THE GREAT BUSTARD
Over the vast expanse of those silent solitudes, the corn-growing
steppes of Spain--all but abandoned by human denizens--this grandest and
most majestic of European game-birds forms the chief ornament. When the
sprouting grain grows green in spring, stretching from horizon to
horizon, you may form his acquaintance to best advantage. And among the
things of sport are few more attractive scenes than a band of great
bustards at rest. Bring your field-glass to bear on the gathering which
you see yonder, basking in the sunshine in full enjoyment of their
mid-day siesta. There are five-and-twenty of them, and immense they look
against the green background of corn that covers the landscape--well may
a stranger mistake the birds for deer or goats. Many sit turkey-fashion,
with heads half sunk among back-feathers; others stand in drowsy yet
ever-suspicious attitudes, their broad backs resplendent with those
mottled hues of true game-colour, their lavender necks and well-poised
heads contrasting with the snowy whiteness of the lower plumage.[42] The
bustard are dotted in groups over an acre or two of gently sloping
ground, the highest part of which is occupied by a single big
_Barbudo_--a bearded veteran, the sentinel of the pack. From that
elevated position he estimates what degree of danger each living thing
that moves on the open region around may threaten to his company and to
himself. Mounted men cause him less concern than those on foot. A
horseman slowly directing a circuitous course may even approach to
within a couple of hundred yards ere he takes alarm. It was the head and
neck of this sentry that first appeared to our distant view and
disclosed the whereabouts of the game. He, too, has seen us, and is
even now considering whether there be sufficient cause for setting his
convoy in motion. If we disappear below the level of his range, he will
settle the point negatively, setting us down as merely some of those
agricultural nuisances which so often cause him alarm but which his
experience has shown to be generally harmless--for attempts on his life
are few and far between.
[Illustration: THE GREAT BUSTARD]
Another charming spectacle it is in the summer-time to watch a pack of
bustard about sunset, all busy with their evening feed among the
grasshoppers on a thistle-clad plain. They are working against time, for
it will soon be too dark to catch such lively prey. With quick darting
step they run to and fro, picking up one grasshopper after another with
unerring aim, and so intent on pursuit that the best chance of the day
is then offered to a gunner, when greed for a moment supplants caution
and vigilance is relaxed. But even now a man on foot stands no chance of
coming anywhere near them. His approach is observed from afar, all heads
are up above the thistles, every eye intent on the intruder; a moment or
two of doubt, two quick steps and a spring, and the broad wings of every
bird in the pack flap in slowly rising motion. The tardiness and
apparent difficulty in rising from the ground which bustards exhibit is
well expressed in their Spanish name _Avetarda_[43] and recognised in
the scientific cognomen of _Otis tarda_. Once on the wing the whole
band is off with wide swinging flight to the highest ground in the
neighbourhood.
The chase of the great bustard presents characteristics and attractions
peculiar to itself and differing from that of all other winged game.
Rather it resembles the scientific pursuit of big game; for this is a
sport in which the actual shot becomes of secondary importance, merely a
culminating incident--the consummation of previous forethought,
fieldcraft, and generalship. Success in bustard-shooting--alike with
success in stalking--is usually attributable to the leader, who has
planned the operation and directed the strategy, rather than to the man
who may have actually killed the game. We here refer exclusively to what
we may be permitted to call the scientific aspect of this chase, as
practised by ourselves and as distinguished from other (and far more
deadly) methods in vogue among the Spanish herdsmen and peasantry.
Before describing the former system, let us glance at native methods of
securing the great bustard.
During the greater part of the year bustard are far too wary to be
obtained by the farm-hands and shepherds who see them every day--so
accustomed are the peasantry to the sight of these noble birds that
little or no notice is taken of them and their pursuit regarded as
impracticable. There is, however, one period of the year when the great
bustard falls an easy prey to the clumsiest of gunners.
[Illustration]
During the long Andalucian summer a torrid sun has drunk up every brook
and stream that crosses the cultivated lands; the chinky, cracked mud,
which in winter formed the bed of shallow lakes and lagoons, now yields
no drop of moisture for bird or beast. The larger rivers still carry
their waters from sierra to sea, but an adaptive genius is required to
utilise these for purposes of irrigation. All water required for the
cattle is drawn up from wells; the old-world lever with its bucket at
one end and counterpoise at the other has to provide for the needs of
all. These wells are distributed all over the plains. As the herdsmen
put the primitive contrivance into operation and swing up bucketful
after bucketful of cool water, the cattle crowd around, impatient to
receive it as it rushes down the stone troughing. The thirsty animals
drink their fill, splashing and wasting as much as they consume, so that
a puddle is always formed about these _bebideros_. The moisture only
extends a few yards, gradually diminishing, till the trickling streamlet
is lost in the famishing soil.
