For days the report had reached us of the myriads of aquatic birds that

had settled in the marisma. The keepers at the distant Retuerta had

passed the word along to those nearer the boundary, and from these the

news was transmitted by boatmen to our factotum at San Lucar. Every day

the exhortation to come became more and more urgent--"come at once, or

in a few days the geese will have devoured every blade of aquatic weed,

every green thing that remains, and will perforce be obliged to shift to

other quarters." But come we could not. The 29th November was the day

previously fixed for opening the campaign, and to cross the Guadalquivir

before that date was not possible. Some of our party were coming out by

P. and O. to Gibraltar, others by the quicker route of the _Sud_

express. With that malignant perversity of fate that ever seems to

snatch from us the realization of one's ideal, we had, this year, fixed

the day a week too late.

Mid-November was already past; autumn had given place to winter, yet not

a drop of rain had fallen. Since the scorching days of summer the

fountains of heaven had been stayed, and now the winter wildfowl from

the north were pouring in only to find the marisma as hard and arid as

the deserts of Arabia Petræa. They found not what they sought--instinct

was at fault. True to their appointed season came the dark clouds of

pintail, teal, and wigeon, the long skeins of grey geese; but where in

other years they had revelled in shallows rich in aquatic vegetation,

now the travellers find in their stead a calcined plain devoid of all

that is attractive to the tastes of their tribe. For the parched-up

soil, whose life-blood has been drained by the heats of the summer

solstice, whose plant-life is burnt up, remains panting all the autumn

through for the precious moisture that comes not. The carcases of cattle

and horses that have died of thirst and lack of pasturage strew the

plains; the winter-sown wheat is dead ere germination is complete.

In such years of drought many of the newly-arrived wildfowl--especially

pintails--pass on southwards (into Africa) not to return till February;

but numbers crowd into the few places where the precious

element--water--still exists. Such a spot is the Retuerta; and along its

ten-mile length of tasselled sedge and 30-foot bamboo are concentrated

such hosts of wildfowl as seldom entrance the sportsman's eye. In this

favoured nook in distant Andalucia let us now live again a few of those

eventful days.

At length our party of ten guns are assembled in the shooting-box. Never

before, at this season, have we ridden those thirty miles across so

thirsty a land. Vasquez and his _confrères_ received us

reproachfully--Why have we not come sooner? But are all the geese gone?

_Hay, hay anseres, pero no la decima parte de qué habia_--"there are

some geese," he replies, "but not the tenth part of what there were."

Then a smile came over his Red-Indian countenance, as he added--_pero

todavia hay para divertirse_--"there are yet enough for sport." When

Vasquez reckons there are enough for sport we know that, allowing for

Andalucian exaggeration, there will be hot barrels before the day is

done. What he calls, in his expressive language, a _salpicon_--a

sprinkling, may mean several acres in a flock; a _puñado_, or handful, a

thick mass of several thousand! When he talks of a _tiro regulár_--an

_ordinary_ shot, we know he means about thirty couples of mallards with

one barrel. For Vasquez has striven for a living, as his fathers did

before him, with the ducks of these wilds; and when he _did_ let off his

ponderous blunderbuss it was at very close quarters, and meant

execution. Quantity was his desideratum, for he had to make a large bag

for little money, depending on others to realize his spoils in the

distant market, and, as usual, much of the hard-earned coin stayed in

the hands of middlemen. Thus Vasquez, with other marsh-men, was tempted

by our offer of a fixed wage, and has for years been keeper on the

marisma, where his reed-thatched _choza_ is barely visible amidst waving

sedges and bulrushes hard by the most favoured haunts of his aquatic

charges. Vasquez cannot tell you who is Prime Minister at Madrid, and

cares not whether England may wish to surrender Gibraltar to Spain; but

he _can_ tell you whither that pack of duck, like a small cloud on the

horizon, is hurrying to alight; he can point out to you the birds fresh

come from the north, as distinguished from earlier arrivals, as he can

also tell you when ducks, which, to the uninitiated, appear quite happy

and content, are packing up, and will be gone with the morning's light.

He will take you where the snipe are in hundreds when you have searched

their favourite haunts in vain; and will place you at dusk, if you have

faith in him and wait till sunset, where the greylags will pass within

ten yards. So Vasquez is a useful man, though he knows nothing of the

great world outside of the Retuerta. We felt, nevertheless, that we were

a week too late, and had perhaps lost the best chance of a century.

The plan of campaign was to line the northern end of the marsh for some

five or six miles, placing a gun in each one of certain selected spots.

For this purpose, large casks are sunk at intervals, some well hidden

among rushes, others in open pools; but in these latter cases the tubs

were cunningly concealed by cut tamarisks and other water-plants.

[Illustration]

To place the guns in their respective tubs, extending over six miles of

bog, and the nearest tub almost the same distance from our quarters, is

a lengthy operation, necessitating a very early start. Long before dawn

we were in the saddle. Dark and rough at first was the ride just

preceding that impressive change--the lifting of night's mantle from

the earth. Gradually grew these first rays, and soon the whole east was

aglow, gleaming across parched plains, as the glorious morn awakened. To

the enticing oasis of the Retuerta pushed forward the long cavalcade,

but the sun was high ere all the strategical points could be

simultaneously occupied. For it was arranged that each gunner should

advance at a given signal to his post, and that no shot should be fired

till all were in position. Of the difficulties and dangers in reaching

those points, through marsh and quaking bog, we will not stop to speak;

at length all were in place, and ducks already streamed overhead within

half gunshot while we awaited the signal to open. Then from the distant

land a shot resounded, and simultaneously, all along our line, rang out

a merry fusillade; here comes my first chance, a pack of wigeon,

straight for the tub. A bright-winged drake paid first tribute, and two

more from "the brown" fall to the left. As fast as cartridges can be

slipped into the breech they are required, and two guns are kept going

continuously--now at a swinging flight of teal or swift garganey,[70]

then at the more stately pintails, next at a single shoveler-drake on

his straight and hurried course. Now the ten-bore is useful for a string

of mallards which are already seeking safer altitudes, and for a couple

of curlews, for once at fault. But we need not recapitulate, even were

it possible to remember, the rapid sequence of shots, which for an hour

were almost continuous. Shots of every kind there offered--incoming,

outgoing, to right and left, direct or oblique, and at every height and

angle, acute, obtuse, and perpendicular. Now a flight of wigeon,

skimming low on the water-level, suddenly fling themselves in one's

face, all unseen till far too near; then from behind, with a rush as of

a whirlwind, a trip of swift-winged teal or swifter garganeys almost

take one's hat off, then "sky" like rockets, on seeing the

danger--difficult to stop are these! At intervals, there is a variation,

when, during the earlier part of the action, the files of grey geese are

seen and heard as they sail along, looming so huge among the smaller

fowl. They are not too high as, outward-bound, they cross our posts; but

let them get _well_ over-head, as near as ever they will come, ere you

open fire, or no mighty splash in the water behind will gratify your

ear. The bulk of the shooting, however, is at files of duck speeding

fast and straight in bee-lines overhead: high as a rule, mostly _very_

high, the sort of shot that, once learnt, can be generally pulled

off--and satisfactory shots they are, requiring an infinite degree of

_faith_ and forward allowance.

At the end of an hour the file-firing slackened, but still for another

hour it continued fairly fast. The larger ducks and the geese had

betaken themselves to the sea, or to the dried marisma respectively; but

great numbers of wigeon and the smaller ducks still sought

resting-places up and down the long Retuerta. Of the geese but few

comparatively had fallen, though thousands were seen in air. Hardly had

the firing commenced than these betook themselves to the dry marisma

where they made shift to feed on the roots of the _castanuela_

(spear-grass). This circumstance, however, was foreseen, and troubled us

little; it is the geese _coming in_ that offer sport, not the geese

going out, and we well knew that before night they would be needing a

cool draught at the pools of Retuerta.

At the end of two hours, the writer left his battery to collect his

spoils; a goodly pile of ducks, besides three geese and two flamingoes,

though perhaps not in due proportion to the heap of emptied cartridges.

About a quarter-mile away lay the shore, to which, during the mid-day

interlude, I made my way through water, mud, and matted tamarisk. The

nearer strand, where cattle had cropped the rush, was alive with snipe,

while amidst the heavier covert beyond, numbers of teal had sought

asylum. With these, and passing ducks, there was plenty of employment,

and at the end of an hour, when it was necessary to flounder back to the

battery, I had exhausted my cartridges and formed sundry piles of

slain--in all nineteen ducks, two geese (right and left) and over twenty

snipe, besides a bittern and a few "various."

[Illustration]

The sun was now lowering, and the return of the geese might be looked

for. I had started none too soon on the return "plodge," for with the

heavy walking and yet heavier burden, I had hardly ensconced myself in

my battery ere the welcome konk! konk! was audible, and some twenty

greylags came gliding in. Straight for the sunken tub they held their

course, and not till almost overhead did they descry the lurking gun.

Then with redoubled flaps they swerved off, changing the downward

gliding flight for an upward movement; but, though for a moment they

hung in air, yet, somehow, it took both barrels ere the leader

collapsed. Shot after shot at what appeared a fatal range failed to stop

them _clean_, and I decided to let the next come in even nearer. This

time only three came drifting down. They passed within shot, but I

refrained; wheeled round the pool, and headed straight in; there was no

mistake this time--the geese were not twenty yards off, and two of the

three fell stone-dead. I breathed more freely now; and let the geese

come in to a range that for any other fowl would be _too near_, holding

even then well forward, and sundry heavy thuds on the darkening waters

attested the success of these waiting tactics, and registered the death

of another greylag or bean-goose. These latter came in singly, or in

twos and threes, and are distinguishable by their harsher note and

rather smaller size; the greylags average eight pounds, some old ganders

turning the scale at ten. Every minute it became more difficult to see;

night was closing in apace, but with it came more and more geese. The

rattle of gunshots and rustling of strong pinions was incessant--hardly

had one gone down than another flight swept in. At last the geese came

silently; the call-note which during daylight announced their approach

was now no longer uttered, and they drifted so fast on to the water that

one only became aware of their arrival by the heavy ploughing splash as

they alighted. Presently only those that came low against the dying

after-glow in the west could be seen at all, and after a shot one had to

listen for the splash that bespoke a kill. Gunshots now became fewer, a

mere dropping fire, and in a few minutes more even this shooting at

ghosts became no longer possible. Then came the splashing of horses, and

I knew that Caraballo was coming to look for me, and a good line he took

in the dark and featureless morass.

[Illustration: GREYLAGS--DAYBREAK.]

Half an hour later we were beginning to assemble at the bonfire of

blazing samphire-bushes which had been lighted as a beacon to gather

around. The day ended with a slight _contretemps_: one of our party with

his servant was missing. No answer could be obtained to our signals: nor

on our arrival at the lodge were the lost ones there. Though there could

be no danger, yet it would be most unpleasant for our friend to pass the

night in the wilds without food or shelter. At ten o'clock keepers were

despatched to scour the country, but it was four hours later ere Manuel

(at 2 A.M.) returned with the luckless wanderers in charge. They had

mistaken our beacon, and had steered for what proved to be a

charcoal-burning miles away.

When the tale of slain had been told off, and Vasquez brought in the

totals as 81 geese and over 300 ducks (besides sundries) for the day, we

were inclined to forget those unresponsive greylags, and to imagine

that, for flight-shooting, with 12-bores, at passing fowl, such results

were not to be obtained every day, nor in every land.[71]

Three other field-days followed with the wildfowl, besides two

interludes with small-game, and a two-days snipe-shoot along the remote

Rocina, which produced 353 snipe,[72] a few duck, teal, bitterns, and

sundries: and, when these happy days were over, the total score stood:--

713 ducks.

247 wild geese.

402 snipe.

15 woodcock.

161 partridge.

8 quail.

36 rabbits.

7 hares.

9 bitterns.

44 sundries.

Among "sundries" were included common and ruddy sheldrakes, gadwall and

garganey, marbled ducks (a few), common and white-eyed pochards

(several), many coots, an egret, stilts, and a pair of oyster-catchers.

AN ARCTIC WINTER IN SOUTHERN SPAIN.

Never in our experience of well-nigh a quarter of a century had such

extremes of cold been known in this sunny land as those of December,

1890. Nor will the destruction wrought by that phenomenal winter be

remedied for many a long year, as brown and blasted oliveyards, and

thousands of acres of orange-groves, almost every tree cut back to the

bole and grafted as a last resource, bear testimony.

Here, in a sporting sense, is the report of that winter, and its effects

on fowl and fowling. _December 8th_, 1890.--Not a drop of rain fell this

year till the 2nd inst., and the conditions for sport appeared as

favourable as those of last year (already described above). Cold as

Siberia was our ride to Vasquez's _choza_ (November 28), in the teeth of

the bitter east wind which swept across the dry marisma, and cut into

our very marrow.

[Illustration: Plate L.

REDSHANKS.

Page 393.]

_Valiente helada va caer este noche!_ say the keepers, and verily a

terrible frost _did_ fall that night: for when Caraballo awakened us at

six in the morning, the poor fellow's teeth chattered, his limbs shook,

and he declared that never before had _Dios_ made so cold a morning.

My luck favoured me for once, and by lot, No. 5 was placed by the deeps

of "El Jondon," flanked by miles of bamboo and cane-brakes of tropical

dimensions. The oozes were covered with ice, at first so thick as almost

to bear the horses; but as the water deepened, the ice broke and cut

their fetlocks; so we had to seek our posts on foot, dry shot for the

first time on record. It fell to me to fire the signal-shot, so I took

an opportunity of sending to speedy end just nine teal with the two

barrels. I had never before held the luckiest number; to-day I was in

the _flor_ and the _nata_ of the fray; it will give some idea of the

character of the sport this day that, at times, it was desirable to

decline _all_ offers from the duck-tribe, and to reserve one's

attention, and cartridges, exclusively for the geese.

