WILD-GEESE IN SPAIN
THEIR SPECIES, HAUNTS, AND HABITS
To Spain, as to other lands that remain unaltered and "unimproved,"
resort the greylag geese in thousands to pass the winter.
In our marismas of the Guadalquivir they appear during the last days of
September, but it is a month later ere their full numbers are made up,
and from that date until the end of February their defiant multitudes
and the splendid difficulties of their pursuit afford a unique form and
degree of wild sport perhaps unknown outside of Spain.
Ride through the marisma in November; it is mostly dry, and autumn rains
have merely refreshed the sun-baked alluvia and formed sporadic
shallows, or _lucios_ as they are here termed. That _lucio_ straight
ahead is a mile across, yet it is literally tessellated with a sonorous
crowd. With binoculars one distinguishes similar scenes beyond; the
intervening space--and indeed the whole marisma--is crowded with geese
as thickly as it is on our immediate front. To right and left rise fresh
armies hitherto concealed among the _armajo_, till the very earth seems
in process of upheaval, while the air resounds with a volume of
voices--gabblings, croaks, and shrill bi-tones mingled with the rumble
of beating wings.
Amid the islands of the Norwegian Skaargaard one can see geese in bulk,
but there their numbers are distributed over a thousand miles of coast.
Here we have them all--or a large proportion--concentrated in what is by
comparison but a narrow space.
In their life-habits these geese are strictly diurnal, that is, they
feed by day--chiefly in the early morning and again towards afternoon,
with a mid-day interval of rest. The night they spend asleep on some
broad _lucio_ or other bare open space. That habit, however, is subject
to modification during the periods of full moon, when many geese avail
themselves of her brilliant light to feed in even greater security than
they can enjoy by day. Their food consists exclusively of vegetable
substances--at first of the remnants of the summer's herbage, such as
green ribbon-grass (_canaliza_), and other semi-aquatic plants; their
main sustenance in mid-winter consists of the tuber-bearing roots of
spear-grass (_Cyperus longus_ and _C. rotundus_) which they dig up from
the ground.
[Illustration: ROOT OF SPEAR-GRASS]
When autumn rains are long delayed, their voracious armies will already
have consumed every green thing that remains in the parched marismas
long before the "new water" from the heavens shall have furnished new
feeding-grounds. In such cases the geese are forced to depart, and do
so--so far as our observation goes--in the direction of Morocco;
returning thence (within a few hours) immediately after rain has fallen.
Their entry, on this second arrival, is invariably from the south and
south-west--that is, from the sea.
There are three methods of shooting wild-geese in the Spanish marismas
which may here be specified, to wit:--
(1) Morning-flight, when the geese habitually come to "take sand" at the
dawn. See next chapter.
(2) "Driving" during the day (available only in dry years).
(3) Awaiting their arrival at dusk at their _dormideros_, or
sleeping-places, see pp. 97, 98.
An all-important factor in their pursuit arises from an economic
necessity with wild-geese constantly to possess, and frequently to
renew, a store of sand or grit in their gizzards. To obtain this they
resort every morning to certain sandy spots in the marismas (hereinafter
described, and which are known as _vetas_); or failing that, when the
said _vetas_ are submerged, to the sand-dunes outside. Although great
numbers of geese resort each morning to these spots, yet those numbers
are but a small proportion of their entire aggregate, for no individual
goose needs to replenish his supply of sand or grit more often than
perhaps once a week, or even less frequently. Hence at each dawn it is a
fresh contingent of geese that comes in _para arenárse_ = to "sand
themselves," as our keepers put it.
One other quality in the natural economy of wild-geese requires
mention--that is, their sense of scent. This defence wild-geese possess
in equal degree with wild-ducks and most other wild creatures; but each
class differ in their modes of utilising it.
For whereas ducks on detecting human scent will take instant alarm and
depart afar on that indication alone; yet geese, on the other hand,
though their nostrils have fully advised them of the presence of danger,
will not at once take wing, but remain--with necks erect and all eyes
concentrated towards the suspect point--awaiting confirmation by sight
what they already know by scent.
That such is the case we ascertained in the days (now long past) when we
ventured to stalk geese with no more covert than the low fringe of rush
that borders the marisma. "_Gatiando_" = cat-crouching, our keepers term
the method--laborious work, creeping flat for, it may be, 200 yards,
through sloppy mud with less than two-foot of cover. Should it become
necessary during the stalk to go directly to windward of the fowl, one's
presence (though quite unseen) would be instantly detected. The geese,
ceasing to feed or rest, all stood to attention, while low, rumbling
alarm-signals resounded along their lines. But they did not take wing.
Presently, however, one reached a gap in the thickly growing rushes--it
might not extend to a yard in width, yet no sooner was but a glimpse
available to the keen eyes beyond, than the whole pack rose in
simultaneous clatter of throats and wings. They had merely waited that
scintilla of ocular confirmation of a known danger.