These moist places are a fatal trap to the bustard. Before dawn one of
the farm-people will conceal himself so as to command at short range all
points of the miniature swamp. A slight hollow is dug for the purpose,
having clods arranged around, between which the gun can be levelled with
murderous accuracy. As day begins to dawn, the bustard will take a
flight in the direction of the well, alighting at a point some few
hundred yards distant. They satisfy themselves that no enemy is about,
and then, with cautious, stately step, make for their morning draught.
One big bird steps on ahead of the rest; and as he cautiously draws
near, he stops now and again to assure himself that all is right and
that his companions are coming too--these are not in a compact body, but
following at intervals of a few yards. The leader has reached the spot
where he drank yesterday; now he finds he must go a little nearer to the
well, as the streamlet has been diverted; another bird follows close;
both lower their heads to drink; the gunner has them in line--at twenty
paces there is no escape; the trigger is pressed, and two magnificent
bustards are done to death. Should the man be provided with a second
barrel (which is not usual), a third victim may be added to his
morning's spoils.
Comparatively large numbers of bustard are destroyed thus every summer.
It is deadly work and certain. Luckily, however, the plan enjoys but a
single success, since bands, once shot at, never return.
A second primitive method of capturing the great bustard is practised in
winter. The increased value of game during the colder months induces the
bird-catchers, who then supply the markets with myriads of ground-larks,
linnets, buntings, etc., occasionally to direct their skill towards the
capture of bustard by the same means as prove efficacious with the small
fry--that is, the _cencerro_, or cattle-bell, combined with a dark
lantern.
As most cattle carry the cencerro around their necks, the sound of the
bell at close quarters by night causes no alarm to ground-birds. The
bird-catcher, with his bright lantern gleaming before its reflector and
the cattle-bell jingling at his wrist, prowls nightly around the
stubbles and wastes in search of roosting birds. Any number of
bewildered victims can thus be gathered, for larks and such-like birds
fall into a helpless state of panic when once focussed in the rays of
the lantern.
When the bustard is the object of pursuit, two men are required, one of
whom carries a gun. The pack of bustard will be carefully watched during
the afternoon, and not lost sight of when night comes until their
sleeping-quarters are ascertained. When quite dark, the tinkling of the
_cencerro_ will be heard, and a ray of light will surround the devoted
bustards, charming or frightening them--whichever it may be--into still
life. As the familiar sound of the cattle-bell becomes louder and
nearer, the ray of light brighter and brighter, and the surrounding
darkness more intense, the bustards are too charmed or too dazed to fly.
Then comes the report, and a charge of heavy shot works havoc among
them. As bands of bustards are numerous, this poaching plan might be
carried out night after night; but luckily the bustards will not stand
the same experience twice. On a second attempt being made, they are off
as soon as they see the light approaching.
[Illustration: CALANDRA LARK
A large and handsome species characteristic of the corn-lands.]
The third (and by far the most murderous) means of destruction is due,
not so much to rural peasantry as to _cazadores_--shooters from
adjoining towns--men who should know better, and whom, in other
respects, we might rank as good sportsmen; but who, alas! can see no
shame in shooting the hen-bustards with their half-fledged broods in the
standing corn during June and July--albeit the deed is done in direct
contravention of the game-laws! Dogs, especially pointers, are employed
upon this quest when the mother-bustards, being reluctant to leave their
young, lie as close as September partridges in a root-crop; while the
broods, either too terrified or too immature to fly, are frequently
caught by the dogs. We regret that there are those who actually descant
with pride upon having slaughtered a dozen or more of these helpless
creatures in a day; while others are only restrained from a like crime
by the scorching solar heats of that season.
More bustards are killed thus than by all the other methods combined--a
hundred times more than by our scientific and sportsmanlike system of
driving presently to be described.
Except for this unworthy massacre of mothers with their broods in
summer, and the two clumsy artifices before mentioned, the bustards are
left practically unmolested--their wildness and the open nature of their
haunts defy all the strategy of native fowlers. The hen-bustard deposits
her eggs--usually three, but on very rare occasions four--among the
green April corn; incubation and the rearing of the young take place in
the security of vast silent stretches of waving wheat. The young
bustards grow with that wheat, and, ere it is reaped (unless prematurely
massacred), are able to take care of themselves. A somewhat more
legitimate method of outwitting the great bustard is practised at this
season. During harvest, while the country is being cleared of crops, the
birds become accustomed to see bullock-carts daily passing with creaking
wheel to carry away the sheaves from the stubble to the _era_, or
levelled threshing-ground, where the grain is trodden out, Spanish
fashion, by teams of mares. The loan of a _carro_ with its pair of oxen
and their driver having been obtained, the cart is rigged up with
_estéras_--that is, esparto-matting stretched round the uprights which
serve to hold the load of sheaves in position. A few sacks of straw
thrown on the floor of the cart save one, in some small degree, from the
merciless jolting of this primitive conveyance on rough ground. Two or
three guns can find room therein, while the driver, lying forward,
directs the team with a goad.
