stags and two boars are brought to bag. One of the latter, in a thick

brambled _mancha_, for some time defied the dogs, which declined to face

him at close quarters. He was a brute of unusual size, and each time

he faced the dogs with gnashing tusks, they retired. At last a shot

fired in the air dislodged him, and a quick rifle-shot took effect in

his lower jaw. Again he sought refuge among the brambles, but the dogs

now held the advantage, and inch by inch he was driven forward to a

point where he offered an easy mark to several guns, and soon Manolo's

long _navaja_ was performing his obsequies. Another stag of thirteen

points (_see_ photo, p. 363), and a brace of foxes, right and left, were

secured in a small isolated thicket just before dusk, and the last ten

miles of our ride had thus to be managed in the dark.

* * * * *

One more incident before we leave these forests. Early on a winter

morning we had reached the remote covert of Salavar, and owing to its

extent, and the strong wind blowing, which would prevent the shots being

heard, it was decided to drive it in two sections. At the end of the

first beat, which had produced three stags--two lynxes also passing the

line unscathed--the guns and drivers were assembled preparatory to the

second (windward) _batida_, when, from that direction, a couple of

distant gunshots were distinctly heard. Clearly poachers were at work,

and already the forest-guards were conjecturing (and rightly as it

proved) the personality of the depredator--an old offender who had

before given trouble. The man penetrated to the heart of these wild

regions accompanied only by his son, and his mode of procedure was to

station himself to the leeward of any likely bit of covert, and sending

the lad round, to await the chance of the latter driving forward any

deer which might happen to be lying in it. His two shots had been at

hinds. Leaving the main party to surround the _mancha_, two of the

keepers galloped off in the direction of the shots, separating so as to

enclose the poacher and cut off his retreat. Soon one of these came

across the tracks of naked feet on the sand, and shortly overtook the

culprit already preparing a drive of the covert we had just beaten.

Taken by surprise, resistance or flight were impossible; the poacher's

gun was taken from him, and he and his son marched off prisoners to our

main party--an ill-looking ruffian clad in deer-skins, of whom some ugly

tales were told. Brought before our friend representing the proprietary,

the captive showed an undaunted and even impudent demeanour, asserting

that it was the hunger of his children that had brought him from a

village on the Guadiana (some fifty miles away), to kill the deer,

which, he said, belonged to him equally with any other of God's

creatures. Such primitive principles availed but little with these

fierce keepers, imbued with almost feudal respect for forest-game, and

this bold adherent of "commonwealth" was deprived of his gun and ordered

off to the coast, with a warning that he would shortly have to answer

for his conduct before the magistrate at Almonte. As he turned to obey,

old Bartolo, whose estimate of the terrors of Spanish law evidently

stood low, shouted after him, with a significant tap on the stock of his

ancient _escopeta_, "Look here, Cristobal! you have given us a deal of

trouble; you will come here once too often!"

It may occur to the reader to conjecture how the poacher could have

utilized his deer, had he secured one, in so remote a spot. Far away on

the distant boundary of the Coto, he had his donkey hidden in some

thicket of lentiscus, and under cover of night would have returned for

his spoils, and moving stage by stage to the sea-shore, would contrive

to reach his village before daybreak. He was, however, securely caught,

for within an hour another keeper arrived, who also had detected the

trespasser's footprints at a point some ten miles away, and suspecting

they were none of honest man, had followed the trail. Thus, even had

Cristobal not been captured by us, he would still have been intercepted

by this second adversary.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

WILDFOWLING IN THE WILDERNESS.

I.--A WET WINTER: A RECORD OF DIFFICULTIES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS.

