THE GREAT BUSTARD (_Continued_)
The following illustrates in outline a day's bustard-shooting and
incidentally shows how strongly haunted these birds are, each pack to
its own particular locality.
On reaching our point (a seventeen-kilometres' drive), the scouts sent
out the day before reported three bands numbering roughly forty, forty,
and sixteen--in all nearly a hundred birds. The nearest lot was to the
west. These we found easily, and B. F. B. got a brace, right-and-left,
without incident.
Riding back eastwards, the second pack had moved, but we shortly
descried the third, in two divisions, a mile away. It being noon, the
bustards were mostly lying down or standing drowsily, and we halted for
lunch before commencing the operation.
During the afternoon we drove this pack three times, securing a brace on
first and third drives, while on the second the birds broke out to the
side.
Now bustards are, in Spanish phrase, _muy querenciosos_, _i.e._ attached
to their own particular terrain; and as in these three drives we had
pushed them far beyond their much-loved limit, they were now restless
and anxious to return.
Already before our guns had reached their posts for a fourth drive,
seven great bustards were seen on the wing, and a few minutes later the
remaining thirty took flight, voluntarily, the whole phalanx shaping
their course directly towards us. The outmost gun was still moving
forward to his post under the crest of the hill, and the pack, seeing
him, swerved across our line below, and (these guns luckily having seen
what was passing and taken cover) thus lost another brace of their
number.
The bustards shot to-day (January 16), though all full-grown males, only
weighed from 25-1/2 to 26-1/2 lbs. apiece. Two months later they would
have averaged over 30 lbs., the increased weight being largely due to
the abundant feed in spring, but possibly more to the solid distention
of the neck.[46]
This wet season (1908) the grass on the _manchones_, or fallows, was
rank and luxuriant, nearly knee-deep in close vegetation--more like
April than January. Already these bustards were showing signs of the
chestnut neck, and all had acquired their whiskers. The following winter
(1909) was dry and not a scrap of vegetation on the fallows. Even in
February they were absolutely naked and the cattle being fed on broken
straw in the byres.
The quill-feathers are pale-grey or ash-colour, only deepening into a
darker shade towards the tips, and that only on the first two or three
feathers. The shafts are white, secondaries black, and bastard-wing
lavender-white, slightly tipped with a darker shade.
In _Wild Spain_ will be found described two methods by which the great
bustard may be secured: (A) by a single gun riding quite alone; and (B)
by two guns working jointly, one taking the chance of a drive, the other
outmanoeuvring the game as in plan (A). We here add a third plan which
has occasionally stood us (when alone) in good stead.
On finding bustard on a suitable hill, leave your man to ride slowly to
and fro attracting the attention of the game till you have had time, by
hard running, to gain the reverse slope. The attendant then rides
forward, the whole operation being so punctually timed that you reach
the crest of the ridge at the same moment as the walking bustards have
arrived within shot thereof. Needless to add, this involves, besides
hard work, a considerable degree of luck, yet on several occasions we
have secured as many as four birds a day by this means.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "HURTLING THROUGH SPACE"]
The great bustard, one imagines, has few enemies except man, but the
following incident shows they are not entirely exempt from extraneous
dangers. In October, some years ago, the writer purposed spending a
couple of nights at a distant marsh in order to see whether any snipe
had yet come in. Our course led us through good bustard-country, and by
an early start I had hoped to exploit this in passing. Hardly had we
entered upon the corn-lands than we espied fifteen bustard, a
quarter-mile away on the right. The rough bridle-track being worn
slightly hollow and no better cover appearing, I decided to "flatten" on
the spot, sending my two men to ride round beyond the game, which, being
in a dip, was now below my range of sight. In due course the bustards
appeared, winging directly towards me, but alighting in front when
already almost in shot. Feeling practically certain of them now, since I
could hear the shouts of the beaters beyond, I raised myself slightly,
only to see, to my utter chagrin, the bustards flying off in
diametrically the opposite direction while simultaneously a hissing
sound from behind and overhead caused me to glance upwards. A black
object hurtling earthward through space, shot diagonally past me--this I
mistook as merely a peregrine pursuing some hare that had been disturbed
by the beaters. But on hastening forward over the ridge, I perceived one
of the beaters riding up with a dead bustard across his saddle--a
female, with a great gaping gash in her side. The beaters reported that
just as they flushed the bustard a second time an eagle had swept down
upon them, knocked down this one, and sent the rest, scattered in wild
disorder, over their heads. Paco had then galloped up to within a few
yards before the eagle reluctantly abandoned its prize and sailed aloft.