This moving battery fairly resembles a load of sheaves, and well do we
remember the terrible, suffocating heat we have endured, shut up for
hours in this thing during the blazing days of July and August. The
result, nevertheless, repays all suffering. We refer to no mere
cynegetic pride but to the enduring joy of observing, at close quarters
and still unsuspicious, these glorious game-birds at home on their
private plains. The local idea is to fire through a slit previously made
in the _estéras_; but somehow, when the cart stops and the game
instantly rises, you find (despite care and practice) that the birds
always fly in a direction you cannot command or where the narrow slit
forbids your covering them. Hence we adopted the plan of sliding off
behind as the cart pulled up, thus firing the two barrels with perfect
freedom. We have succeeded by this means in bringing to bag many pairs
of bustard during a day's manoeuvring.
[Illustration: SPANISH THISTLE AND STONECHAT]
We now come to the system of bustard-driving, which we regard as
practically the only really legitimate method of dealing with this grand
game. From the end of August onwards the young bustards are perfectly
capable of taking care of themselves. The country is then cleared of
crops, and while this precludes the birds being "done to death" as in
the weeks immediately preceding, yet the ubiquitous thistles (often of
gigantic size, ten or twelve feet in height), charlock, and _viznagas_
provide welcome covert for concealing the guns, while the heat still
renders the game somewhat more susceptible to the artifices of the
fowler. This is the easiest period.
As the season advances the hunter's difficulties increase. The brown
earth becomes daily more and more naked, while files of slow-moving
ox-teams everywhere traverse the stubble, ploughing league-long furrows
twenty abreast. These factors combine to aid the game and stretch to its
utmost limit the venatic instincts of the fowler.
Let us now attempt to describe a day's bustard-driving on scientific
lines. The district having being selected, it is advisable to send out
the night before a trustworthy scout who will sleep at the _cortijo_ and
be abroad with the dawn in order to locate precisely the various
_bandadas_, or troops of bustard, in the neighbourhood. The
shooting-party (three or four guns for choice, but in no case to exceed
six[44]) follow in the morning--riding, as a rule, to the rendezvous;
though should there be a high-road available it is sometimes convenient
to drive (or nowadays even to motor), having in that case sent the
saddle-horses forward, along with the scout, on the previous day.
Arrived at the _cortijo_, the scout brings in his report, and at once
guns and drivers, all mounted, proceed towards the nearest of the marked
_bandadas_. Not only are the distances to be covered so great as to
render riding a necessity, but the use of horses has this further
advantage that bustard evince less fear of mounted men and thus permit
of nearer approach. The drivers should number three--the centre to flush
the birds, two flankers to gallop at top speed in any direction should
the game diverge from the required course or attempt to break out
laterally.
Ten minutes' ride and we are within view of our first _bandada_ still a
mile away. They may be feeding on some broad slope, resting on the crest
of a ridge, or dawdling on a level plain; but wherever the game may
be--whatever the strategic value of their position--at least the
decision of our own tactics must be clinched at once. No long lingering
with futile discussion, no hesitation, or continued spying with the
glass is permissible. Such follies instil instant suspicion into the
astute brains on yonder hill, and the honours of the first round pass to
the enemy.
For this reason it is imperative to appoint one leader vested with
supreme authority, and whose directions all must obey instantly and
implicitly.
Needless to say, that leader must possess a thorough knowledge both of
the habits of bustard and the lie of a country--along with the rather
rare faculty of diagnosing at a glance its "advantages," its dangers,
and its salient points over some half-league of space. None too common
an attribute that, where all the wide prospect is grey or green, varying
according to ever-changing lights, and the downlands so gently graded as
occasionally to deceive the very elect. Much of the bustard-country
appears all but flat, so slight are its folds and undulations; while
even the more favouring regions are rarely so boldly contoured as
Salisbury Plain. The leader must combine some of the qualities of a
field-marshal with the skill of a deer-stalker, and a bit of red-Indian
sleuth thrown in. Luckily, such masters of the craft are not entirely
lacking to us.