The solid ice around my battery lent a novel feature to experiences of

wild sport in Spain. The ducks, even heavy mallard and pintail,

rebounded from the ice-bound surface; and a goose, falling obliquely,

also slid for twenty yards before remaining still. No ducks broke the

frozen coverlet; but geese came crashing down through the ice, each

making itself a captive in its own chasm. I was soon surrounded by these

ice-bound prisoners, bringing down, during the day, over thirty

greylags, besides some eighty ducks. Many of these, however, fell in the

tall canes and reed-brakes behind, and as we shot till well after dark,

it was impossible to gather all--even of the dead. The whole bag, which,

had the shooting been uniform, should have been much greater, amounted

to 363 ducks and 72 geese, besides snipe and 39 "various."

A note on the subsequent movements of the wildfowl may be an appropriate

complement to this chapter. During the severe weather of December, most

of the ducks disappeared. At the New Year comparatively few remained,

and a second shoot resulted, as regards wildfowl, in failure. This,

however, did not greatly disturb us--other game demanded attention, and

we knew our web-footed friends had only bid us _au revoir_. "They will

return at the end of February," asserted Vasquez; and return they did,

to find the sunken tubs at El Jondon and along the cane-brakes of

Quebrantiero again "occupied in force"--once more along the line rang

out a fusillade.

The transit of the aquatic birds to and from Africa often presents

remarkable spectacles. During several days at this season

(February--March), while cruising in the Straits, the sea has been

sprinkled in every direction--both Atlantic and Mediterranean--with

bands of duck coming off from the African shore and skimming low on the

waves on a northerly or north-westerly course. They do not proceed

direct to the Far North, but linger for some days on the Spanish side.

Here, early in March, their numbers almost equalled those of November;

that is of ducks, for the geese had almost entirely withdrawn. On March

5th clouds of wigeon gyrated at vast altitudes--mere specks in the upper

air, while others assembled, massed together in hordes on the water,

_echando corros para irse_--arranging travelling parties, as Vasquez

puts it: sure signs both, of the coming change. By March 10th fully

four-fifths had disappeared; while on the 15th scarcely a duck of all

their thousands remained, except of those species which habitually nest

in Spain--_e.g._, mallards, sheld-ducks, &c., or which come there in

spring expressly for that purpose, such as the white-eyed pochards,

marbled and white-fronted ducks, and the like.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE STANCHION-GUN IN SPAIN.

During wet winters in Spain, when marismas and submerged marshes form

miniature seas, the customary methods of wildfowling are no longer of

any avail. Opportunities of employing the _cabresto_ are few and far

between: while flight-shooting on an area indefinitely extended is

profitless and uncertain to the last degree. But the marismas, with

their myriads of winter wildfowl, appeared to offer, during such

seasons, an exceptional--indeed an ideal field for the use of the

gunning-punt, and stanchion-gun.

During the wet winter of 1887-8, when we were constrained helplessly to

contemplate floating flotillas, all, in effect, inaccessible to our

guns--these tantalizing spectacles urged us to seek "some new thing." A

gunning-punt with its artillery appeared to be the one thing needed, and

with it, we felt confident that from fifty to a hundred duck might often

be secured at a shot. Accordingly, in the autumn of that year (1888), we

sent out from England boat, gun, and gear--in short, the complete

equipment for "the wildfowler afloat."

The little craft duly reached the Guadalquivir in September; but here an

unexpected difficulty arose. The Spanish custom-house took alarm. True,

the little vessel was an entire novelty and an innovation; even in the

Millwall Docks she had created some surprise, and here, she was

incomprehensible. No such vessel had ever before floated on Spanish

waters, and the official mind took time to consider. That oracle, after

several weeks of cogitation, ordered the removal of the tiny craft from

the obscure port of Bonanza to the full light of the custom-house at

Seville. Here, after many more weeks of delay, it was solemnly declared

that that white-painted six-foot barrel was "an arm of war"; that "the

combination of boat and gun savoured of the mechanism of war"; and,

lastly, that "the boat could not be permitted to pass the Customs until

it had been _registered at the Admiralty_ as a ship of war," thus

forming an integral part of the Imperial navy of Spain.

[Illustration]

We were informed, in reply to a respectful protest, that a high official

of the Admiralty at Madrid--the Deputy Chief Constructor, we think, was

his title--would "shortly" be visiting the arsenal at San Fernando,

where a new war-ship was nearly ready for launching, and that he would

then take the opportunity of inspecting our impounded gunboat at

Seville.

The measurements of this "British Armada" were: length over all, 22

feet, breadth of beam, 3 feet 6 inches, by 9 inches depth of hold; her

armament a gun of eighty pounds weight, throwing sixteen ounces of shot.

Not a very formidable vessel, yet a hostile fleet off Malaga would

hardly have aroused more official fuss.

Six or seven months elapsed before these difficulties were smoothed

away, as difficulties in Spain, or elsewhere, do dissolve when prudently

and properly treated; but the wildfowling season was over, the ducks had

disappeared, ere the "Boadicea" was released from official durance and

allowed to proceed to the scene of action.

The first obstacle was now surmounted, but a second, and more

insuperable difficulty arose, one which forms the real "pith" of the

present chapter. From the first our local wildfowlers reported badly of

the new craft; her trial cruises were not satisfactory, for, while the

_pateros_ experienced no difficulty in approaching the less wary birds,

such as flamingoes, herons, and the like, yet ducks of no sort could be

outmanoeuvred; at any rate not on the open waters. On the return of

the ducks in autumn following, the fowlers still reported that they

found the large packs wholly inaccessible, nor could they secure more

than a paltry half-dozen or so at a shot.

These reports, however, did not disturb us greatly; we attributed the

failure of the _pateros_ to lack of experience and technical knowledge

in handling the "Boadicea"; for, despite their skill in fowling, the art

of working a big gun afloat was one of which they could know nothing. It

was, therefore, with unabated confidence that the writer embarked on

board the trim, light craft, and shoved off on his first Spanish

punt-gunning campaign.

An exhilarating prospect lay before us; nowhere in British seas could

such aggregations of wildfowl be seen, nor so favourable a spot be

found: there was no tide or current to fight against, no deeps where one

loses bottom, no hidden shoals nor shifting sand-banks to bar one's

course; and, as too often happens in our tidal waters at home, to snatch

success from one's grasp in the very moment of its realization.

[Illustration]

No; here we had smooth shallow water, uniform in depth, practically

stagnant, and with a firm level bed of mud. And everywhere on its

surface, and in the clear atmosphere above, floated or flew those wild

and graceful forms so dear to a fowler's eye--the duck-tribe in endless

variety. Half a mile away, the opposite shores of the sound, the Lucio

de los Caballeros, were dark with multitudes of duck: fresh files kept

streaming in to alight among their fellows, and at intervals the roar of

wings, as some bird of prey put their battalions in motion, resounded

like the rumble of thunder. Close overhead hovered graceful Little Gulls

(_Larus minutus_), adults whose dark under-wing contrasted with the

snowy breast, others in the marbled plumage of immaturity. As the punt

shot forward, hidden amidst islanded clumps of rush and sedge, we

passed, almost within arm's-length, the weird-looking grebes and

singular long-legged stilts in every posture of repose and

security--more rarely in those of suspicion. Rather farther away waded

half a dozen spoonbills, revolving on their axis at each forward step in

their peculiar fashion; a purple heron or two, and sedate storks seeking

a feast of frogs. A pack of avocets swept by in chattering flight: ruffs

and redshanks, green sandpipers, and others of that class, with whole

troops of plovers, splashed and preened in the shallows. All these we

passed silently by. Even a "bunch" of the beautiful garganey teal would

not tempt us this morning, for ambition soared high.

Gradually we stole round the flank of the ducks--a long way off, for it

was necessary to save the wind and get to leeward. In this we succeeded,

and there now only remained between us and the black streak that

represented thousands of keen eyes, some 300 yards of open water: surely

no very formidable obstacle with a well-handled craft. So we thought,

and so a fair experience of ducks and their ways at home justified us in

thinking. Alas! for misplaced confidence: hardly had our bows shot clear

of the last sheltering fringe of rush than the nearer birds began to

rise, and spread the alarm through the deep ranks beyond. Quickly the

danger-signal was communicated to the furthest outposts: the roar of

wings increased, and in a few seconds the whole mass lifted off the

water as one might lift a carpet by the corner--not a living thing

remained afloat, while the heavens grew dark with quivering pinions and

gyrating clouds, and resonant with a babel of bird-music.

Thus ended the first attempt in conspicuous failure; and a second,

third, and fourth shared a like fate: we were never within measurable

distance of succeeding, and began to realize that what our native

fowlers had reported was only too near the truth. It is fair to add that

Vasquez's handling of the punt, after a few preliminary trials, left

little to be desired; his aptitude for the new work was surprising. He

held a capital course, steered accurately to signal, and got a "way" on

the boat that would have satisfied Hawker.

The very numbers of the ducks proved, to some extent, a safeguard; the

smaller packs could occasionally be outmanoeuvred under cover of some

reed-bed--but this only with thirties, forties, or fifties; the area

covered by the larger bodies outflanked even the most extensive

_juncales_. On the open water we have never yet succeeded (though we

have tried a hundred times) to approach these main armies of duck, and

believe now that it cannot be done. Why this should be so is another

question, and a curious one. The nature of the duck-tribe is the same in

Spain as in England: wherever they are found they are among the wildest

and most wary of birds. Here, however, we had them in numbers surpassing

anything we have seen on British waters, and frequenting, too, a region

which seemed pre-eminently adapted for the use of punt and big gun. Yet

we found them, on the desolate Spanish marismas, many-fold more

inaccessible to a punt than on the harassed and heavily-shot harbours of

England. The only reason we can suggest is that, these waters never

being traversed by boats of any kind, the fowl are inclined to avoid a

gunning-punt as readily as they do a human being.[73]

The impossibility of obtaining a good shot by fair means being

demonstrated, as a final resource we laid up the punt among the sedges,

at a point where the fowl were wont to congregate. Here, at the end of

two hours, we had about a thousand birds before the gun: wigeon,

shovelers, and a few garganey, all mixed, with about a score of pintails

and three or four gadwall; but, whether purposely or by accident, they

kept at very long range from our sedgy shelter, and when at last, owing

to a leaky seam and evening coming on, we were obliged to risk a long

shot, only some six or eight duck were secured.

[Illustration: Plate LI.

"A HUNDRED AT A SHOT--NOW OR NEVER."

Page 400.]

[Illustration: "THE BITER AND THE BIT."]

To complete this sketch of Spanish punt-gunning, we will briefly narrate

the incidents of two other days' sport, as follows:--_February 28th._

Started at daybreak, taking both the punt and a _cabresto_ pony. The

first shot was at eleven teal, of which eight fell to the two barrels

(12-bore); the second shot realized seven more teal and a marsh-harrier.

The latter capture afforded rather a curious incident: six teal lay

dead, the seventh, being a lively cripple (which could fly some

distance), I sent Vergara after him in the punt, while we proceeded

along-shore with the pony. A large hawk, however, had at once "spotted"

the cripple, and an exciting chase ensued--the hawk making stoop after

stoop, the teal as often escaping by diving. But the dives grew shorter

and shorter, and at last we observed that the bird of prey had

prevailed, for he remained suspended betwixt wind and water and was

evidently making good his hold. Then with heavy flight he bore his

burden straight towards where we crouched, watching, behind the pony,

and settled on the shore. Him we then approached in the customary way,

and as the fierce-looking _aguilucho_ stood on his victim, crushing out

what remained of life, a charge of No. 4 secured both the _biter_ and

the _bit_.

Harriers are so numerous in the open marisma that four or five may often

be seen at once, slowly drifting about over the waste, and marvellous is

the speed with which they detect a disabled fowl. With a lively cripple,

it is often a race between the human and the feathered raptor for rights

of possession, and in flight-shooting the wounded are carried off under

one's very eyes.

After another _cabresto_-shot, which added ten wigeon to the bag, we

reached the broad Arroyo de la Madre, which was "paved" with wildfowl in

numbers that we cannot estimate. Mere numerals convey nothing--unless it

be a suspicion of exaggeration--and any other attempt would only involve

the use of inadmissible superlatives. Suffice to say that for leagues

that broad water was a living carpet of birds. We now entrusted our

fortunes to the "Boadicea" and her big gun. The boat lay near the

junction of a creek with the main channel; the nearer water was dotted

with teal, garganey, and wigeon; a little further off, the white livery

of the shovelers was conspicuous, and beyond again, with the glasses, we

could distinguish, among acres of wigeon, a sprinkling of pintails,

gadwall, and a few white-eyed pochard and mallard. On the slob-land in

front, fed nine spoonbills; a small herd of flamingoes on the left, and

near them a grey line of geese, whose sonorous clamour was

distinguishable above the medley of bird-notes. Ducks, however, of all

kinds are silent enough by day.

Once more the punt proved a failure. No sooner had she emerged from the

cover of the _armajos_ (samphire), than the nearer teal and wigeon began

swimming out, scattering away to right and left in lines all radiating

from the focus of alarm. Ere anything like fair range was reached, not

a single solid point presented itself to our aim. Opportunities there

were to kill, say, a dozen or more, but these paltry chances were

declined without second thought. In the result, some two or three hours'

careful work--"flattened" on our chests all the time--were not rewarded

by a single shot from the big gun.