The wildfowl-shooting of the Peninsula in favourable seasons and

situations is probably equal to any in Europe. But much depends on the

place, and everything on the season. There are plenty of provinces and

miles of marsh-land where the hardest work is barely rewarded by a pair

or two of ducks, or perhaps five couple of snipe, and where many a long

day will be registered blank. Then, as just stated, _everything_ depends

on the weather. For climatic conditions vary extremely as between one

winter and another. Some Spanish winters are dry and rainless; hardly

any moisture remaining save in certain favoured spots; and to these

sparse green oases throng the aquatic hosts. Here, at such times, come

the red-letter days for the fowler.

But Spanish winters are not always dry; on the contrary, it frequently

happens that the rains set in in autumn with semi-tropical fury,

converting this drainless land into one vast swamp, and inundating the

_marismas_ till they grow into inland seas. The difference between a wet

and a dry winter is marvellous. We propose in this chapter to describe

the somewhat indifferent sport of a _wet winter_, even in a good

locality, together with its effect on the habits and distribution of

wildfowl.

The winter of 1887-8 will serve as a typical example. In November the

rain set in; during December it descended day after day, and by the end

of the month the swollen flood of Guadalquivir had spread itself

laterally over its low riparian terrain to a breadth of perhaps sixty

miles of unbroken water. Miniature breakers dashed up against the

leeward shores; the marsh lands which border the marisma were submerged,

and the whole delta, extending to Seville, was under water. From the

moment we beheld that tawny expanse, it was clear that all hope of

success in wildfowling enterprise must be abandoned. It is not so much

that in a wet season wildfowl are less abundant (for they are there in

thousands), as that they are scattered over so vast an area, instead of

being concentrated at certain spots, which explains the difficulty of

their pursuit and the impossibility of securing any large numbers.

Riding along the shores of this inland sea, we observed numerous packs

of wildfowl floating on its surface, but always at such a distance from

the shore as to be inaccessible by the ordinary Spanish system of the

stalking-pony. The _cabresto_ is only available when ducks are found in

shallow water or in comparatively narrow channels where the ponies can

be worked round them till the fowlers gradually bring their masked

batteries to bear. But now, with the whole country submerged, it was

impossible to concentrate the fowl, and our efforts were generally

directed against scattered packs, nearly always on the edge of perfectly

open water. Instead of being able, by manoeuvring at a little

distance, gently to move forward the outside birds, to close up the

ranks, and thus to gather together a compact body upon which to direct

our broadside, we had now to deal with loosely-scattered parties dotted

here and there for miles along what was practically an open shore, and

which simply swam away from us into deeper water. Then, in this deeper

water, the deception naturally lost great part of its efficacy; for

though the sight of a half-wild pony grazing in shallow marsh where

grass and water-plants rise above the surface, has no terror for the

duck tribe, yet the case is obviously altered when the pony is directed

into open water, devoid of all signs of vegetation, and reaching up to

his belly! No sensible beast would ever seek such "pasturage," and

the anomaly is quickly detected by the ducks.

[Illustration: Plate XLV.

WILDFOWLING WITH _CABRESTOS_. No. 1.--THE APPROACH.

Page 372.]

There were, however, abundance of wildfowl; some of the aggregations of

pintails, indeed, were a memorable sight, darkening acres of water, and

in the upper marisma we occasionally enjoyed a degree of success which

would undoubtedly have been gratifying but for loftier anticipations.

Riding along the marshy margins at daybreak, tempting chances at

twenties and thirties offered themselves, but our _pateros_ would not

hear of our disturbing the wastes for such paltry lots--"_veinte ó

treinta pares al primer tiro_" (twenty or thirty couples at the first

shot) was their constant refrain; but sometimes the results belied their

judgment, and more than once before night we regretted those matutinal

scruples. On more fortunate days we did succeed in working our way into

the midst of such assemblages of ducks as it rarely falls to the lot of

wildfowler to see at close quarters all around him. It is necessary, as

a general rule, to keep to leeward of wildfowl; but with the _cabrestos_

this is of less importance, and owing to their numbers and the

straggling area of their phalanxes, it often happened that we had

considerable bodies of duck almost under our lee and actually appeared

to be in the midst of them. Not even in a gunning-punt can such

opportunities of observation of wild creatures be enjoyed; for, then,

one is necessarily lying prone, with eyes barely raised above

water-level; here, merely crouching behind a shaggy little pony, one

commanded a clear and uninterrupted view.