The thoughts revolving in the leader's mind during his brief survey
follow these general lines: First, which is (_a_) the favourite and
(_b_) the most favourable line of flight of those bustards when
disturbed; secondly, where can guns best be placed athwart that line;
thirdly, how can the guns reach these points unseen? A condition
precedent to success is that the firing-line shall be drawn around the
bustards fairly close up, yet without their knowledge. Now with
wild-game in open country devoid of fences, hollows, or covert of any
description that problem presents initial difficulties that may well
appear insuperable. But they are rarely quite so. It is here that the
fieldcraft of the leader comes in. He has detected some slight fold that
will shelter horsemen up to a given point, and beyond that, screen a
crouching figure to within 300 yards of the unconscious _bandada_.
Rarely do watercourses or valleys of sufficient depth lend a welcome
aid; recourse must usually be had to the reverse slope of the hill
whereon the bustards happen to be. Without a halt, the party ride round
till out of sight. At the farthest safe advance, the guns dismount and
proceed to spread themselves out--so far as possible in a
semicircle--around the focal point.[45] At 80 yards apart, each lies
prone on earth, utilising such shelter (if any) as may exist on the
naked decline--say skeleton thistles, a tuft of wild asparagus, or on
rare occasion some natural bank or tiny rain-scoop.
[Illustration: GREAT BUSTARD--YOUNG.
(1) AS HATCHED.
(2) AT TWENTY DAYS OLD.
(3) AT ONE MONTH.]
[Illustration: SLENDER-BILLED CURLEW (NUMENIUS TENUIROSTRIS).
[See Chapter on "Bird-life," _infra._]]
Having now succeeded in placing his guns unseen and within a fatal
radius, the leader may congratulate himself that his main object has
been achieved. On the nearness of the line to the game, and on his
correct diagnosis of the bustards' flight depends the issue.
[It may be added that bustard are occasionally found in situations that
offer no reasonable hope of a successful drive. It may then (should no
others be known within the radius of action) become advisable gently to
"move" the inexpugnable troop; remembering that once these birds realise
that they are being "driven," the likelihood of subsequently putting
them over the guns has enormously decreased. There accrues an incidental
advantage in this operation, for after "moving" them to more favouring
ground, it will not be necessary to line-up the guns quite so near as is
usually essential to success. For bustards possess so strong an
attachment to their _querencias_, or individual haunts, that they may be
relied upon, on being disturbed a second time, to wing a course more or
less in the direction of their original position. We give a specific
instance of this later.
Each pack of bustard has its own _querencia_, and will be found at
certain hours to frequent certain places. This local knowledge, if
obtainable, saves infinite time and vast distances traversed in search
of game whose approximate positions, after all, may thus be ascertained
beforehand.]
* * * * *
Now we have placed our guns in line and within that short distance of
the unsuspecting game that all but assures a certain shot. We cannot,
let us confess, recall many moments in life of more tense excitement
than those spent thus, lying prone on the gentle slope listening with
every sense on stretch for the cries of the galloping beaters as in wild
career they urge the huge birds towards a fatal course. Before us rises
the curving ridge, its summit sharply defined against an azure
sky--azure but empty. Now the light air wafts to our ear the tumultuous
pulsations of giant wings, and five seconds later that erst empty ether
is crowded with two score huge forms. What a scene--and what commotion
as, realising the danger, each great bird with strong and laboured
wing-stroke swerves aside. One enormous _barbon_ directly overhead
receives first attention; a second, full broadside, presents no more
difficulty, and ere the double thuds behind have attested the result, we
realise that a third, shying off from our neighbour, is also "our meat."
This has proved one of our luckier drives, for the _bandada_, splitting
up on the centre, offered chances to both flanks of the blockading
line--chances which are not always fully exploited.
[Illustration: SWERVE ASIDE TO RIGHT AND LEFT]
We have stated, earlier in this chapter, that among the various
component factors in a bustard-drive the actual shot is of minor
importance. That is so; yet truly remarkable is the frequency with which
good shots constantly miss the easiest of chances at these great birds.
Precisely similar failures occur with wild-geese, with swans--indeed
with all big birds whose wing-action is deliberate and slow. Tardy
strokes deceive the eye, and the great bulk of the bustard accentuates
the deception--it seems impossible to miss them, a fatal error. As the
Spanish drivers put it: "Se les llenaron el ojo de carne," literally,
"the bustards had filled your eye with meat"--the hapless marksmen saw
everything bustard! Yet geese with their 40 strokes fly past ducks at
120, and the bustard's apparently leisured movement carries him in full
career as fast as whirring grouse with 200 revolutions to the minute. To
kill bustard treat them on the same basis as the smaller game that
appears faster but is not.