Towards evening we observed flights of duck--chiefly wigeon--pouring in

constant streams towards some low mud-islets which afforded cover for

approach. Behind these we lay for an hour, awaiting the gloaming, but

the short southern twilight proved a serious obstacle. In the few

minutes occupied in "shoving out" from our shelter towards the floating

phalanxes in front (we had awaited the last possible moment) the light

had disappeared, and it became impossible to distinguish objects _on the

water_, though those in _air_ were yet clear enough. There were, we

knew, hundreds of ducks before the gun; but the shot--like nine-tenths

of those fired at haphazard--was a failure. Fifteen wigeon and two

pintails lay dead; the cripples, if any, it was impossible to recover in

the gloom; and we sadly started to "pole" the long leagues homewards,

reflecting on the singular uncertainty of sports mundane.

This day thus realized 42 ducks--17 to the punt and 25 to the

_cabresto_: though, had we followed the latter system alone, the total

would have been much heavier, while every available chance was given to

the punt-gun, which never, _until after dark_, produced a feather.

As a contrast we will briefly outline the results of our next day's

shooting, employing the trained pony alone. The artillery used was a

single 4-bore and a double 12: six shots were fired, and the net result

was 82 duck, besides minor spoils. The day was perhaps more favourable,

since, March having now commenced, the fowl were congregating into those

closely-packed _corros_, or hordes, which mark the preliminary stage to

departure. Thus, one broadside to-day realized 32 wigeon, and another

should have done better, but for a "hang-fire." Still there was nothing

exceptional about the day's results. We have often much exceeded the

total named, but select this particular day merely because it followed

in immediate sequence to that last described.[74]

Since writing the above, the experience of two more winters has served

to confirm its correctness. From a dozen or fifteen up to twenty ducks

may occasionally be secured at a shot, but the huge bodies of wildfowl

on open water remain actually inaccessible, and the visions of heavy

shots--80 or 100--of which we had dreamed, no longer disturb our

midnight slumbers.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Plate LII.

LA MARISMILLA--A SHOOTING MORNING.

Page 405.]

CHAPTER XXXVI.

DEER-DRIVING IN THE PINE FORESTS.

MY FIRST STAG.

By a rush-girt glade in the heart of the _pinales_, or pine-region,

stands the lonely shooting-lodge of La Marismilla. The sombre forests

which surround it are a chief stronghold of the Spanish red deer, which

find shelter in the abundant underwood and rich pasturage in the grassy

dells. The wild pig prefers the more isolated thickets which lie towards

the outskirts of the forest.

The system generally adopted for shooting the forest-deer is "driving."

The sylvan geography of these great areas of pines, devoid to a stranger

of landmark, point, or path, is intimately known to the foresters, who

mentally map out the whole into sections for the purpose of the

_batida_, or drive. The exact boundaries of each section vary, of

course, from day to day in accordance with the wind; for the red deer is

gifted with a fine sense of smell, and instantly detects the human

presence when "betwixt the wind and his nobility." Perhaps the readiest

means of conveying an idea of this sport of forest-driving will be to

relate the vicissitudes that befell the writer before succeeding in

bagging his first stag.

My first _puesto_, or post, was in the face of a sand-ridge clad with

tall pines, and there were, I think, three guns on my right, four on the

left. All these, even my nearest neighbours (200 yards away), were of

course invisible amidst the broken ground and masses of brushwood which

intervened; and their positions were only approximately indicated by

sundry long lines traced in the sandy soil by the gun-stock of the old

forester, Juan Espinal, before leaving me at my post. These lines served

to indicate both the positions of the adjoining guns, and also the

limits _within which_ a shot might not be fired. It is obviously a

paramount necessity in this class of shooting never to shoot

_forward_--_i.e._, into the beat; the game must be allowed to pass right

through and well clear of the line before a shot can be thought of: a

circumstance which adds vastly to the difficulty of placing one's

bullets on the right spot.

The first thing when one is left alone in the solitude of the forest is

to survey carefully one's field of action, to consider all possible

contingencies, and prepare accordingly; the most essential point being

so to place oneself as to see without being seen.[75] My first

impression, in this case, was one of wonder as to where I could possibly

place a bullet at all. My post, as already mentioned, was in the face of

a ridge, or rather in a hillock forming part of the ridge, and having a

deep pass on either hand. Thus the receding ground sloped away so as to

disappear from sight just at the entrances of the passes, forty or fifty

yards away. In short, the possible lines of fire intersected the

probable course of the deer, if any came, at exactly the point at which

I should lose sight of them altogether. It was unsafe to move my

position backwards, and in front I could find no convenient cover; so

returning to my allotted post, I bethought myself to record my fears,

and plot out the situation in my pocket-book. Then I settled down in the

small redoubt of cut bushes I had put together, and waited. The solitude

of the forest was delicious, and the silence only broken by the gentle

fluttering of some small birds in the pines overhead. Continually there

fell upon and around me small objects from above--it was a party of

hawfinches pelting me with scales of pine-cones, broken off in their

search for seeds. These and the crossbills are shy and wild, and, except

on such occasions when unaware of one's presence, seldom allow of

approach. For half an hour I watched their active movements, the

tree-creepers and fire-crests, and the antics of a small animal, I think

a genet, that was performing fantastic feats on a sunny knoll in front:

meanwhile the distant shouts of the beaters were becoming more distinct,

and at last I thought I could recognize the excited cry of _Ya va! ya

va!_--there he goes! The genet vanished down a burrow, the birds ceased

to pelt me, and a few moments later, to my excited eyes, the whole green

expanse of juniper and heath-scrub before me appeared alive with great

tawny beasts, all bounding forward directly towards my position. As the

deer approached the hillocks I observed that a specially fine stag, with

two smaller ones and some hinds, would pass on my right, while three

more stags were making for the pass on the left. I concentrated all

attention on the first, which slowly trotted past my front within thirty

yards; but, as I had foreseen, had already more than half disappeared

ere he reached the firing point and my bullet sped towards him; then,

turning sharp round, I sent the second barrel at the last of the other

three stags, just bounding from sight into the deep pass on the left.

The results were of course invisible; both were snap-shots, but I

_thought_ I had laid on true, and was musing on the possibilities, more

than half inclined to be ecstatic at having, or believing I had, really

"pulled off" a clean right and left in my first interview with the

Spanish red deer, when a rustling in the brushwood in front disturbed

these happy cogitations, and another stag with three hinds appeared.

They came forward quite slowly, evidently suspicious of danger ahead,

and stopping at intervals to look back towards the noisy beaters. They

rose my hillock at a foot's pace, the stag leading--an

eight-pointer--and at last stood actually within five yards. There was,

in fact, nothing between us but the single pine and the slight

breastwork of bushes I had built up as a screen. The stag stood for

some seconds gazing backwards over his shoulder; then, as he turned to

advance, he caught sight of me crouching beneath the junipers, almost

under his nose--and the bound he took at that instant was a sight to

remember. Away they dashed, all four, straight along the line of guns;

but, turning outwards, shortly after leaving my sight, the stag fell to

the rifle of my next neighbour.

Then the beaters came up, and eagerly we went off to examine the result

of my two shots. Alas! no _ingentia corpora_ lay there, and on following

their tracks for some distance, it was quite clear that both stags had

escaped scatheless. The only relief to deep disappointment was that

little memorandum I had made beforehand, foretelling the catastrophe,

which was indeed more attributable to an ill-judged position than to any

want of care.

Then, shortly afterwards, when I did manage to place my bullet in a fine

stag of fourteen points, a wide and splendid head, the coveted trophy

was again lost to me by the rules of sport, owing to the fact that

another leaden messenger had preceded mine. This stag passed through the

line far to my right, receiving a shot in the stomach as he passed, the

effect being to turn him to me, and he passed at full speed not thirty

yards behind. A ball through the heart rolled him over; but the first

wound, in his left side, was unquestionably fatal. After this, for a

long time, no luck fell to my share; only hinds broke near my _puestos_,

and, though they were most interesting objects, with their timorous

graceful movements, their great supple ears inflected hither and

thither, and large affectionate eyes, which gave me infinite pleasure to

watch, yet they were not available quarry, and passed on unmolested. One

hind, which passed within ten yards, was followed (January 8th) by a

tiny fawn. Occasionally a stag came forward, cautiously feeling his way,

step by step, to make sure of avoiding danger ahead; but these always

managed to detect something in time, and broke back, or passed through

at some other point. One of these stood for some seconds almost within

touch, only a thick bush between us, and others had all but reached the

fatal line ere they changed their course.

One chance, however, I certainly lost by my own fault. A buzzard came

sailing along the pine-tops towards me; I was posted on a small plateau

crowning an isolated hillock, and overlooking a sea of dark green pines.

Promiscuous shooting is, of course, debarred; but the _batida_ was

nearly finished; I had seen the beaters cross a ridge within a

quarter-mile, and determined to have the hawk. Just as the buzzard

approached a fair range, I observed that a good stag had ascended my

hillock, and for some twenty yards ran in full view. Then he dropped

down from sight just before it was possible for me to exchange guns. A

downright bungle! I would fain have hidden my disgrace in silence, but

it is a distressing feature of sport on this tell-tale sandy soil, that

it is impossible to conceal or to mitigate one's "_chambonadas_"--call

them misfortunes. Nothing moves but leaves behind it an indelible mark,

and no mark ever escapes the keen eyes of the forest-guards. "Look

here!" exclaims Anillo, "here has passed a good stag--_aqui ha pasado un

buen venado!_" "why did not his worship fire?" Why indeed!

Some days passed and I began to fear the campaign might close without a

change in my luck. Nor were these deep forests particularly interesting

ornithologically: at first sight they appeared rather devoid of

bird-life--that is in winter: we have often ridden for hours without

seeing more than a few ravens or a kite. Among the thick bushy tops of

the stone-pines were the hawfinches and crossbills, with a few other

species, but these were remarkably shy and difficult of approach. On

afternoons when our "drives" were finished before dark, I took the

opportunity of trying to obtain some of the forest-haunting birds; but

in this a singular difficulty occurred. In Andalucia the sun gives us an

hour or two more of his company than on a winter's day at home. All day

long he shines in a blue and cloudless sky; but when he sets, it is

night. Hardly has his rim sunk behind the distant pines than it is

dark, and the nocturnal concert of frogs and owls has commenced; a

clear, strangely deceptive darkness, for on the ground one cannot see to

shoot a rabbit or a low-flying woodcock, yet overhead it is still light,

and day is prolonged for half an hour more. The sunset effects on the

western skies are gorgeous displays of rich colour, and even in the east

there is a rosy reflection which rapidly fades away.

But there is none of that pleasant half-light we enjoy in our northern

clime. The transition from day to night is startlingly sudden, twilight

lasting only a few minutes. The feathered race is well aware of this and

prepare for the event by going to roost a full half-hour before sundown.

One of the first signs of approaching night is the flight of the ravens.

Perhaps one has not realized the fact that the day is far spent, and is

reminded of it by their dark files slowly crossing the heavens towards

their roosting-places while it is yet broad daylight. The same habit is

observable with the smaller birds. All day long they have been abundant

enough; but during the last half-hour of daylight not one is to be seen,

and when their retreat is eventually found they are buried, some in the

pine-tops, others in thickets of myrtle or lentiscus-scrub--fast asleep

in daylight. Hence these half-hours at dusk produced but little. One

evening, while wandering among the pines, a buzzard dipped down from a

lower branch and silently sped away till a shot in the wing brought him

down. This bird proved to be one of the remarkably handsome pale

varieties of _Buteo vulgaris_, the whole plumage of a warm cream-colour,

slightly mottled and splashed above with dark brown; irides dark and

claws _white_. My brothers (H. and A.) obtained buzzards in somewhat

similar plumage in Germany (adults, shot at the nest) in the spring of

1878, but I have not otherwise met with the variety in Spain, the

Spanish type being generally dark. Waiting on the line of the raven's

flight, I dropped a pair of these birds: and shortly afterwards observed

two very large tawny-coloured eagles flap heavily into a pine, but

failed to approach within shot, or anything like it.

[Illustration: SPANISH GUNS.]

To return to our deer, and the delightful days spent among the pinales,

revelling in the lovely winter weather. Luck at length returned: after a

long day, during which several stags and one pig had been bagged, we

reached a small _mancha_ known as "El Rincon del Cerro Trigo." This was

a small beat, and the last of the day; nor was it expected to be

productive, as our beaters on a former drive must have skirted the outer

edge of the Rincon. My position was on the brink of a steep sand-slope,

perhaps fifty feet in height, its summit level with the tops of the

pines in the _mancha_ below. Outside there stretched away open barrens,

some small _corrales_ alone serving to break the monotony of utter

desolation. Hardly expecting a shot, I was sitting idly under cover of a

bushy pine-top which protruded, half-dead, from the verge of the steep

descent, when a hind mounted the slope and broke close at hand. This

aroused me, and a few seconds later she was followed by two

stags--eight-pointers--slowly crossing out over the open, a lovely shot.

They were only fifty yards off; but, owing to the irregular outline of

the _mancha_, my position was somewhat embayed, and it was necessary to

give the stags extra law to clear that part of our line which bent

backwards. I watched them traverse nearly fifty yards ere a shot was

permissible, and by that time they were partly hidden from view among

some slight hummocks. Any dead cistus or remnant of a sand-submerged

pine collects around it that shifting substance, and half-hidden amidst

these my stags were trotting forward when I gave them my double salute.