The bulk of the ducks this winter (1888) proved to be Pintails, though

Wigeon were hardly less abundant. Wet seasons suit the tastes of the

former species, which then throng the flooded plains in tens of

thousands all through the winter, whereas in dry years the Pintails

almost immediately pass on into Africa, not reappearing till February,

on their way north. The Pintail with his very long neck, trim, slender

build and sailing flight is a striking-looking bird--its appearance on

the wing suggesting an intensified, or idealized, development of the

duck type, familiar in the common mallard. We could watch them busily

preening themselves, washing and coquetting, some tugging at the sweet

green grasses that grew below, others daintily plucking the white

water-buttercups floating on the surface, all within five-and-twenty

yards, or passing and repassing close overhead, keeping up the while a

wild, lively chatter, mingled with the musical whistle of the Wigeon. We

have never seen elsewhere such splendid examples of the latter species

as some of the old drakes shot here; the metallic colours shone with an

intense lustre, and the rich dark chestnut of their heads was glossed

with green and purple reflections.

At several periods there appeared to offer chances for our four united

barrels to realize from twenty-five to thirty head; but our friends

would not hear of it, and when at last the signal to open fire was

given, the occasion was often less favourable, and the net result little

more than half those numbers. Our friends' anxiety for a big shot had

perhaps tempted them to overdo the "herding" business; it was, however,

a relief to be at last allowed to stand upright. The labour of crouching

along, bent half double for an hour at a stretch, splashing through

water over knee-deep and in clinging mud, is rather severe. There is,

moreover, but scant room for two behind a pony, and the crowding

intensifies the discomfort of the bent position. There is the necessity

to avoid bringing one's heavy-nailed brogues down on one's companion's

naked heels or toes; then again, no part of one's person must show in

outline above or astern, and lastly there is the gun. By an axiom of

sport, it must never point towards man or beast; to carry it pointing

downwards would never do--the muzzle would be a foot under water, and

upwards it would show like a pole-mast above the ponies' quarters. The

gun, in short, for fifty-nine minutes in every hour, is simply a

nuisance.

Though the chief species of ducks against which our operations were

directed were the above-named--Pintails and Wigeon--there were several

other kinds, notably Shovelers--very handsome birds, the drakes, with

their boldly contrasted plumage, glossy green heads and chest-nut

breasts divided by a band of snow-white purity. Besides these there were

the Mallard and Teal, and others to which we will refer presently.

[Illustration: Plate XLVI.

WILDFOWLING WITH _CABRESTOS_. No. 2.--THE SHOT.

Page 374.]

It was during flight-shooting in the early mornings that the greatest

variety of wildfowl was observed, the numbers of Shovelers being

especially conspicuous. One morning we particularly remember; we had

ridden nearly all night to reach a certain favourite spot before

daybreak. Even the _pateros_ were still asleep when, at 2 A.M., we rode

up to their solitary _choza_ on the verge of the marsh. However, we were

soon in our allotted positions, each on board a tiny _lancha_, or

flat-bottomed punt, far out in the marisma. Towards the dawn a very

great number of ducks were on the wing--Mallards, Pintails, Teal, and

Wigeon, while from an opposite direction the Shovelers streamed overhead

for a couple of hours. These handsome _paletones_ took my fancy, and

drew the bulk of my cartridges; but whether they were too high, or the

powder, in Spanish phrase, too "cold," the results were certainly not

commensurate. In any case it is no easy matter to take fast and high

shots when balancing oneself in a cranky punt. A valid excuse was the

unusual amount of water. This disadvantage is felt, in wet winters, at

every turn; here, in flighting, in the entire absence of covert in which

to conceal our punts. Hardly even the tops of the rushes, tamarisk and

other bog-plants protruded above the surface. Consequently the

high-sided punts loomed far too conspicuous, even in the half-light,

causing the fowl to "sky" or to swerve to right or left. Again by reason

of the punts being fully afloat (instead of lying on the mud) a

difficulty was added to the taking of quick shots, for on any sudden

movement of its occupant, the tiny craft lurched almost to the capsizing

point. In spite of all this, the double flashes from the adjoining

_lancha_ were generally succeeded by one, and often by two, answering

splashes in the dark water.