Continuing our interrupted journey, half a mile ahead another pack of
bustard was descried, and while rapidly surveying the situation, yet
another lot appeared on wing, flying from the right. These last, we
instantly concluded both from their direction and also by the curiously
unsettled style of their flight, were a part of the band which had
recently been attacked by the eagle. Under such circumstances I realised
that (though I was mounted and in full view) they might yet pass within
shot, so, jumping from the horse, I fired at the nearest old
cock-bustard and distinctly saw blood spirt from his snow-white breast.
He flew slowly away with ever lowering flight, finally disappearing over
a crest close by the scene of our first drive. Confident of gathering
him, we rode back, and on gaining the ridge witnessed this amazing
spectacle. In the hollow, 300 yards away, was a well with the usual
cross-bar and pulley for drawing water, and on the cross-bar sat an
eagle. Below on the ground stood the wounded bustard, facing-up to a
second great eagle, which kept flapping around him, apparently reluctant
to attack so huge a bird on the ground and in its then aggressive
attitude, and endeavouring to force it to fly.
So absorbed were both eagles on their quarry that I rode up unnoticed to
within 100 yards, and was making ready to fire when the two great birds
rose, that from the cross-bar flying away, while the other, not content
to resign his prize, circled overhead. In hope that he might descend I
concealed myself behind the well, always keeping one eye on the wounded
bustard, but presently the eagle had become a mere speck in the heavens.
The bustard all this time had remained standing close by, but on my
approach it rose quite strongly on wing, and had I not been loaded,
might yet have escaped.
[Illustration: DRAW-WELL WITH CROSS-BAR]
The aggressors were imperial eagles, and in their second attack had no
doubt realised that the quarry was already wounded. The first victim had
been knocked down, stone-dead, when absolutely sound and strong.
During summer these birds practically subsist on grasshoppers,
especially those in the heavy wingless stage known as _Cigarras
panzonas_. These disappear after July, being replaced by smaller and
more active varieties, which are equally relished. Once the females
commence laying among the spring corn (in April), the cock-bustards
assemble in widower packs (_toradas_) on the fallows, and especially on
_marismas_ adjacent to corn-land. By September both sexes, with the
young, reunite on the stubbles, where we have seen as many as 200
together.
It is in April that the old _barbones_ attain their full glory and
pride of sexual estate--resplendent in fierce whiskers and gorgeous
chestnut ruffs all distended with the seasonal condition. Courtship
begins in March, when the weird eccentric performances of the males,
flashing alternately white and rich orange against their green
environment, lend a characteristic touch to the vernal _vegas_--white
specks that appear and disappear as the lovelorn monsters revolve and
display, somewhat in the frenzied style of the blackcock on our own
northern moorlands. _Hechando la rueda_ the Spanish call it, as an old
_barbon_ majestically struts around turning himself, as it were, inside
out before an assembled harem that, to all appearance, takes no manner
of interest in his fantastic performance--perhaps the gentler sex
dissemble their depth of feeling? Then occur ferocious duels between
rival paladins. Long sustained are these and conspicuous afar, albeit
not very deadly. No life-blood may flow, but feathers fly ere the point
of honour is settled and the victor left in proud possession.
[Illustration: "HECHANDO LA RUEDA"]
These combats occur chiefly at break of day while tall herbage yet
remains soaked by nocturnal dews, and it occasionally happens that some
luckless champion, damaged and bedraggled, and with plumage saturated
through and through, when thus encountered, is found unable to fly and
so captured. Several such instances came under our notice years ago
and--rare though they may be--misled us in _Wild Spain_ to conclude that
the incapacity arose from a spring-moult--similar to that of wild-geese
and of some ducks. That, however, was an error. The loss of flight-power
arises, as stated, from the damaged and dew-saturated state of the
primaries, as is concisely set forth in a letter from our friend D. José
Pan Elberto as follows:--
Many persons undoubtedly believe (owing to bustards being captured
in spring unable to fly) that these birds moult all their quills at
once. That is not the case; but since in spring, when the
male-bustards engage in continuous fighting, the corn-growth is
already quite tall, and in the early mornings all vegetation is
saturated with night-dews, it occasionally happens that a bustard
may be met with incapable by this cause of taking wing--that is,
that some of the flight-feathers are lost or broken and all
dew-soaked (_rociadas_). The bustard moults gradually and never
loses the power of flight.