Both went on, but on emerging from the hummocks, the larger beast was

clearly hard-hit, though they continued cantering down the sloping

ground, and two more bullets at long range only raised little puffs from

the ground beyond. I knew I was sure of this stag; and a few minutes

later a finer beast emerged, the ivory tips of his antlers shining white

in the evening sunlight. Him, I resolved, I must have, and never was gun

laid on with more intense desire. The distance would be some eighty to

one hundred yards, and the stag treated the advent of two bullets with

what looked very like indifference, galloping off at top speed, despite

a third salute from the express ambushed on my right. I watched him away

to the edge of a small _corral_ half a mile off, and in which the two

first stags had sought a retreat. But it was all over with him--poor

beast, his course was run, and his tracks plainly told the tale to those

who could read--though I must admit I was not one of them. The _rastro_

of the first stag showed big blood-clouts almost from the shot, and he

was easily secured close by where he had disappeared from view. The

second was far less distinct; indeed, no sign of a "hit" was discerned

till just before reaching the distant _corral_. Here the faint trace,

tiny drops of blood, all enveloped in sand, quite indiscernible to my

eye, were instantly detected by the _guardas_. The dogs were laid on,

and within a few minutes we heard the crash which told of the stag at

bay. The final scene was just completed when I reached the spot--on

foot, for in the rough scramble through forest and broken ground I had

managed to get thrown, gun and all, and preferred to finish the pursuit

on my legs. The first ball had passed through the ribs, rather far

back; the second ("express") had entered his stern. The first stag was

also shot through the "lisk"--not brilliant performances, perhaps! but I

had got my two stags, the first carrying nine points, the second a

shapely wild head of eleven: and, since those days, we have now and then

succeeded in placing the rifle-ball in more orthodox positions.[76]

Quite the finest hart of this campaign fell on the same beat--a superb

head of fifteen points, having extremely broad and massive horns, though

of no special size of body. Total bag for the day: eight stags (two

royals) and two wild pig.

[Illustration: THE ELEVEN-POINTER.]

[Illustration: A FIFTEEN-POINTER.]

* * * * *

As a sequel to the above, it may be interesting to annex the following

diploma of the "Royal and distinguished Order of Mae Corra," conferred

upon the writer shortly after the events narrated. Our readers may

translate it or leave it at their own risk.

Por cuanto Don A---- B---- C----, vecino de Inglaterra ha hecho

digno del distintivo que usan los cazadores de la Real y

Distinguida Orden de la Mae Corra, matando por primera vez un

venado de nueve puntas en la Mancha de Cerro del Trigo Coto de Dª

Ana partido de la Marismilla termino de Almonte el 12 de Enero,

1878.

Yo D. Carlos Fernandez Brescaglia, Decano de los cazadores de esta

ciudad suficientemente autorizado expido el presente Diploma para

que el referido Don A---- B---- C---- pueda usar libremente el

mencionado distintivo que debe ser en un todo conforme al modelo

adjunto.

Dado en San Lucar de Barrameda el 17 de Enero de 1878.

El Decano,

(Signed) CARLOS FERNANDEZ BRESCAGLIA.

El Secretario,

(Signed) DOMINGO L. DE VILLEGAS.

The insignia referred to represent a couple of stags' antlers,

locked in mortal combat, with the legend:--

"Ab istis ventis liberet te Deus si maritus es."

[Illustration: "DROPPED IN HIS TRACKS."]

CHAPTER XXXVII.

WINTER IN THE MARSHES.

SNIPE-SHOOTING.

Spanish, _Agachona_, _agachadiza_.

Portuguese, _Narceja_.

The Peninsula has always been famous for its snipe-shooting, but the

sport differs in some ways from that practised on British marsh or moor.

The snipe in Spain does not, as a rule, frequent rushes or other covert.

The Spanish marshes in winter afford scant covert of any kind; hence the

snipe is proportionately wilder. Rarely does the long-bill spring at

close range: the bulk of the bag must be cut down at such distances that

a snipe-shooter at home would very probably decline the offer--without

thanks. But there are exceptions to this. In certain localities,

particularly in Portugal, we have enjoyed excellent snipe-shooting on

wide-spread expanses of rushy marsh and under home conditions. The

rice-stubbles also, in districts where rice is grown, afford perhaps the

finest snipe-shooting, often with abundant covert.

Many of the best snipe-grounds, however, may be described as inundated

pastures. Here the summer-scorched herbage barely hides the naked

earth--or rather fine mud, more slippery than ice. The ground here,

however, is firm; the _deep-mud_ bogs are quite another, but equally

favourite resort. Before one's view there stretches away what appears to

be a verdant meadow, dead level, and clad in rich green grass. Walk out

on it, and you find it is bog, soft as pulp--millions of flat-topped,

quivering tussocks, each separated by narrow intervals of squashy

slime, knee-deep if you are lucky; the tussocks afford no foothold, the

slime no stability--you cannot stand still, yet hardly dare advance.

Before you, behind you, to the right and left, rise snipe in scores--in

clouds: the air resounds with petulant, tantalizing cries. But you

cannot steady yourself for an instant to shoot: to halt on hummock or

balance on mire is equally impossible--not that it matters much, for

hardly a snipe has sprung within fifty yards; the majority at over one

hundred. At length one rises close at hand--a jack, probably--and in a

supreme effort to avenge outraged dignity by his death, equilibrium is

hopelessly lost, and the snipe-shooter slowly sinks to a sitting posture

amidst mire and mud that reaches to his waistcoat-pockets.

So extremely flat and naked are these marshes that not a snipe, one

would imagine, could manage to hide thereon. Yet even with a powerful

field-glass not a single snipe can be detected where hundreds are

squatting. Their power of concealment is marvellous, and is recognized

in the Spanish name, "_agachar_" meaning to hide, or "lie low."

Where the flight of the birds is known, or where two or three

well-frequented marshes lie adjacent, excellent sport may be had by

lying in wait at one bog whilst the others are being shot over. This is

a matter of local knowledge. A driven snipe, or string of snipes, high

overhead, or a jack pitching in to alight, like a butterfly in a breeze,

offer shots as varied and difficult as even our modern masters of

legerdemain in the arts of gunnery can well desire.

Broadly speaking, all the best snipe-grounds in accessible

districts--aye, and some fairly inaccessible ones too--may be said to be

preserved. There may, probably do, exist unknown and unpreserved spots

which would abundantly reward the explorer; but, in a general way, the

casual sportsman on the unpreserved wilds of Spain or Portugal should

not reckon on more than ten, twelve, or perhaps fifteen brace of snipe

per day. On preserved grounds, the following figures, selected at random

from records of over twenty years, will best show the sport that may be

had with snipe in Southern Spain:--

_Nov. 20, 1873._--Catalana (3 guns), 166 snipe, 1 pigeon, 10 quail, 1

landrail = 178 head.

_Nov. 30, 1873._--Catalana (2 guns), 115 snipe, 2 woodcock, 3 rails, 1

waterhen, 1 bittern = 122 head.

_Dec. 21, 1873._--El Torno (3 guns), 108 snipe, 17 woodcock, 3 rabbits,

8 golden plover, 2 pigeons, 1 badger = 139 head.

_Dec. 20, 1874._--Retuerta (4 guns), 160 snipe, 36 duck and teal, a

marsh-harrier, and 8 sundries = 205 head.

_Nov. 18, 1877._--Retuerta (3 guns, half day), 103 snipe, 4 quail, 2

partridge, 6 ducks, 1 goose, 2 rails, 1 eagle = 119 head.

_Nov. 19, 1882._--(3 guns), 155 snipe, 28 sundries.

_Dec. 1886._--(1 gun), 96 snipe: 20 couple shot passing over one spot,

from one marsh to another.

_Dec. 4, 1889._--Rocina (6 guns), 232 snipe, besides partridge, quail,

duck, &c.

_Dec. 12, 1889._--Retuerta (2 guns, W. E. Brymer and W. J. B.), 60

snipe, 58 ducks, 11 geese = 129 head.

WOODCOCK.

Spanish, _Chocha_--(Andalucia) _Gallineta_.

Arrives in November, but never in any quantities--ten or twelve couple

in a day is an unusual bag, and we have none worth recording.

The latest woodcocks shot in Andalucia are about the middle of March.

QUAILS.

Spanish, _Codorniz_.

Though not strictly marsh-birds, yet quails at times abound among the

moist rushy prairies, both of Spain and Portugal, and hardly a hillock

of drier ground or microscopic patch of maize-stubble but will yield a

brace or two.

The largest bag we can find recorded in our game-books is 52 brace in a

day; but believe this has been, and certainly easily might be, largely

exceeded. At certain passage-periods the Andalucian _vegas_ simply swarm

with this dashing little game-bird, and at such times, with dogs well

entered to quail, very large bags might be secured by any one specially

following them.

One afternoon, when returning from snipe-shooting, we fell in with an

_entrada_ of quail, in a belt of dry rush and sedges, and had bagged

27-1/2 couples in much less than an hour, when daylight and cartridges

ran short.

ANDALUCIAN QUAIL.--Unlike its larger relative, this small quail is not

migratory; a few are found at all seasons, especially on the dry

palmetto-plains, where at dusk its curious "roaring" note, from which is

derived its Spanish name _torillo_ = little bull, is often audible.

Our friend, Mr. W. R. Teage, meets with a few of this small bush-quail

nearly every year when shooting near Ovar, in Portugal--generally in

September.

THE CRANE.

Spanish, _Grulla_.

He who eats the flesh of crane, runs a Spanish proverb, lives a hundred

years[77]--and beyond all question the stately _Grulla_ is one of the

wariest and most difficult birds to circumvent.

Cranes are common enough throughout all the open _vegas_ and

corn-growing plains of Andalucia from early autumn till spring: few days

but one sees them either passing high overhead in loudly-gaggling

skeins, or feeding in troops on the newly-sown beans or wheat. In the

latter case, cranes are not infrequently mistaken for bustard, but

rarely permit the cordon of mounted men to be drawn around their

position; for, though rarely sought after, the crane is imbued with even

wilder spirit than the much-prized bustard. For many years, the few

_Grullas_ we succeeded in killing were merely chance-shots at bands

passing over, when we had happened to be concealed by tall sedges or

bulrush; and even these only by virtue of mould-shot at very great

heights.

During a recent winter, however, we discovered a means of shooting these

wary fowl. It is the habit of a crane to assemble at some remote marsh

for the purpose of roosting. By day, it should be specially remarked,

the crane is _not_ a marsh-haunting bird, but is only seen on _dry_

ground, feeding entirely on grain, acorns, and the like; but invariably

retiring to the marshes, or wettest spot on the prairie, to roost.

Towards the sequestered swamp selected for their _dormidero_, during the

last hour of daylight, files of cranes may be seen winging their stately

course. As darkness gathers round, the assembling host presents an

animated scene, while the music of their magnificent trumpet-note

resounds for miles around.

Such a spectacle we witnessed one March evening when on a

bustard-shooting expedition; and returning a week later, had, at length,

the wary cranes at our mercy. Ensconced in "blinds" of rudely-woven

carices near the centre of a dreary swamp, we soon had these majestic

birds filing close overhead, or flapping past at pistol-range. Not less

than 500 cranes must have appeared, "flighting" from every point of the

compass, and the sight, with the sound of their clarion-notes, formed,

for half an hour, as impressive a spectacle of bird-life as we have

witnessed.

There is intense gratification in out-generalling any animal that has

long defied one's efforts; but it is rather a sense of supremacy than

mere slaughter that is sought. After shooting seven specimens of the

"flighting" _Grullas_, we were content, and have never since molested

them. This marsh, which, being "ten miles from anywhere," is an awkward

place for evening flight-shooting, continued to be their nightly resort

till well on into April, after which date the crane disappears from

Southern Spain; though (as elsewhere recorded) a small and decreasing

colony continues to breed in the neighbourhood of the Lagunas de Janda.

THE DEMOISELLE CRANE.

(_Grus virgo._)

We have seen several examples of this beautiful species shot in the

marismas and corn-plains of Andalucia during the spring-months. It is

just possible that a few pairs may still breed somewhere in that wide

region, though no ornithologist has yet succeeded in establishing the

fact.

[Illustration: STORK'S NEST--THE BANDERAS, SEVILLE.]

WHITE STORK.

Spanish, _Cigueña_.

Though not a sporting bird in any sense, and in some respects almost

_sacred_, the stork attracts the sportsman's attention by its size,

boldly-marked plumage, and majestic appearance on the wing. Nesting

chiefly in the towns, on churches and other buildings, as well as on the

peasants' cots and on trees in the country, storks are dispersed in

hundreds during winter over the marshy plains, though many also migrate

to Africa at that season. Their food consists of frogs, as well as

lizards and various small reptiles and insects; in May we have watched

them snapping up locusts by dozens.

BLACK STORK.

Spanish, _Cigueña negra_.

The only birds of this species we have killed are a pair, shot right and

left, near Jerez, in March, many years ago. We have reason to believe

that the black stork breeds on the Upper Guadiana, and in Castile have

observed it in May.

On May 16th, 1891, we watched a pair which evidently had a nest in the

crags overhanging the Rio Alberche, New Castile, but had not time to

discover its exact position. Manuel de la Torre states that it breeds

yearly in the Montes de Toledo.

BITTERN.

Spanish, _Ave-toro, garza-mochuelo_.