Pochards and a few Tufted ducks are almost the only members of the

diver-tribe that we have met with in the marisma during wet winters,

though, by February, some of the Ferruginous ducks (_Fuligula nyroca_)

are beginning to return, and probably a few White-fronted ducks

(_Erismatura leucocephala_) will also, by then, be found on the deeper

waters. Of the Red-crested duck (_F. rufina_), which is fairly common

near Valencia, we have never seen a single example in the Andalucian

marismas; nor were any Gadwalls included in the bag this season, though

in other winters, not entirely dissimilar, we have secured several.

The distribution of the Anatidæ is, in fact, somewhat puzzling. Some

species are very regular; others, without apparent cause, are just the

reverse. The movements of Pintail, as just stated, are clearly regulated

by the state of water in the marshes. Those of Gadwall and Garganey, on

the other hand, bear no visible relation to these or other external

conditions, but neither of the two last-named are ever abundant. The

Garganey, a bird of infinite speed of wing, the first to come in autumn,

the last to depart in spring, spends the mid-winter months in Africa;

though one morning at dawn (January 31st) four drakes fell to a double

shot, and during February we secured many more; but this does not occur

every year. The Marbled duck (_Q. marmorata_), a first cousin of the

teal, seldom arrives in time to take part in the wildfowl-shooting;

though we have notes of an occasional straggler being recognized amidst

the slain as early as February.

Sheld-ducks of both kinds are found at all seasons in the Guadalquivir

district, where they remain to breed in spring; the common species in

rabbit-or disused badger-holes among the sandhills, the large Ruddy

Sheld-duck in low cliffs or _barrancos_. A few of either species usually

fall to our guns while flight-shooting during the winter months.

[Illustration: "_ANSERES SON!_"]