"DRIVING" (IN A DRY SEASON)
For four months no rain had fallen. The parched earth gaped with
cavernous cracks; vegetation was dried up; starving cattle stood about
listless, and every day one saw the assembled vultures devouring the
carcases of those already dead.
From the turrets of our shooting-lodge one's eye surveyed--no longer an
inland sea, but a monotone of sun-baked mud; inspection through
binoculars revealed the fact that this whole space was dotted with
troops of ... well, a friend who was with us thought they were sheep;
but which, in fact, were bands of greylag geese.
The fluctuations of Spanish seasons--varying from Noachian deluge to
Saharan drought--necessarily react upon the habits of wildfowl. These
changes are one of the charms of the country; at any rate, they "stretch
out" the fowler to devise some new thing.
Those battalions of greylags posted out there on a vantage-ground where
a mouse might be a prominent object at 100 yards, how can they be
reduced to possession? Our friend aforesaid replies that the undertaking
appears humanly impossible. We have, nevertheless, elaborated a system
of driving, by which in dry years the greylag geese may be obtained with
some degree of certainty.
This morning (the last of January) we rode forth, four guns and four
keepers, across that plain. Upon approaching the pack of geese selected,
one keeper rides to a position rather above the "half-wind" line, and
there halts as a "stop." The remaining seven ride on till, at a silent
signal, No. 1 gun, without checking his horse, passes the bridle forward
and rolls out of the saddle with gun and gear, lying at once flat as a
flounder on the bare dry mud. At intervals of eighty yards each
successive gun does the same, the four being now extended in a half-moon
that commands nearly a quarter-mile of space. The three keepers (leading
the other horses) continue riding forward in circular course till a
second "stop" is placed in the right flank corresponding with the one
already posted on the left. The last pair now complete the circuit by
riding round to windward of the game, separating by 200 yards as that
position is attained. (See diagram.)
[Illustration]
How are these four guns to conceal themselves on perfectly bare ground
from the telescopic sight of wild-geese? Occasionally, some small
natural advantage may be found--such as tufts of rushes--and these are
at once availed of. But this morning there is no such aid. Not a rush
nor a mole-hill breaks that dead-level monotone for miles; and in such
condition a human being, however flat he may lie, is bound to be
detected by the keen-eyed geese long ere they arrive within shot.[21] A
dozen twigs of tree-heath, dipped in wet mud and then allowed to dry, so
as to harmonise in colour with the surroundings, may be utilised; but
the annexed sketch shows better than words a portable screen we have
devised and which fulfils this purpose. It consists of four bamboo
sticks two feet long, sharpened at the point, and connected by four or
five strings with one-foot intervals. This when rolled up forms a bundle
no thicker than an umbrella. On reaching one's post the bundle unrolls
of itself, the sharpened points are stuck into the ground at an angle
sloping towards the prostrate gun, a few tufts of dead grass (carried in
one's pocket) are woven through the strings and the shelter is complete.
Needless to say, these preparations must be carried out with the minimum
of movement in face of such vigilant foes. Some assistance, however,
accrues from the geese continuing to watch the moving file of horsemen
while the prostrate gunner erects his screen.
[Illustration: SHELTERS FOR DRIVING WILD-GEESE]
Well, the circle being complete, all four drivers (distant now, say,
1000 yards) converge on the common centre. The watchful geese have
ceased grubbing up the spear-grass, and now stand alert with a forest
of necks erect, while an increasing volume of gabbling attests their
growing suspicion. Presently, with redoubled outcry, they rise on wing,
and now commences the real science of our Spanish fowlers. The guns,
after all, command but a small segment of the circle--anywhere else the
geese can break out scathless--and this mischance it is the object of
our drivers and flankers to avert. No sooner does the gaggling band
shift its course to port or starboard than the "stop" on that side is
seen to be urging his horse in full career to intercept their flight,
yet using such judgment as will neither deflect their course too much or
turn them back altogether. Sometimes both flankers and drivers are seen
to be engaged at once, and a pretty sight it is to the prostrate gunners
to watch the equestrian manoeuvres.
Presently the whole band head away for what appears the only available
outlet, and should they then pass directly over one or other of the
guns, are seldom so high but that a pair should be secured
right-and-left.
In strong gales of wind the geese, on being driven, are apt, instead of
taking a direct course, to circle around in revolving flight, gaining
altitude at each revolution; and in such case not only come in very high
but at incredible speed--_mas lejeros que zarcetas_--swifter than teal,
as Vasquez puts it.
The first essential of success in driving wild-geese (and the same
applies to great bustard and all large winged game) is to instal the
firing-line as near as may be without disturbing the fowl. The more
remote the guns the greater the difficulty in forcing the game through
the crucial pass.