Twenty winters ago, in the marshes below Ovar, in Portugal, my dog

_Nilo_ came to a "point" near a clump of thick sedges. Two yards before

his nose I espied a strange apparition--a mere point erect amidst the

rank herbage, hardly thicker than and much resembling a sere and yellow

flag: there was no visible semblance of head or form--only a sharp

beak, and an eye which seemed to be a part thereof; the whole slim

object pointing vertically heavenward. Next moment the insignificant

point developed into a huge brown bird--more and more expanses of brown

feathers emerged from the sedge till a pair of heavy green hanging legs

wound up the procession. When both barrels were emptied, I had time to

perceive that a bittern was slowly flapping away.

Those were bitter moments: but since then we have killed many a bittern

while snipe-shooting, and could have killed many more had there been any

object; for they lie very close, and offer a mark like a haystack.

According to the Spanish peasants, the flesh of the bittern is

health-giving (_muy saludable_): and the same worthies also state that

the strange boom is produced with the beak half-immersed in water.

RAILS, CRAKES, ETC.

The landrail, reversing its home habits, is only found in Spain in

autumn and winter, its well-known spring-note being never heard in this

southern land. The common water-rail, the spotted crake and Baillon's

crake are all three abundant in winter in the marshes--more so than in

spring: and we have also shot the small (unspotted) crake--on one

occasion, one of these intensely-skulking birds was induced to take wing

by a dead snipe falling right on to his strangely compressed little

body.

Water-hens are as common as at home; and at rare intervals the great

purple water-hen is sprung by the spaniels from some sedgy morass. This

fine bird, like the crakes, is very difficult to flush; but on occasion,

when burning the cane-brakes to drive out deer, wild cats, &c., we have

seen two or three in a day.

Coots (two species) in certain localities afford fine sport, by

"driving" with a number of boats: we have bagged thus over 100 in a day,

besides other wildfowl; and grebes, also of two species, besides the

little dabchick, are also abundant.

GEESE AND DUCKS.

It is unnecessary to add more than a mere list of the various _Anatidæ_

to be met with in winter in Southern Spain.

Grey geese arrive in thousands in November to remain till February. Our

best bags (flight-shooting) are: in one day, 81; in four days, 247. This

was in November, 1889. The great majority of these are greylags, the

remainder being of the "bean" description. We have shot no other

species, though others occur. The Spanish name for all geese is

_anseres_ or _gansos_.

Mallard (_pato real_).--Common at all seasons.

Pintail (_rabudo_).--Abundant in _wet_ winters; in dry seasons they pass

on into Africa.

Shoveler (_paleton_).--Abundant every winter.

Gadwall (_friso_, or _silbon real_).--Rather scarce in winter; a few

breed in Andalucia.

Wigeon (_silbon_).--In millions, October till March.

Garganey (_capitanes_, or _caretones_).--Irregular; some years many are

shot in November, and again in March.

Teal (_zarceta_).--Come in clouds in October.

Marbled Duck (_pardilla_, or _ruhilla_).--A summer duck, rarely seen

after the end of November. Returns in March, and breeds in hundreds.

Pochard (_cabezon_).--Only _locally_ common, in winter.

Tufted Duck.--Have shot these occasionally on the rivers in winter, and

up to April.

White-eyed Pochard (_negrete_).--Chiefly a summer duck, but common in

November and early December, and again in February.

White-faced Duck (_porron_).--Another summer duck, not seen in

mid-winter.

Scoter (_pato negro_).--In big flights on the coast in winter: shot a

drake on Guadalquivir, April 8th.

Merganser.--Once or twice shot in winter--the only member of the

_merginæ_ we have met with.

Sheld-duck (_pato-tarro_, or _ansareta_).--Several shot in winter in

marisma. Some remain to breed.

Ruddy Sheld-duck (_labanco, pato canelo_).--A few shot in winter and

early spring: breeds in _barrancos_ or low cliffs in the Isla Menor, &c.

NOTE.--The ducks of the Spanish marismas are extremely irregular as to

the species which appear: these varying with the seasons and state of

the water. Thus, one winter, pintails will swarm; another, gadwalls and

garganeys are conspicuous; the next, at corresponding seasons, one or

the other will, perhaps, be almost entirely absent.

WILD SWANS.

Spanish, _Cisne_.

These are rare and exceptional stragglers to Southern Spain. In

February, 1891 (a severe winter further north), we found four wild

swans--two fully adult, one of them a very large bird--frequenting the

Lucios de la Madre, in the marismas of Guadalquivir. They were very

wild, and even when alone and separate from other fowl, refused to allow

the approach of our gunning-punt. Eventually we fired at them at long

range (No. 1 shot), but, though one was badly struck, we failed to

secure it: have little doubt, from their note and appearance, they were

hoopers.

AUGUST IN THE MARSHES.

Since writing the above, we have enjoyed a new experience--a

duck-shooting campaign in August. During two days, some 250 ducks were

bagged, of which half were mallards (the drakes already distinguishable

on wing), and of the rest the greater proportion were marbled ducks, the

following species being also included:--gadwall, garganey, ferruginous

and white-faced ducks, ruddy sheld-duck, three or four teal, and two

pintails.

The latter were probably wounded birds lingering since the preceding

winter; which may also, perhaps, explain the presence of three greylag

geese which were seen but not secured. Several common snipe were also

shot--these facts afford "food for reflection!"

During the shooting, the air was alive with birds; besides ducks, there

were herons of all sorts--old and young--egrets, white spoonbills,

night-herons--many young ones, brown and speckled like

bitterns--together with crested and eared grebes, dabchicks, terns,

coots and pratincoles in thousands; while above all, sailed files of

glossy ibis with curious barking croaks, several cormorants, and a

string of cranes.

Among miscellaneous birds shot were most of the above, with little

bitterns, various rails and one purple waterhen, little gulls, whimbrels

(?) and bar-tailed godwit.

It is worth adding that a dead bird, left floating, was completely

devoured in less than five minutes by water-beetles (_Dyticus_), which

hollowed out the body and left nothing, but empty skin and feathers! One

felt that, had one the bad luck to get bogged, these creatures were

capable of making away with a man well under half an hour.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

DEER-STALKING AND "STILL-HUNTING"

ON THE SOUTHERN PLAINS.

Though left to the last, the system of "_rastreando_," as it is called

in Spanish--stalking or "still-hunting," as we have rendered it in

English (though neither expression is perhaps a precise equivalent),

affords some of the prettiest sport to be obtained with the rifle in the

Peninsula. As an example of this sport, we have taken our latest and not

least successful deer-stalking expedition, which took place in March,

1892--exactly twenty years after the campaign recorded in the _first_

chapter (p. 23) of our book.

There only remained a few days before the season for deer-shooting would

close. For more than a week we had been ready awaiting a change in the

weather; but heavy rains day by day delayed a start. Never had there

been known so wet a winter. From the Giralda tower at Seville, the whole

country appeared a sea, and the great river, in the early days of March,

was causing serious anxieties to the Sevillanos, having reached a higher

level than local records had hitherto known. Already its angry waters

dashed in foam over the key-stones of Triana bridge; the transpontine

suburb was submerged to the second floors; from its flat roofs starving

men and women cried for bread as boats passed by, navigating,

Venetian-fashion, the flooded streets. The city itself was an

island--only preserved from inundation by incessant labour at the

embankments, over whose topmost stones the menacing waves already

lapped, when a lull in the storm saved Seville. A breach in that

embankment or a further rise, and the stately and historic city had

been swept away--as Consuegra and many a small town or village was swept

away in Southern Spain daring the terrible floods of 'ninety-two.

Such climatic conditions would not be wholly unfavourable for

deer-stalking--reducing the area over which the game is

scattered--provided there should now be some cessation of the down-pour.

A lull had at length occurred, and the writer set out from Seville to

spend the few remaining days of the season in a remote region of those

brush-clad prairies which cover so vast an area in Southern Spain. My

only companions were two Spanish _cazadores_, brothers, men of keen eye

and of tried skill in woodcraft. The object was to endeavour by

_rastreando_, or still-hunting, to secure a few of the old and wary

stags which roamed over these barren down-lands; but which were far too

cunning to lose their lives in the customary Spanish _batidas_, or

drives. Was it possible, single-handed, and on such comparatively open

ground, to out-manoeuvre these old forest-monarchs, which, on a former

visit, we had seen make good their escape from six or eight rifles? This

question we decided to solve, and to devote the remaining days to

"still-hunting," abandoning every other form of attack.

The rains had left much of these rolling downs too wet for shelter, many

of the thickets and patches of "scroggy" wood being breast-deep in

water. The _picaros tunantes_, _i.e._, cunning old rogues, as Manuel

termed our friends the big stags, were therefore reduced for dry-lying

to the higher ridges and plateaux of the plains; and these, it chanced,

lay at the greatest distance--a long two-days' ride.

[Illustration]

The sun was low ere our horses' hoofs resounded on dry land, instead of

the constant splash, splosh through flooded hollows or standing pools of

rain-water. Here, too, the swelling prairie afforded rather more covert.

We had now reached favourable ground, and from each rising point we

examined the surrounding country with minute scrutiny, scanning each

nook and corner with the binoculars. After a while we made out the head

of a stag, apparently feeding beyond a belt of _abolágas_ and

jungle-grass. A direct stalk--which otherwise seemed fairly

feasible--would, under existing conditions, have necessitated _swimming_

a considerable part of the distance, and the lateness of the hour

forbade our making a long detour, which also seemed to offer a chance of

success. We therefore adopted a third course, and after quickly covering

some two miles, mostly through prickly spear-grass or water, reached a

ridge which my companion reckoned would command the course of the deer

as he led forward. On peering through the bushes on the crest, the stag

was nowhere to be seen--we had overshot the point, and he was now far to

the right. Before us stretched a long tongue of marshy water, choked

with grasses, and aquatic herbage floating on its surface. With a

sardonic grin, M. assured me that that grass would prove the death of

our stag. "He will feed along that pool," he whispered, "nibbling the

water-plants and sprouting grass; but first the daylight must decline."

Ten minutes later, the antlers showed, stealing from some distant

covert; then the beast stepped into the open, advancing towards the

water. But suspicion torments him--between each petulant snatch at the

herbage, he stops and listens, raises his antlered head to gaze back

towards the point whence we had first viewed him: he little thinks the

enemy he fears behind is now close in his front. Presently suspicion

seems allayed: he advances with stealthy strides along the grassy edge,

and already approaches the limits of very long range. The express was

ready cocked when the stag recommenced sniffing and gazing, now he turns

and walks away: the wind is shifty, and to get it full in his nostrils

he bears from us. Clearly he will not now pass our point near enough for

a shot, so back to lower ground we "slither," and run forward at best

speed to cut him out at another point. Still he is out of shot--800

yards off--and another race to the front is necessary, a lung-trying

spin of a quarter-mile. Now, we must perforce rest, panting, for a few

moments, ere we again crawl up the ascent and "speer" over the ridge.

The stag is nowhere to be seen--yes, there he is! he has both heard and

seen us now, and is bounding at top-speed over our very ridge, not

seventy yards in advance. Ere the rifle can be levelled and a ball

dispatched, the stag has dipped the crest: but the second barrel, after

a flying run to the ridge, affords more deliberate aim at about 120

yards. "He has it," quietly remarks my companion, and as the galloping

stag displays his extended flank, the blood-patch on his side is clearly

marked, but _too far back_. Poor beast! though fatally struck, there is

no chance to recover him to-night, for already the sun dips behind the

distant _pinales_--it is too late to think of following him, and sadly

we return to our horses. Ten miles to ride, and the evening spent

discussing "muckle harts" and their haunts on the neighbouring wilds.

All night wind and rain: at daybreak the clouds indicated better things,

but after a few fitful gleams of sunlight, the deluge set in once more.

This and the next day were very bad:--wasted. It was only possible to

pass the time shooting a few rabbits for the use of the _rancho_--the

partridges were all paired long ago; but a lucky shot at a nervous band

of sand-grouse secured four, and in some rush-clad backwaters we picked

up a few snipe and two or three couples of wild-duck.

Next morning, at dawn, we set out to look for deer, the pannier-ponies

following at a distance, with instructions never to come up unless shots

had been fired. Facing the gale, we struck out across far-extending

heaths, where the scrub, as a rule, is of convenient height for shooting

over, but where, in the hollows or dells, are found deep thickets, or

_manchas_. These jungle-patches cover from one or two up to thirty acres

in extent: here the growth of thorny shrub and pampas-grass is much

higher, thicker, and more densely entwined, affording secure "lying" for

deer and other animals.

No rain had fallen since the early hours of the morning: hence the

light, sodden soil exhibited the traces of every beast which had

traversed it to perfection. It was some time before we found tracks

large enough to betoken one of our friends, the _tunantes_. The brothers

had followed two or three _rastros_ for short distances, but were not

satisfied with their importance. Small stags, hinds, lynx, fox and boar

had wandered hither and thither, and were now doubtless sleeping away

the hours of daylight in some of the neighbouring thickets. Hours

passed, but no _rastro gordo_ (heavy track) was discovered, though every

sign and impress on the light sandy soil was read as a book by the

brothers, who quartered the ground to right and left like a brace of

first-rate setters. M. was the first to find: suddenly he stopped and

beckoned:--yes, those prints are undoubtedly of far larger hoofs than

any we have yet seen: nor are they the spoor of one _tunante_, but of

two. Here, says M., look where the two big beasts have stopped together

to nibble the shoots of this _escobon_ (genista)--there they have

stripped a _romero_ (rosemary) of its mauve-coloured blossoms--and here,

along this hollow, they have taken their way at daybreak, direct towards

some thicket-sanctuary. Now, we will not leave them, adds the wild man,

till you have had a _carambola á boca de jarro!_ "a right-and-left at

half-range." For three or four miles, we follow the line, the men hardly

deigning to look on the ground, but making, as by instinct, for points

at which we invariably picked up the trail. At first it was all plain

sailing; but presently we came to places where to our eyes no trace of

spoor existed--to swamps where the uninitiated would detect no sign in

bruised water-flower or bent sedge-shoot; we passed beneath

pine-coppices where the thick-lying needles told _him_ no tale of nimble

feet that had pressed them hours before. At such spots a check

occasionally occurred, when the brothers, muttering maledictions on old

stags in general, and still more scandalous reflections on the maternal

ancestry of these two in particular, opened out till one or the other

caught the thread. The discovery was signalled by holding up a hand, and

on we file, all three pressing quickly forward along the fatal trail. A

pretty sight to watch these men cast like sleuth-hounds, when the trace

was apparently lost--though lost it never was.