Next to ducks, the most important wildfowl of the marisma are the Grey

Geese, which resort thither from November till February. Their habit is

to spend the night on the open water and to fly up in successive parties

about daybreak to the grassy shores, where, if unmolested, they spend

the day feeding, preening, and washing in the shallow water. In these

situations, we frequently fell in with them while fowling with the

_cabrestos_. "Anseres son!"--"geese they are"--was Vasquez's verdict,

as he slowly shut up the glass after a long and particular survey of the

distant foreshore. The words were spoken sadly, as though soliloquizing,

for the Grey Lag is altogether too wary and suspicious a bird to fall

readily into the snare of the fowler. Barely indeed is it possible, by

this stratagem,[69] to approach within the short range which alone is

fatal--forty yards is the maximum for these ironclads, and twenty-five

much more desirable. Except when in very small numbers--twos and threes

together--it is barely worth while to attempt a stalk; our friends only

undertook the operation under protest, saying it was a _compromiso_--a

thing calculated to compromise their aucipial repute. _Anseres son!_

there, sure enough, on the utmost verge of the plain, sits a straggling

line with detached groups of big, blue-grey forms, some slowly moving

about, others squatted on the ground or resting in various attitudes of

repose. Such big packs are inaccessible; only once, that winter, did we

seem to be really on the road to success. The bulk of the geese--some

seventy in number--appeared to be peacefully sleeping away the mid-day

hours, some sitting on the grass, others standing on one leg with heads

snugly tucked away under their back feathers. We had already reached the

critical point, and the ponies well know now the importance of

caution--step by step, with a halt at every fourth or fifth to crop a

mouthful of grass, they slowly advance. We had proceeded thus to within

a shot and a half of the still silent geese, when from an intervening

belt of rush there sprang a couple of the half-wild, black pigs of the

wilderness. Away they scampered, jostling and fighting with each other

in their fright, and squealing as only pigs can squeal. In an instant

the geese were on the alert--every neck at full stretch, every eye

seeking keenly the cause of the unwonted uproar. From the sentinel

gander came the low, clear alarm-note--Honk! honk! The rest were still

silent, but they knew full well the significance of those low warning

notes. A few seconds more and, despite our utmost care, the whole

pack rose on wing, amid deep Spanish execrations on the mothers and

female relatives of those _malditos cochinos_.

[Illustration: GREY LAG GEESE FLIGHTING--DAYBREAK.]

[Illustration: Plate XLVII.

GREY GEESE AND WIGEON--MIDDAY.

Page 378.]

The geese have particular spots along the shore to which they show a

predilection--usually the point of some flat promontory or tongue of

land, to which they daily resort. By placing a few decoys before dawn,

and lying in wait at these _querencias_, several shots may be obtained

at the "morning flight." The difficulties of wild-goose shooting are,

however, proverbial, and these big Grey Lags are, moreover, the hardest

and most invulnerable fowl. Yet if the bag is sometimes light, those

mornings spent in the marisma will never be regretted, nor the sights

and sounds heard during the lonely hours of vigil be forgotten. Within

one hundred yards of the damp hole where we lie hidden are three or four

separate packs of Grey Lags swimming on the silvery water, while fresh

parties constantly keep arriving to join the assemblage, sailing with

lowered pinions and cautious croaks towards the fatal decoy.

The geese of the Spanish marismas are principally the Grey Lag (_Anser

ferus_) and the Bean-goose (_Anser segetum_) in much less numbers. The

latter usually flight singly or in small trips; their note is also

different--like that of a large gull. The Lesser White-fronted Goose

(_Anser erythropus_ of Linnæus), appears also to occur in the marisma.

Lord Lilford mentions having observed a single example in company with

Grey Lags, and has skins of this small species obtained at Seville. As

regards the other European species, there is no evidence of their winter

range extending to Southern Spain, though it is possible that stragglers

of both the Pink-footed and White-fronted Geese may occasionally do so.

Of wild Swans we have only once met with a bunch of four, as elsewhere

related, and one of our _pateros_ told us he had killed two or three

during an exceptionally severe winter several years ago. He regarded

them as extremely unusual, and in fact did not know what they were till

he took them to San Lucar for sale.

Ducks and geese are not the only denizens of the wilderness. The genus

of wading birds is a natural complement, and their beauty and variety

almost always lend an additional charm to shooting-days by marsh, mere,

and coast; but this winter they disappointed us. The simple fact was

that the whole of their wonted haunts were submerged, and they had

sought their desiderata elsewhere. Whether they had passed on southward

through the tropics or eastward towards Egyptian lagoons, or returned

whence they had come--at any rate, in Spain they were not. During the

days spent behind our _cabrestos_ we saw hardly any of these birds.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Plate XLVIII.

WILDFOWLING WITH _CABRESTOS_. No. 3.--THE RESULT.

Page 381.]

Another loss caused by the adverse season was the absence of snipe; they

had arrived as usual, in October and November, but during the rains of

the following month had disappeared--and not without reason, since

nearly the whole of their favourite haunts now lay submerged. Among the

birds which remained may be mentioned curlews, and peewits in large

numbers, a few golden plovers, redshanks, dunlins and Kentish

plovers; on several occasions, chattering packs of stilts were met with,

and on January 30th a large flock of avocets were feeding on the slobby

mud-flats--these the _pateros_ assured us had just arrived, which

probably was the case. Once, by night, we recognized the well-known note

of the green-shank, and at intervals a green sandpiper would spring from

some muddy pool. Beyond the fringe of rushes stood sedate herons; here

and there a party of storks, and further out still, the flamingoes,

whose rosy ranks impart a thoroughly southern character to the scene.