To manoeuvre single bands of geese as above, three or four guns at
most, with the same number of drivers, are best. A great crowd of
horsemen (such being never seen in these wilds) unduly arouses
suspicions already acute enough. With any greater number of guns, it is
advisable to extend the field of operations to, say, two or three miles,
thereby enclosing several troops of geese--this requiring a large force
of drivers. It does not, however, follow that each of these enclosed
troops will "enter" to the guns; for should one pack come in advance,
the firing will turn back the others. This mischance--or rather
bungle--may be averted (or may not) by the leading driver firing a blank
shot behind so soon as the first geese are seen to have taken wing.
Needless to remark, once a shot has been fired ahead, it becomes
tenfold harder to force the remaining geese to the guns.
Each gun should hold his fire till the main bodies of geese are well on
wing and seen to be heading in towards the shooting-line. The "best
possible" chances are thus secured, and not for one gun only, but quite
possibly for all, as several hundred geese pass down the line. A
premature shot, on the contrary, will ruin the best-planned drive, and
bring down merited abuse from the rest of the party with scathing
contempt from the drivers.
Taking single troops at a time, as many as six or eight separate drives
may be worked into a long day. Our first drive to-day produced three
geese, the second was blank, while five greylags rewarded the third
attempt. In the last instance three of the guns received welcome aid
from a string of _ojos_, or land-springs, around which grew a fringe of
green rushes, affording excellent cover.
By four o'clock we had secured, in five drives, eleven geese and a
wigeon. We then, on information received, changing our plan, rode off to
a point which the keeper of that district had noted was being used by
the geese as a _dormidero_, or sleeping-place; and here, as dusk fell,
an hour's "flighting" added six more greylags to that day's total.
The above may be put down as a fair average day's results in a dry
season. From a dozen to a score of driven geese (and occasionally many
more) represent, with such game as greylags, a degree and a quality of
sport that is ill-represented by cold numerals.
There are spots in the marisma where the configuration of the shore-line
enables the flight of the geese, when disturbed, to be foretold with
certainty. For geese will not cross dry land: their retreat is always to
the open waters. In such situations excellent results accrue from
placing the gun-line at a _right angle_ to the expected line of flight,
while all the "beaters," save one or two to flush the fowl, are
stationed as "stops" between the geese and their objective. On rising,
the birds thus find themselves confronted by a long line of horsemen who
intercept their natural retreat, and, in effect, force them back towards
the land. Should the operation be well executed, the landmost gun will
probably be the first to fire; while the geese thereafter pass down the
entire line of guns, possibly affording shots to each in turn.
Two guns can then be effectively brought into action. Needless to add,
the second must be handled with the utmost rapidity.
In wet winters, when the marisma is submerged, "driving" is not
available. Obviously you cannot place a line of guns, however keen, in
six inches of water, much less in half-a-yard.
My first impression of wild-goose driving (writes J.) was one of
wonder that such intensely astute and wide-awake fowl would ever
fly near, much less over so obvious a danger as the little loose
semicircle of rosemary twigs behind which I lay prone on the barest
of bare mud. Peering through between their naked stalks, I could
plainly see the geese some half-mile away, and it seemed incredible
that I should not be equally visible to them. Possibly the brown
leaves on top of the twigs may have concealed me from the loftier
anserine point of view, and the equestrian manoeuvres beyond no
doubt greatly aided the object. Anyway, the whole pack--three or
four hundred, and proportionally noisy--_did_ come right over me,
and a wildly exciting moment it was, I can assure you! We had six
or seven drives that day, and bagged twenty-eight splendid great
grey geese, of which eight fell to my lot.
I may perhaps be allowed to add (since such details are taken for
granted, or regarded as unworthy of note by regular gunners of the
_marisma_) that to-day we had no less than six times to cross and
recross a broad marsh-channel called the _Madre_--floundering,
splashing, slithering, and stumbling through 100 yards of mud and
water full three-foot deep. It may be nothing (if you're used to
it), yet twice I've seen horses go down, and their riders take a
cold bath, lucky if they didn't broach their barrels! To follow
Vasquez about the _marisma_ is a job that requires special
qualities that not all of us possess or (perchance fortunately?)
require to possess.
The following instructions may be worth the attention of new
beginners:--
(1) Never fire till you are fairly certain to kill at least one.
(2) Never rise or even move in your "hide" till the beat is entirely
finished.
(3) Reload at once; when big lots are being moved, two, three, or more
chances may offer quite unexpectedly.
(4) Wear suitably coloured clothes and head-gear, and never let the sun
glint on the gun-barrels.
(5) After firing, watch the departing geese till nearly out of sight.
Though apparently unhurt, one of their company may turn over,
stone-dead, in the distance.