Now, after four miles or more, the trail gave certain indications that

were interpreted to mean a desire on the part of the deer to seek

shelter for the day--not a change in their course but its import was

calculated by the hunters. As the spoor approached each small jungle,

the writer went forward in advance, leaving the men to follow the

_rastro_. Several thickets had been tried in this way, but each time the

beasts had passed through and gone on. Now there stretched away before

us a long narrow belt of covert, and approaching this the indications of

the spoor showed that the two deer, as the men put it, _van de

recojida_, _i.e._, had entered the jungle wearily, and would now be

couched within it. The covert was too long to risk putting the gun at

the end, as the game might break on either side; so we decided to walk

through it in line. Unluckily the growth was dense and high--in most

places we could not see two yards in front, a tantalizing situation when

one knew that each step might now bring one to the promised

right-and-left! We had barely progressed 200 yards when the startled

deer arose.[78] I heard the rush and the crash of the undergrowth, but

could see nothing; my ear told me they had gone to the right, and

pushing through the jungle in that direction, a slight clearing in the

long grass showed a glimpse of the two heads appearing now and again

above the scrub as the deer bounded away. I fired both barrels of the

express, directing one at each animal. After the shots nothing could be

seen; but one hart was down, a beast of twelve points. The other barrel

appeared to have been a miss--the larger _tunante_ of the two had

escaped, _Caramba!_ Not for long did such doubts torment us, for, on

cutting off the spoor outside the covert, the tell-tale blood was seen

on the cistus-twigs and on the sandy soil. We followed the wounded beast

for four hours through possible and even impossible places. His pace

never slackened--he seemed to be bound for Portugal. I suggested

slipping a couple of dogs; but the idea was overruled. "The _tunante_ is

struck in the haunch," said they, "and before dogs, would run for hours:

he would reach the big _pinales_, six leagues away. Our chance consists

in his keeping the more open ground and smaller thickets. Before sundown

we will overtake him; but _then_, you must put your bullet in a better

place." These bloodhounds never doubted--on we went, patiently following

the now easier trail, and before sundown we _did_ overtake him. Then, as

he rushed from a clump of big bulrushes in a shallow lagoon, where the

fevered beast had lain down in the water, the express bullet lodged in

_el mismissimo corazon_=in his very heart: and the panniers were

balanced with two of the heaviest old stags that ever roamed on

Andalucian plain.

The next day, a downpour of rain just at the critical moment--when game

and other wild beasts are returning to their lairs--obliterated every

_rastro_, and a fresh stratagem had to be employed. This was to find and

rouse the stag, and then to follow the trail--necessarily a longer and

more delicate operation than that last described, since the suspicions

of the animal are thoroughly aroused; he is alarmed, and traverses great

distances ere again he goes to cover. He is, moreover, apt to go away

very wild on the second approach. The half-inundated condition of the

country, however, was in our favour; and late in the afternoon, having

traced a stag for many weary leagues, I had the satisfaction of pulling

down a beast of "royal" rank by a very long shot.

The next day--and the last of the season--might have been one of those

contributory to the Noachian deluge. Again, despite wind and weather, a

_venado_ of eleven points rewarded our efforts. This stag gave us much

trouble: put up early in the morning, it was night ere he was secured.

My first shot, a long one, struck him heavily, but he ran for hours

before the dogs. We took to our horses in pursuit, but thrice he foiled

us--both scent and spoor being obliterated by the rain. Twice, by wide

"casts" of a mile or more in circuit, we recovered the lost thread, but

the third time not a trace could we discover, and had almost given him

up for lost, when he jumped up, a long way ahead, before the dogs. At

top-speed we ran him to the deep waters of Martinazo, and when at last

we overhauled him, he was making his last gallant fight with the two

hounds, which held him at bay, breast-deep, in the moonlight.

During the long homeward ride on the morrow, we came on the big round

"pugs" of a lynx, and after following them a couple of miles to his

lair, he, too--a big and handsome male--was added to the bag by a single

shot from the express. By nightfall we again reached the outposts of

civilization, well content with the results of the campaign--four good

stags and a lynx--and the wind-up of the sporting season of 1891-92.

[Illustration]

APPENDIX.

PART I.

THE LARGE GAME OF SPAIN AND PORTUGAL,

WITH NOTES ON OTHER SPANISH MAMMALIA.

The large game, or _caza mayor_, of Spain comprises nine or ten animals,

several of which have been dealt with specifically in separate chapters.

We now describe more particularly those not mentioned elsewhere, and

complete a general review of other Spanish _mammalia_ by a few

supplementary remarks.

The beasts of chase in the Peninsula are the red, roe, and fallow deer;

the Spanish ibex and chamois; wild boars, and bears of two varieties,

the wolf and Spanish lynx.

RED DEER (_Cervus elaphus_).

Spanish: _Ciervo_, _Venado_.

Scattered locally throughout the Peninsula, the Spanish red deer present

two distinct types, both differing from the Scotch animal in the absence

of the neck-ruff, or mane. The forest-deer of the wooded plains, or

_cotos_, carry small and rather narrow heads, measuring from 24 to 28

inches in length of horn, and some 18 to 24 in beam.

The mountain-deer, on the other hand, often exhibit a magnificent

horn-development. We have seen heads from the Sierra Morena, and from

the Montes de Toledo, whose massive antlers rival those of the wapiti,

reaching 36 and even 40 inches and upwards in length, with a breadth of

three feet.

The rutting season of the red deer commences in the Coto Doñana at the

end of August (the last quarter of the August moon), and continues till

the full moon in September. We have seen fawns following their mothers

as early as January, but May is the month when they are usually dropped.

The antlers fall in April--few stags are seen with them in May. During

the hornless period of spring and summer, the stags seek shelter in the

densest thickets with damp lying: they also "lie out," like hares, in

open country, and it is surprising how they conceal themselves--a big

hart will lie completely hidden among rushes not two feet high. The

flies at this season are a terrible torture to them, attacking the

sprouting horns and tender surroundings.

Deer-shooting commences in November, and ends in February or early in

March; and it is only necessary to add that all lands in which deer are

found, both on mountain and plain, are preserved.

MEASUREMENT OF RED DEER HEADS.

_Forest-Deer._

Length. Circumference. Beam.

No. 1. 8 points (small) 17-3/4 3-1/2 16-1/2 inches.

" 2. 11 " " 24-1/4 3-3/4 19-1/2 "

" 3. 12 " (royal) 29 5-1/4 25 "

" 4. 13 " " 22-3/4 4-1/16 22-1/2 "

_Mountain-Deer._

Length. Beam.

No. 1. 12 points 34-1/2 inches. 32 inches.

" 2. 12 " 36 " 34 "

" 3. 15 " 37-1/2 " 34-1/2 "

" 4.{**} 17 " 40 " 36-1/2 "

{**} No. 4. This magnificent beast, of which we annex two photos (see

pp. 360 and 430), was shot near Marmolejos in the Sierra Morena.

FALLOW DEER (_Cervus dama_).

In Spanish: _Gamo_, _Paleto_.

These deer are not indigenous, but were introduced by the Romans,

probably from Asia Minor; and are, as at home, more or less private

property. At the same time they exist in a perfectly wild state, and

quite unenclosed, at several places--especially in the neighbourhood of

Madrid, where the Royal estates of Aranjuéz, Rio-frio, El Pardo, &c.,

have tended to disseminate a wild race outside their boundaries.

The Spanish fallow deer are of the spotted axis-like type.

THE ROEBUCK IN SPAIN.

(_Cervus capreolus_.)

Though plentiful in the wooded ravines of the sierras, where it

frequents sapling-thickets in preference either to scrub or forest

proper, yet the roe is seldom made a special object of pursuit. The few

roebuck--in Spanish, _corzo_--that have fallen to our guns have been

killed when in pursuit of pig or other game.

Yet to this deer we owe as narrow an escape as can be faced; while

roe-shooting in the Sierra de la Jarda, and riding along a precipitous

goat-track, a projecting crag barred the way: in rounding the

obstruction, it was necessary that the horses should simultaneously make

an upward step or two on a sort of rock-stair. During this awkward

manoeuvre, one _jaca_ brought his flank sharply in collision with the

crag, struggled for one desperate moment to recover equilibrium, and

then plunged, broadside on, down the precipice. His rider, springing

from the stirrups, clutched a _retamo_ bush, and thus hung suspended

"between the devil and the deep." Poor _Bolero_ fell crashing through

the ilexes that clung to the crag--we could hear the smashing of branch

after branch as he broke his way downwards. We descended to recover the

gun, saddle, and equipments from the killed horse; but, to our

amazement, found him quietly grazing--the gun still in the slings, the

bridle over his nose--hardly, beyond a cut or two, the worse for his

adventure. The fall was over 100 feet, but the stout branches of ilex

and _chaparro_, with a marvellous measure of luck, had saved his life.

Roebuck, in Spain, are mostly killed with large shot (slugs), not ball;

and to those who are content with this game, nearly all the southern

sierras would yield a measure of sport, combined with occasional

chances at pig, and this often on unpreserved grounds.

Roe are confined to the mountains--never found on the plains.

THE SPANISH IBEX (_Capra hispanica_).

Of the _Cabra montés_ we have already treated (chapters xi. to xiii.,

pp. 128-172), and now add some notes which we contributed to the

_Badminton Library_ through our friend Mr. C. Phillipps-Wolley, the

editor of the Big Game volumes.

[Illustration: FIVE-YEAR-OLD IBEX.]

The Spanish mountaineer does not much affect ibex-hunting, though there

are in each mountain-village some who try to earn a few precarious

dollars by it. The peasants who follow this pursuit in the alpine

regions of Spain become fearless climbers: with their feet clad in

_alparagatas_, or hemp-soled sandals, they traverse ridges and descend

crags where nail-shod guide would falter. The first object is to get as

high as possible. Then, crawling to the verge of some fearful abyss, the

hunter commands the depths below, and, if he descry ibex, is enabled to

approach without the warning of the wind. Should he see none, he

imitates the shrill cry of the female, and not unfrequently a ram is

thus betrayed by the whistle of love. The ibex-hunter must be provided

with lungs of leather, a steady hand and eye, and untiring limbs.

The best time for ibex-shooting is during July and August, when

camping-out on the higher regions is practicable and even enjoyable. The

snow-storms and frozen state of the snow render the winter-and

spring-shooting both dangerous and uncertain.

When ibex are known to be frequenting the lower valleys and chasms of

the sierra, guns are concealed among the broken rocks in the higher

regions commanding the ravines by which the _montéses_ are accustomed to

ascend. Then the beaters enter from below, shots and unearthly yells

disturb the timid animals, and slowly they ascend the mountain-side,

listening ever and anon as they look down from some shelving ledge or

giddy point. So slowly, indeed, do they sometimes come that the hunter

may contemplate them for minutes before he can despatch his bullet. At

some vital spot it must take effect or the trophy is lost. Such is the

vital resistance of the wild-goat that unless killed outright he will

manage to gain some inaccessible precipice, and there on a hanging ledge

give up his life.

CHAMOIS (_Antilope rupicapra_).

Spanish: _Rebeco_, _Sario_.

The stronghold of the chamois--the _Izard_ of the French hunters,

_Rebeco_ of Cantabria, and _Sario_ in Arragon--is in the Pyrenees, and

their western prolongation, the Cantabrian ranges of Santander, the

Asturias, &c. They are specially abundant near the Picos de Europa. This

animal is not found on any of the cordilleras of Central or Southern

Spain. Mr. Packe's statement that he saw two on a misty morning in the

Sierra Nevada probably arose from the similarity in size and form of the

horns of the young or female ibex. Chamois inhabit only the loftiest,

most wild and rocky mountain-summits, and are killed (usually with large

shot) in big "_batidas_," or drives. How they manage to sustain life on

these barren snow-clad heights _in winter_--since they never descend to

the lower levels--passes understanding; but the case of the ibex is no

less inexplicable.

Lord Lilford writes:--In my opinion the chamois of the Pyrenees is very

distinct from the chamois of Central Europe and Turkey.

[Illustration]

NOTE.--_Wild Sheep_:--It is somewhat remarkable that the moufflon, which

is found as near as Corsica and Sardinia, should be entirely unknown in

the Spanish cordilleras.

BEAR (_Ursus arctos_).

Spanish: _Oso_.

There are in Spain two kinds of bear--it would, perhaps, be more correct

to say two varieties--the large, dark-coloured beast, and the small

brown bear, or _Hormiguero_ = ant-eater. The latter, which is not

uncommon in the Asturias, feeds on roots, ants'-nests, honey, and

such-like humble fare; while the big black bear, distinguished as

_Carnicero_, preys on goats, sheep, pigs, &c., and even pulls down

horned cattle.