There was, therefore, no lack of bird-life, though many of the more

interesting species were gone. Amidst the feathered population,

apparently unnoticing and unnoticed by all, the Marsh-Harriers

ceaselessly wheel and drift. After watching them for hours we have never

seen them take a bird on the wing, or pursue anything at all, unless

wounded. Now and then a harrier would pounce fiercely upon some

object--we could not see what--among the rushes, and remain poised on

outstretched wings for some minutes, evidently struggling with some

victim--perhaps a frog or wounded bird--and then quietly resume his

hunting. The Hen-Harrier in dry seasons we frequently observe while

snipe-shooting--now, the few seen were all on the dry plains, and not on

the marisma.

One day, towards the end of January, while endeavouring to circumvent

the greylags, we fell in with a pack of some forty Sand-Grouse--the

Pintailed species--_Pterocles alchata_. They were intensely wild, and at

the end of two hours' stalking, the end of the operation seemed as far

off as ever. One point in our favour was that the _Gangas_ had a strong

haunt at that flat, sandy spit--perhaps it was the only ground suitable

to their habits that remained uncovered by water. At any rate, they

refused to leave it entirely, and though at times the pack would soar

away up into the blue heavens till lost to sight, and we could only

follow their course by the harsh croaking notes, yet they invariably

returned, descending direct to earth with superb abruptnesses, headlong

as a shower of falling stars. At length patience and perseverance

prevailed, and a couple of raking shots produced just half a score,

seven males and three females. Some of the former were already assuming

the black throat of spring-time, but otherwise they were all in full

winter-dress, the males having few, or none, of the large pale yellow

spots that, later on, adorn their backs and scapulars, and both sexes

being paler and less vivid in colouring than at the vernal season.

The carriage of these birds when on the ground is very game-like and

sprightly; they sit half-upright, like a pigeon, and on our final

(successful) approach we observed several of them lying down on their

sides nestling in the warm sand. Their flight resembles that of golden

plover, but is bolder, and the narrow black bordering to the under-wing

is conspicuous when passing near. At times, when high in air, they might

be mistaken for teal. We found them excellent eating; their crops

contained small seeds and shoots of the samphire and other bog-plants;

their flesh is dark brown throughout (that of _Syrrhaptes paradoxus_ is

half white, like a blackcock), and was as tender and well-flavoured as

that of a grouse. The Spanish name of "_ganga_," signifying a bargain,

goes to corroborate this opinion.

At length our sojourn amidst these desolate scenes came to its close.

The pack-mules set out, literally, by the way of the wilderness, while

we took a longer route by the shore for a final attempt on the ducks,

and had a pretty _finale_ to our sport. A pack of forty mallards were

descried, and as the _cabrestos_ drew up to the deadly range, there

caught the writer's eye what might have been a bed of stones amongst

some rushes, but which were in fact a fine spring of teal huddled

together as close as they could sit. Towards these, when the signal to

open fire was given, one gun directed his cartridges, while the other

remained faithful to the _patos reales_. The result, seven mallards and

eleven teal, was a satisfactory climax to a pleasant campaign under

adverse conditions. For if heavy shots were scarce, the scenes and

sounds we have feebly endeavoured to describe--the clouds of ducks

and geese, the soaring flight of the harriers, or graceful forms of a

passing trip of pintails, the stately flamingoes, or the bark of an

eagle overhead--all these are essentially exotic--they breathe the

spirit of wild Spain, and are full of fascination to a naturalist.

[Illustration: Plate XLIX.

"THE FAREWELL SHOT."

Page 382.]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXXIV.

WILDFOWLING IN THE WILDERNESS.

II.--A DRY SEASON (FLIGHT-SHOOTING).