"FLIGHTING"--AN INCIDENT OF A DRY SEASON
The day above described was selected, not only because it affords a
typical illustration of our theme, but also because there had occurred
during its course an extraneous incident which serves to amplify this
exposition of the pursuit of the greylag goose.
Riding across the marisma, certain signs at once filled both our minds
with fresh ideas. All around the ground was littered with cast feathers
and other evidence proclaiming that this special spot was a regular
resort of geese. We were crossing one of those slightly raised ridges of
sand and grit which here and there intersect the otherwise universal
dead-level of alluvial mud, and which ridges are known locally as
_vetas_--tongues.
Now the nutritive economy of wild-geese, as already explained, requires
a frequently replenished store of sand or grit. In wet seasons (the
marisma being then submerged) the geese resort to the adjoining
sand-dunes of Doñana to secure these supplies. But in dry winters they
are enabled to obtain the necessary sand from these _vetas_; and it was
to this particular spot that, to the number of many hundreds, the geese
were evidently resorting at this period.
At once the measure of opportunity was gauged, and the arrangements
necessary for its exploitation were made. Within three minutes a
messenger was galloping homewards to summon a couple of men with spades
and buckets to prepare a hole wherein one of us might lie concealed at
daybreak. A pannier-mule to carry away the excavated material was also
requisitioned, since the least visible change in the earth's surface
would instantly be recognised by the geese as a danger-signal. Within a
few minutes we had resumed our course, to continue the day's sport.
[Illustration: WILD-GEESE IN THE MARISMA.]
Next morning half an hour before dawn the writer reached the spot. It
was pitch-dark and a dense fog prevailed. By what mental process my
guides directed an unerring course to that lonely hole in the midst of a
pathless and practically boundless waste passes understanding. Such
piloting (without aid of compass or even of the heavenly bodies--the
usual index on which marshmen rely) seems to indicate a point where
intellect and instinct touch; or perhaps rather a survival of the latter
quality which, in modern races, has become obsolete through disuse.
Among savage races that faculty of instinct is markedly prominent,
indeed the master-force; but there it has been acquired (or retained) at
the cost of intellect, which is not the case with our Spanish
friends--they possess both qualities. But place the best intellects of
Madrid, or Paris, or London in such conditions--in darkness, or fog, or
in viewless forest--and not one could hold a straight course for
half-a-mile. Within ten minutes each man would be lost, devoid of all
sense of direction. That is part of the price of the higher
civilisation--the loss of a faculty which need not clash with any other.
Of course where people live with a telephone at their ear, with electric
trams and "tubes" close at hand, where a whistle will summon an
attendant hansom and two a taxi-meter--or, as _Punch_ suggested, three
may bring down an airship--well, in such case, those modern "advantages"
may be held to outweigh the loss of a primitive natural faculty.
Hardly had a tardy light begun to strengthen to the dawn than the soft,
soliloquising "Gagga, gagga, gagga," with alternatively the raucous
"Honk-honk," resounded afar through the gloom. From seven o'clock
onwards geese were flying close around--so near that the rustling of
strong wings sounded almost within arm's-length; but that opaque fog
held unbroken and nothing could be seen. Long before eight I resolved to
quit and leave the fowl undisturbed for another morning rather than open
fire at so late an hour. Having a compass, I steered a good line to the
point where the horses awaited me, a mile away.
The following morning again broke foggy, though not quite so thick;
still I had only five geese at eight o'clock, when three packs coming
well in, in rapid succession, afforded three gratifying doubles. Total,
eleven geese.
Leaving the geese a few mornings' peace, on February 5 the authors
together occupied that hole at dawn. It proved a brilliant morning with
a fine show of geese. As each pack came in, we took it in turns to give
the word whether to fire or not. In the negative case, our eyes sank
gently below the surface of the earth, and crouching down we heard the
rush of wind-splitting pinions pass over and behind--probably to offer
a fairer mark when they next wheeled round. Then two, and often three,
great geese came hurtling downwards, to fall with resounding thuds
behind. Few mistakes occurred this morning and scarce a chance was
missed. But never could we succeed in working-in the two doubles at
once! The cramped space forbade that. The hole, having been dug for one,
gave no freedom of action for two guns; its floor, moreover, had now
become a compound of sticky glutinous clay a foot deep, and that further
hampered movements. Only one gun could work the second barrel.
After each shot, one of us jumped out and propped up the fallen geese as
decoys. To leave them lying about all-ends-up has a disastrous effect.
Ere the "flight" ceased we had five-and-twenty greylags down around our
hide, besides several others that had fallen at some distance, duly
marked by the keepers who now galloped off to gather these--say two
mule-loads of geese. The discovery of that lonely "sanding-place" had
had a concrete reward.
[Illustration]