Bear-hunting is confined to the north--to the Pyrenees and the

Cantabrian Highlands. A primitive method of pursuit survives in certain

high-lying villages of the Asturias, where the mountaineers face Bruin,

armed only with pike and knife. These men are associated in a sort of

fraternal band, and the occupation passes from father to son. The

_osero_, accompanied only by his dogs, seeks the bear amidst the

recesses of the sierra, and engages him in single combat. His equipment

consists of a broad-bladed hunting-knife and a double dagger, each of

whose triangular blades fits into a central handle.

By less vigorous sportsmen, bear-hunting is carried on by calling into

requisition a large number of men and dogs--usually with the assistance

of the _oseros_, and by the more discreet use of fire-arms, vice cold

steel.

The neighbourhood of Madrid was once described as "_buen monte de puerco

y oso_" (good country for pig and bear), and the city itself as "_la

coronada villa del oso y madroño_;" but bears no longer exist in either

of the Castiles. The small _Hormiguero_ is confined to the Asturias: the

larger beast is also fairly common there, and not rare in Navarre,

Arragon, and, possibly, Catalonia.

WILD BOAR (_Sus scrofa_).

Spanish: _Javato_, _Javali_.

The wild boar has always abounded in Spain, and its chase ever held a

chief place among Spanish sports--in olden times on horseback with pike

and lance. During the middle ages the pursuit of falconry took such hold

upon the national taste, that the pigs were almost forgotten, and

towards the close of the fifteenth century they became a positive

scourge, devastating the crops and invading the outlying portions even

of great cities. With the Renaissance came the application of science to

sporting weapons; and, with gunpowder substituted for cold steel, the

boar had a bad time of it; he was shot down as he rushed from his

thicket-lair, or assassinated as he took his nocturnal rambles.

In Estremadura the favourite _chasse au sanglier_ is still with horse

and hound. During the stillness of a moonlight night, when the acorns

are falling from the oaks in the magnificent Estremenian woods, a party

of horsemen assemble to await the boars, which at night descend from the

mountains to feed. Then a trained hound, termed the _maestro_, which

throws tongue only to pig, is slipped: should he succeed in bringing a

tusker to bay, a dozen strong dogs, half-bred mastiffs, are despatched

to his assistance. Off they rush like demons, to the challenge of the

_maestro_, followed by the horsemen, and there ensues a break-neck ride

and a struggle with a grizzly tusker in the half-light, which are

sufficiently exciting to make this sport a favourite with the

_valientes_ of Estremadura.

It is possible that, on the southern plains, pig-sticking might be

attempted. The country is, however, very rough, much intercepted with

cane-brakes and dense jungles of matted brushwood and briar.

In the vast cane-brakes which fringe the Guadiana are found enormous

boars, whose tusks, as they charge, resemble a white collar encircling

the neck.

We have noticed the young following their mothers as early as January.

The piglings are at first pretty little beasts, yellowish-brown, striped

longitudinally with black bars. In May we have observed the old sows and

young associated into herds of twenty or more.

WOLF (_Canis lupus_).

Spanish: _Lobo_.

These Ishmaelites of the animal-world, though common enough in all the

wilder regions of Iberia, rarely present themselves as a mark for the

rifle-ball. Many-fold more cunning than the fox, the wolf never--not for

a single instant--forgets the risk of danger nor his human enemies. When

aroused in a _montería_, or mountain-drive, wolves come slowly forward,

feeling their way like field-marshals in an enemy's country, and on

reaching some strong crag or thicket, lie down, awaiting the arrival of

the beaters, who must pass on one side, when the stealthy brute slinks

back on the other.

Wolves change their residence according to the season. In summer, when

the peasants' goats and sheep are pastured on the hills, they inhabit

the highest sierras; in winter, when the stock is removed to lower

ground, there are the wolves also.

In all parts of Spain, it is customary for herdsmen to remain in

constant attendance on their flocks by day and night, to protect them

from the ravages of wolves and other "beasts of the field." In parts of

Southern Estremadura and in the Sierra Nevada, it is sometimes necessary

to keep fires burning at night, and shots are also fired at intervals,

to secure the flocks from attack. When encamped, in the neighbourhood of

Almadén, some years ago, we used to hear the packs of wolves keep up a

concert of unearthly howls the livelong night.

Too cunning to fall either into trap or ambuscade, yet of late years the

numbers of the Spanish wolf have been largely reduced by means of

poison: they will, however, doubtless hold their own in Spain for

centuries to come.

Like the bear, the wolf is also divisible into two distinct breeds, or

races. There is the large grey wolf (the common kind), and the _Lobo

serrano_, or mountain-wolf, which is smaller, darker, and more rufous in

colour.

The following table shows the respective weights in English pounds (25

to the _arroba_), of the two types of wolf, both of which are found in

all parts of Spain:--

Males. Females.

Lobo grande 125 to 150 100 to 112 lbs.

Lobo serrano 75 " 90 60 " 75 "

The gait of the wolf, when driven into the open, is a slow, slouching

gallop; but he goes much faster than he appears to do. Well might the

Lusitanian farmer tell Latouche, with an imitative gesture: "Corre,

corre, corre; mas o diablo mesmo não o apanhava"--"Slowly he bounds,

bounds along; but the devil himself could not overtake him!"

FOX (_Canis vulpes--var., melanogaster_).

Spanish: _Zorro_.

The Spanish foxes are all of the black-bellied species, or variety; but

the majority lack the jet black underparts that distinguish Indian

examples--being rather clouded, or marbled, than pure black. We have,

however, shot one (in November) which was far more typically

coloured--quite black below and on legs--than the average, which are

generally greyer and more silvery than our British fox. A few show a

white crescent on the breast. They run about 15 lbs. in weight, and 48

inches in length.

Foxes are not hunted in Spain except by the Calpe Hounds at Gibraltar.

SPANISH LYNX (_Felis pardina_).

Spanish: _Gato cierval_, _Lince_.

This species is also peculiar to the Peninsula, and in the southern

provinces may be called common, frequenting the wilder, scrub-covered

wastes and wooded sierras, where it preys on hares, rabbits, and

partridge. In the spring the large and powerful males are also

destructive among the young red deer.

The spotted lynx is the only species found in Spain, its range extending

(though in decreasing abundance) to the Asturian ranges, and even, we

believe, to the Pyrenees, where we have failed to find any evidence of

the existence of the northern form (_Felis lynx_).

The movements of lynx are most dignified, having rather the demeanour of

the tiger than of the wild-cat: it advances with slow, stately stride

and measured movements, standing at the full height of the long,

powerful legs, and the head carried level with the back.

Though its approach, _per se_, is absolutely noiseless, yet on a still

day it is just possible for an ear attuned to distinguish anything

differing from the ordinary sounds of the wilds, to detect a slight

_crackling_--a rustle, as the dry cistus-twigs re-unite after being

divided by the passage of the lynx's body.

Its stealth preserves the lynx from falling readily into danger, and few

are shot comparatively with their numbers in the wilder regions of

Spain. When a lynx detects an ambuscade, there is an instant's

cogitation ere the big cat bounds off. One moment, from the jungle, the

great yellow eye meets one's own--that cruel, pretty face, full of hate

and shy self-possession, set off by the bushy whiskers and tufted

ears--then, like a yellow gleam, the beast disappears for ever in the

thicket.

On one occasion, in winter, while redleg-shooting, we noticed a

commotion among some kites hovering at a certain spot. On going there,

the writer came suddenly on a lynx which had killed a rabbit--a morsel

doubtless coveted by the _milanos_. This lynx, though a rather small

female, on being wounded with small shot, made a gallant effort to

attack its aggressor.

The country folk declare that there is no better meat than that of lynx;

but then, it is true, they hold that otter is very good for the health,

_muy saludable_; that bittern is _carne muy fina_, while the flesh of

owls and hawks of all kinds possess medicinal properties, and with such

remedies, various herbs and roots, bleeding, and other simple specifics,

the rural Spaniard relies--perhaps with reason--on giving the _medico_ a

wide berth. We have tried lynx, however, approaching the feast with

perfectly open mind, and found it fairly good. The flesh was short in

grain, white, and devoid of any unpleasant flavour. Without prejudice, a

_guiso_ of lynx is as good as one of partridge or veal.

Lynxes produce their young in April, often using the hollowed trunk of

some cavernous cork-tree, or forming a sort of nest on the big branches

for the purpose. We have reared the young lynxes from babyhood, and

found them at least more docile than the fanatically furious wild-cats:

but that is not saying much: for both are impregnated to the marrow with

hate and treachery, and eventually these attempts to "civilize" the wild

_felidæ_ resulted in a tragic finale. For nearly a year we had kept a

young female lynx (chained) in the garden: though often vicious and

never reliable, she showed some slight "feline amenities"--purring and

rubbing herself against one's leg, when petted, like a domestic tabby.

But at length she perpetrated a terrible assault on a poor woman who

chanced to pass near her kennel. The brute probably mistook her victim

for the woman who daily brought it its food; and, seeing her pass by,

with a sudden tremendous bound she broke her chain, and sprang upon the

poor _lavandera's_ shoulders, tearing open her face with one claw, her

breast with the other. Assistance was luckily at hand, and the savage

brute, after a long chase, was killed. The poor woman was desperately

hurt: for days her life was in danger, and for many weeks she was

obliged to remain in bed under the doctor's care.

The male lynxes are much larger and handsomer than the females, weighing

some 42 to 50 lbs. The ground-colour of both is warm tawny-brown, but on

the males the spots are fewer, larger, and more defined.

WILD-CAT (_Felis catus_).

Spanish: _Gato montés_, _Gato castellano_, or _romano_.

As above remarked, the young wild-cats are quite the most ferocious and

utterly untameable beasts of which we have had any experience; the

mixture of fear and fury they exhibit in captivity is indescribable,

even when only a few weeks old.

Wild-cats are common throughout Spain wherever rabbits abound. In the

sierras, they breed in crags and rabbit-burrows; on the plains the young

are often produced in nests built in trees, or among the tall bamboos in

the cane-brakes.

Weight of an old tom 10-1/4 lbs., of a female 8-1/2 lbs. In some

examples the fur of the underparts is of a warm tawny hue. The general

colour of the wild-cat is a brindled grey, with black stripes.

GENET (_Viverra genetta_).

Spanish: _Gineta_.

A beautiful beast, with clear grey fur, blotched with big black spots, a

long tail, and a head more like a fox-terrier than a cat: common in all

the southern provinces, and as far north as Old Castile; at La Granja,

and in the provinces of Avila and Segovia. Not found (we believe) in

Asturias or Santander.

The genet lives in holes in rocks and crags, and in large woods. In

winter, we have shot them when beating the sallows and cane-brakes for

woodcock. It feeds on small rodents and young birds, occasionally, like

the polecat, plundering hen-roosts, when it eats the brains of its

numerous victims, and leaves the body untouched. In autumn, when the

grapes are ripe, it is said to be very fond of a feast in the vineyards;

but its principal food consists of mice and moles. It is considered a

better _cazador_ than even the lynx, wily as a fox, and twisting as a

snake.

Our friend Manuel de la Torre killed three genets in Estremadura that

were _entirely black_, and rather smaller than the average. One of these

specimens is in the Madrid Museum.

MARTEN (_Mustela foina_).

Spanish: _Foina_, _Garduño_.

Common in Andalucia, Estremadura, and Valencia: also observed in the

Asturias and Santander. Only one kind of marten is found generally

throughout Spain, but we have some reason to believe that the "_marta_"

of the Pyrenees is the rarer pine-marten (_M. abietum_).

POLECAT (_Mustela putorius_)--"_Turón._."

OTTER (_Lutra vulgaris_)--"_Nutra_," or "_Nutria_."

BADGER (_Meles taxus_)--"_Tejón._"

All these are common in Andalucia, and generally throughout Spain.

Though so strictly nocturnal in its habits, we have occasionally found

the badger above-ground by day, in our _batidas_ in the Coto Doñana,

&c., and have dug out a brood of young as early as January 29th.

WEASEL (_Mustela vulgaris_).

Spanish: _Comadreja_, _Rojizo_.

Not observed in Andalucia, but common in Provincia de Madrid, Old

Castile; in the Sierra de Guadarrama, and in Estremadura and Arragon.

MONGOOSE (_Herpestes widdringtoni_).

Spanish: _Melón_.

Common in the southern provinces, and as far north as the Sierra de

Gredos (Old Castile). Ichneumons feed largely on snakes and other

reptiles. They seldom offer a shot in the open, clinging tenaciously to

the thickest covert, and are more often taken alive--either dug out of

their burrows or caught by the dogs--than shot.

* * * * *

Among minor quadrupeds may be mentioned the hedgehog (_Erizo_), the mole

(_Topo_), the shrew (_Musaraña_), squirrel (_Ardilla_), water-rat (_Rata

de agua_), with the usual family-group of rats and mice. One

particularly interesting species, the trumpeter water-shrew (_Mygale

pyrenaica_), is found in the rivers of Guipúzcoa, Navarre, and, _fide_

our friend Manuel de la Torre, in the Rio de Piedra, Provincia de

Zaragoza.

The dormouse (_Liron_), and fat dormouse (_Liron campestre_), are both

common in Andalucia.

The Spanish hare (_Lepus mediterraneus_), and rabbit require no further

remark.

PART II.

SPRING-MIGRANTS TO SPAIN.

WITH DATES OF ARRIVAL, ETC., IN ANDALUCIA.

In the following list we endeavour to indicate the closest possible

point of time for the arrival, nesting, and departure of spring-migrants

to Spain, the dates especially referring to Andalucia. But since the

passage of almost each species, though in many cases punctual to a day

or two in commencing, continues during three or four weeks--and in some

instances over much longer periods--it is only possible to approximate.