Bustards being soft-plumaged are not hard to kill. As compared with such
ironclads as wild-geese, they are singularly easily killed, and with
AAA shot may be dropped stone-dead at 80 and even at 100 yards. A pair
of guns may thus profitably be brought into action.
Bustards seldom run, but they walk very fast, especially when alarmed.
Between the inception of a drive and the moment of flushing we have
known them to cover half a mile, and many drives fail owing to game
having completely altered its original position. Instances have occurred
of bustards walking over the dividing ridge, to the amazement of the
prostrate sportsmen on the hither slope. Strange to say, when winged
they do not make off, but remain where they have fallen, and an old male
will usually show fight. Of course if left alone and out of sight a
winged bustard will travel far.
In weight cock-bustard vary from, say, 20 to 22 lbs. in autumn, up to 28
to 30 lbs. in April. The biggest old males in spring reach 33 and 34
lbs., and one we presented to the National Collection at South
Kensington scaled 37 lbs. The breast-bone of these big birds is usually
quite bare, a horny callosity, owing to friction with the ground while
squatting, and the heads and necks of old males usually exhibit gaps in
their gorgeous spring-plumage--indicative of severe encounters among
themselves. Hen-bustard seldom exceed 15 lbs. at any season.
Bustard are usually found in troops varying from half-a-dozen birds to
as many as 50 or 60, and in September we have seen 200 together.
Bustard-shooting--by which we mean legitimate driving during the winter
months, September to April--is necessarily uncertain in results. Some
days birds may not even be seen, though this is unusual, while on others
many big bands may be met with. Hence it is difficult to put down an
average, though we roughly estimate a bird a gun as an excellent day's
work. A not unusual bag for six guns will be about eight head; but we
have a note of two days' shooting in April (in two consecutive years)
when a party of eight guns, all well-known shots, secured 21 and 22
bustard respectively, together with a single lesser bustard on each day.
This was on lands between Alcantarillas and Las Cabezas, but it is fair
to add that the ground had been carefully preserved by the owner and the
operation organised regardless of expense.
A minor difficulty inherent to this pursuit is to select the precise
psychological moment to spring up to shooting-position. This indeed is a
feature common to most forms of wild-shooting--such as duck-flighting,
driving geese or even snipe; in fact there is hardly a really wild
creature that can be dealt with from a comfortable position erect on
one's legs. Imagine partridge-shooters at home, instead of standing
comfortably protected by hedge or butt, being told to hide themselves on
a wet plough or bare stubble. Here, in Spain, it may also be necessary
to conceal the gun under one's right side (to avoid sun-glints), and
that also loses a moment.
[Illustration: BUSTARDS PASSING FULL BROADSIDE]
All one's care and elaborate strategy is ofttimes nullified through the
blunders of a novice. Some men have no more sense of concealment than
that fabled ostrich which is said to hide its head in the sand (which it
doesn't); others can't keep still. These are for ever poking their heads
up and down or--worse still--trying to see what is occurring in front.
We may conclude this chapter with a hint or two to new hands.
Never move from your prone position till the bustard are in shot, and
after that, not till you are sure the whole operation is complete. There
may yet be other birds enclosed though you do not know it.
Never claim to have wounded a bustard merely because it passed so near
and offered so easy a shot that you can't believe you missed it. You did
miss it or it would be lying dead behind.
All the same keep one eye on any bird you have fired at so long as it
remains in view. Bustards shot through the lungs will sometimes fly half
a mile and then drop dead.
Wear clothes suited, more or less, to environment--_greenish_, we
suggest, for choice--but remember that immobility is tenfold more
important than colour. A pure white object that is quiescent is
overlooked, where a clod of turf that _moves_ attracts instant
attention.
In spring, when bustards gorge on green food, gralloch your victims at
once, otherwise the half-digested mass in the crop quickly decomposes
and destroys the meat.
* * * * *
Here is an example of an error in judgment that practically amounted to
a blunder. Before our well-concealed line stood a grand pack, between
thirty and forty bustard beautifully "horseshoed," and quite unconscious
thereof. Momentarily we expected their entry--right in our faces! At
that critical moment there appeared, wide on the right flank and
actually behind us, three huge old _barbones_ directing a course that
would bring them along close in rear of our line. No. 4 gun, on extreme
right, properly allowed this trio to pass; not so No. 3. But the
culprit, on rising to fire, had the chagrin to realise (too late) his
error. The whole superb army-corps in front were at that very moment
sweeping forward direct on the centre of our line! In an instant they
took it in, swerved majestically to the left, and escaped scot-free.
That No. 3 had secured a right-and-left at the adventitious trio in no
sort of way exculpated his mistake.