Thus there is a distinct arrival of Swallows in February (early in March

many already have eggs), yet the "through-transit" of vast

bodies--destined perhaps to populate Lapland and Siberia--is conspicuous

throughout April, and even into May.

In compiling these lists the recorded observations of other naturalists

have been freely utilized, especially the papers of Lord Lilford and Mr.

Howard Saunders in the _Ibis_, and Col. Irby's "Ornithology of the

Straits of Gibraltar." In ornithological matters the writer has a

weakness for _dates_,[79] and the last-mentioned work fairly bristles

with these valuable facts. For five springs its author maintained a

careful watch on the Straits, and during those years hardly a movement

of feathered fowl betwixt the Pillars of Hercules could escape his

vigilance.

LIST OF SPRING-MIGRANTS.

---------------+--------------+-----------+--------------+------------------

| Arrives. | Nests. | Departs. | Remarks.

---------------+--------------+-----------+--------------+------------------

| | | |

Egyptian | | | |

Vulture |End Feb.-Mar. |April 1-10 | Sept. |

Montagu's | | | |

Harrier | End Mar. | May 1-10 | Sept. |

Booted Eagle | Mar. 25 | April 10 | Sept. } | A few winter

Serpent Eagle | Mar. 8 | April 15 | Oct. } | near Malaga.

Black Kite | Mar. 10 | April 30 | Sept.-Oct. |

Honey Buzzard |End April-May |None breed |Sept. 17, '92 | In transit only.

Hobby | April | | Sept. | do.

Lesser Kestrel |End Feb.-Mar. | April 25 | Sept.-Oct. | Some winter.

Scop's Owl | Mid-Mar. | May 10 | Sept.-Oct. | do.

R. N. Nightjar | May 1 | May 25 | Sept.-Oct. |

Swift | Mar.-April | May | Sept.-Oct. |

Pallid Swift |End Mar.-April| do. | |

Alpine Swift | Mar. 25-Apl. | do. | Aug.-Sept. |

Roller |End Mar.-April| April 15 | Sept. |

Bee-Eater |End Mar.-April| May 15 | July-Aug. |

Hoopoe |End Feb.-April| May 1 | Aug.-Oct. |

Cuckoo |Mar. 25-April | April 23 | July-Aug. |

Spotted Cuckoo | Feb. 28-Mar. | April 15 | July-Aug. |

Wryneck | March | | Sept. |Breeds in Castile.

Ring-Ouzel{%} | | Few | |

| Mar.-April | breed{%} | Autumn | Transit.{%}

Rock-Thrush | End Mar.- | May |26 Sept., '68 |

| Apl.--early | (Arragon) | (Irby) |

Wheatear | Mar. 1-April |None breed | Oct.-Nov. | In transit.

Eared Wheatear |Mar. 30-April |May 10, '71| Autumn |

Russet | | | |

Wheatear |Mar. 30-April |May 12, '71| do. |

Whinchat |April 10, '83 |None breed | Sept. | Transit only.

Nightingale | April 8-15 |May 7, '83 | Aug.-Sept |

Redstart{%} |Mar. 25-April |None breed | Sept.-Oct. | Transit.

Garden Warbler | Mid-April | May 10 | Oct. |

Orphean | | | |

Warbler | Mid-April | May 15 | Sept. |

Whitethroat | April 10-20 | May 12 | Sept.-Oct. |

Spectacled | | | |

Warbler |Mar. 10 (Irby)| | |

Sub-alpine | | | |

Warbler | March (end) |May (early)| Oct. |

Bonelli's | | | |

Warbler | April-early | | Sept. |

Wood-Wren | April 25 | May 25 | Oct. | Scarce.

Willow-Wren | March | April 10 | | Many resident.

Chiffchaff | | April 20 | | do.

Yellow | | | |

Willow-Wren | April (end) | May 20 | Aug.-Sept. |

W. Pallid do. | May 1 | June 10 | Aug.-Sept. |

Rufous | | | |

Warbler | May 1 | May 28 | Sept. |

Savi's | | | |

Warbler. | March (?) | May 4 | Aug. (Irby) | Rare and local.

Great Sedge | | | |

Warbler | April | May 28 | |

Reed-Warbler | End March | May 5 | |

Pied | | None | |

Flycatcher{%%}| April 8-30 | breed[A] | Oct. 1-17 |

Spotted do. | May 10 | May 25 | Aug.-Sept. | In transit.

Swallow | Mid-Feb. to | | |

| May |Mar.-April | Sept.-Oct. |A few in winter.

Martin | February | | Sept.-Oct. |

Sand-Martin | Feb.-Mar. |May (H. S.)| Oct. |A few all winter.

Crag-Martin | Feb.-Mar. | April-May | Oct.-Nov. | Many in winter.

Woodchat | Mar.-April | May 10 | Sept.-Oct. |

G. H. Wagtail. | Feb.-Mar. | April 25 | Aug.-Sept. |

Tree Pipit | Mar.-April |None breed | Oct.-Nov. | In transit.

Tawny Pipit | April | | Aug. |Some breed, H. S.

Short-toed Lark| Mid-March | April 20 | Aug.-Sept. |

_C. | | | |

Batica_{%%} | ? | May 9 | ? | (Unknown).

Cirl-Bunting | Mar. | April 12 | Oct.-Nov. | Many resident.

Ortolan | April | May 5 | Sept. |

Serin | February | May 10 | Oct.-Nov. |

Golden Oriole | April 15-20 | May 20 | Aug.-Sept. |

Spotless | | | |

Starling | March | April 23 | Sept. |

Turtle-Dove | April-end | | Sept. (end) |

| May | May | Oct. |

Quail | Mar.-April | May | Sept. 15-30 |

| | | |

Landrail | Feb.-Mar. |None breed | Oct. | Many winter.

Purple | | | |

Gallinule | February | April 25 | Oct. | Many resident.

Stone-Curlew | Mar.-April | April 20 | Oct.-Nov. | Many resident.

Pratincole | April 8-20 | May 12 | Sept. |

Grey Plover | May |None breed | Nov. | On passage only.

Kentish Plover.| March | April 15 | | Many winter.

Lesser Ring | | | |

Plover | Mid-March | May 10 | |

Common | | None | |

Sandpiper{%%%}| April 15 | breed{%%%} | Aug.-Sept. |

Curlew | | | |

Sandpiper{$} | May |None breed | | Transit.

Knot | May 1-10 | do. | | do.

Wood-Sandpiper | April-May | do. | | do.

Greenshank | April-May | do. | Sept.-Oct. | A few winter.

Black-tailed | | | |

Godwit | Feb.-Mar. | do. | |

Bar-tailed do. | May | do. | Sept. |

Ruff | April-May | do. | Aug.-Sept. | Many winter.

Great Snipe | April-May | do. | Sept.-Oct. |

Whimbrel | May | do. | Sept.-Oct. |

Slender-billed | | | |

Curlew | Spring | do. | Autumn | A few winter.

Purple Heron | March 20 | April 10 | Sept. |

Little Egret | April-early | June 8 | Oct.-Nov. |

Buff-backed | | | |

Heron | Mar.-April | do. | |

Squacco do. | April 20 | do. | |

Little Bittern | April-end | do. | Sept. |

Night Heron | April-end | May 20 | |

Glossy Ibis | April 20 | May 28 | |

Spoonbill | April 10 |May (early)| | Observed in

| | (Irby) | | winter.

Crane | Feb.-Mar. | April 25 | Oct. | Many winter.

Demoiselle | | | |

Crane | Mar.-April | | Aug. |

Stork | Jan.-Feb. |March (end)| Sept. | Many winter.

Black Stork | Feb. to May | May | Nov. |

Marbled Duck. | April | May (end) | Sept. |

Garganey | Feb.-Mar. | do. | Sept. | Very irregular.

Nyroca Pochard | Feb.-Mar. | May 20 | Oct.-Nov. |

White-faced | | | |

Duck | Mar.-April. | May 20 | Oct.-Nov. |

Gull-billed | | | |

Tern | April 8 | May 25 | |

Lesser Tern | April 13 | May 25 |Oct. 25 (Irby)|

Whiskered | | | |

Tern | April 10 | May 20 |Aug. (Favier) |

Black Tern | May 1 | May 30 | Sept.-Oct. |

| | | (Favier) |

---------------+--------------+-----------+--------------+------------------

{%} Some Ring-Ouzels nest in Sierra Nevada--eggs received from Colmenar

by H. S.--possibly also some Redstarts.

{%%} Pied Flycatcher believed to breed in Castile (H. S.). _C. Batica_

is perhaps resident.

{%%%} The Sandpiper breeds in Castile and in Portugal, and a few pairs

may possibly do so in Andalucia. The main transit occurs about April 15,

coinciding with their arrival on the North British moorlands.

{$} Many other congeneric species of the Plover and Sandpiper class,

such as Sanderling, Little and Temminck's Stints, Purple Sandpiper, &c.,

might also be included, passing north through Andalucia in millions at

the same period; but many individuals also spend the autumn and winter

there.

PART III.

SPRING-NOTES IN NAVARRE.

BY ALFRED CRAWHALL CHAPMAN.

The breeding-season in Navarre, owing probably to the high mean altitude

of that province, appears to be relatively later than in other districts

of similar latitude. In mid-April (1891) at St. Jean de Luz and Irun, we

luxuriated in warm sunshine and the shade of leafy trees; but at

Alsasua, on the afternoon of the 15th, we found ourselves transported to

a region as cold and bleak as Northumbria, while at Pamplona, though the

sun shone gratefully, his warmth was marred by a biting wind.

A parched-looking, sterile country separates the capital of Navarre from

Burguete, a small village on the Spanish slope of the Pyrenees just

under the Roncesvalles Pass, whither we were bound. Outside Pamplona, a

single polyglot, or icterine warbler was observed, together with the

following other species:--redstarts, tree-pipits, woodchats, ortolans,

goldfinch, linnets, yellow-hammers, and chaffinches; and on the road to

Burguete were added:--griffon vultures--doubtless from

Yrurzun--Bonelli's eagle, red kites, one marsh-harrier, hoopoes, black

redstarts, white wagtails, bluethroat (white-spotted form), robin,

willow-wren, swallow, ring-ouzel, stonechat, wheatear, calandra lark,

buzzard, kestrel, and grey partridge.

At Burguete, between April 17th and 21st, of raptores observed, with the

exception of occasional kites, the buzzard was the commonest hawk, and

already had eggs. Tawny owls had feathered young, but, beyond

house-martins breeding in the crags, no other species appeared to have

commenced to nest. In the beech woods around Burguete six species of

tits were common, viz., the oxeye, blue, cole, marsh, long-tailed and

crested. The last-named has a pretty rippling note, quite unique in its

way. Nuthatches were numerous and clamorous, and green woodpeckers (?

sp.) were noted. Amongst the box-scrub, fire-crests were common, with

dippers and sandpipers on the streams; while, scattered about in the

woods and hills, we came across wryneck, wren, white and yellow

wagtails, pied and spotted flycatchers, turtle-and stock-doves, serin,

gold-and bull-finches and carrion-crow. Above the Roncesvalles convent

on April 20th, in a grey mist and drizzling rain, numbers of golden

orioles, tree-pipits, skylarks, swallows, stock-doves and other common

birds were picking their way northwards on migration; and a single

spectacled warbler was obtained. This species has very active, sprightly

movements, and a robin-like gait when hopping on the ground.

On April 21st we journeyed, _viâ_ Orbaiceta, to a forest-guard's house

in the great Iraty forest, observing _en route_ grey wagtails and

choughs, Egyptian vultures and ravens, the latter nesting. The change

from the beech woods of Burguete to the endless spruce-fir forests of

Iraty proved disappointing. Doubtless _Picus martius_ breeds here, for

we saw woodpeckers' holes which, from their size, could belong to no

other species; but not a sight either of this bird or of the nutcracker

rewarded our careful search. Bonelli's warbler, with its rather shrill,

monosyllabic note, abounded wherever the nature of the ground suited its

habits, but had not yet paired; nor could we ascertain that any other

species were yet breeding. The hedge-sparrow here was of a noticeably

paler cast of plumage than at home--perhaps explained by the altitude;

while at Burguete, the chaffinches were visibly brighter in colour, and

we also detected a striking difference in the song of yellow-hammer and

some other species, as compared with English birds--possibly the

mysterious beginnings of evolution. On the way back to Burguete, a

sedge-warbler and a lovely specimen of the wall-creeper--the only one we

saw--were obtained.

During our six days' absence, a considerable influx of migrants had

occurred at Burguete, as evidenced by increased numbers of pied

flycatchers (mostly males), woodchats and black redstarts. Blue-headed

wagtails (_M. neglecta_) were running on the grass about the horses'

feet, and, though the bird has been given specific rank, reminded me

strongly of _M. cinereocapilla_, which I knew well in Lapland in 1884.

During a two hours' ramble before breakfast on April 25th, just before

leaving for home, the following were observed:--sparrow-hawk, a pair of

snipe, magpies and jays, one heron, a pale blue harrier and a golden

eagle.

Our short experience in Navarre is conspicuous more for what we did

_not_ see than for what we did. Extensive forests, thickly-grown,

without underwood, and in a mountainous region, are not favourable to

bird-life. Such places lack rabbits for the raptores, and are deficient

in insect-food for the warblers and other small species, while the

absence of marshy ground explains that of aquatic birds. April is,

however,--at any rate in such seasons as that of 1891--quite a month too

early for ornithological research in Navarre.