[Illustration: Great Bustard "SHEWING-OFF"--FROM LIFE.
FIRST ATTITUDE.
SECOND ATTITUDE.
THE SAME, BUT LOOKING UP AT A PASSING BIRD.
FINAL POSITION.]
[Illustration: TAIL-FEATHERS OF GREAT BUSTARD]
While never attaining the size of wild birds, yet bustards thrive well
in captivity--always assuming that they have been caught young. Old
birds brought home wounded never survive twenty-four hours, dying not
from the wound (which may be insignificant) but from _barinchin_, which
may be translated chagrin or a broken heart. Young bustards reared thus
become extremely tame, coming to call and feeding from the hand, though
when old the males are apt to grow vicious in spring, attacking savagely
children, dogs, and even women, especially those whom they see to be
afraid.[47] Tame as they are, they are always subject to strange alarms,
seemingly causeless. Suddenly they raise their wings, draw in their
heads, and dance around, jumping in air, and ever intently regarding the
heavens--sometimes dashing off under cover of bushes. One may connect
this exhibition with some speck in the sky, some passing eagle, more
often no motive is discernible. Bustard-chicks emit a plaintive whistle
so precisely similar to that of the kites that (when hatched out under a
domestic hen) the foster-mother has been so terrified as to desert her
brood. When adult, bustards are usually quite silent, save for a
grunting noise in spring--that is, in captivity. But on a hot day we
have heard the old males, when passing on a drive, utter panting
sounds, and (as already mentioned) a winged _barbon_ will turn to attack
with a sort of gruff bark--wuff, wuff--as his captor approaches.
So retentive is their memory that each year as May comes round our tame
bustards keep constantly on the look-out for the first cart-load of
green cut grass brought into the stable-yard for the horses. They even
follow it right into the loose-box where it is stored, in order to feast
on the grasshoppers it conceals, climbing all over the mountain of
grass, but never scratching as hens or pheasants would do.
THE LITTLE BUSTARD (_OTIS TETRAX_--SPANISH, _SISÓN_)
The little bustard may fairly claim the proud distinction that it alone
of all the game-birds on earth can utterly scorn and set at naught every
artifice of the fowler--modern methods and up-to-date appliances all
included. Here in Spain, though the bird itself is abundant enough (and
its flesh delicate and delicious), it so entirely defies every set
system of pursuit that no one nowadays attempts its capture. Practically
none are killed save merely by some chance or accidental encounter.
True, during the fiery noontides of July and August even the little
bustard enjoys a siesta and may then be shot. It will, in fact, "lie
close" before pointers and cackle like a cock-grouse as it rises from
those desolate _dehesas_ which form its home--vast stretches of rolling
veld where asphodel, palmetto, and giant thistles grow rampant as far as
eye can reach. But that scarce comes within our category of sport, since
a solar heat that can (even temporarily) tame a _sisón_ is quite likely
to finish off a Briton for good and all. And with the advent of autumn
and a relatively endurable temperature, in a moment the _sisón_ becomes
impossibly wild. Any idea of direct approach is simply out of the
question, but beyond that, this astute fowl has elaborated a
scheme--indeed a series of schemes--that nullifies even that one
remaining resource of baffled humanity, "driving." You may surround his
company, "horse-shoe" them with hidden guns--do what you will, not a
single _sisón_ will come in to the firing-line. You cannot diagnose
beforehand his probable line of flight, for he has none, nor can you
influence its subsequent direction. For the little bustard shuts off all
negotiation at its initiation by springing vertically in air, soaring
far above gunshot, and there indulging in fantastic aerial evolutions
more in the style of wigeon or other wildfowl than of a true game-bird
as he is. Thus from that celestial altitude he spies out the country and
all terrestrial dangers, finally disappearing afar amidst the wastes of
atmospheric space. Frequently we have noticed the high-flying band,
after, say, twenty minutes of such display of wing-power, descend
directly to their original position at a safe interval after the drivers
had passed forward thereof! Thus do they scorn our efforts and add
insult to injury.
[Illustration: LITTLE BUSTARD
Summer plumage.]
In practice no _sisónes_ whatever are killed in set drives, and for
twenty years we have abandoned the attempt as impossible. They
nevertheless--alike with every other fowl of the air--must, by
occasional mischance, fly into danger, and at such times, owing to their
habit of flying in massed formation, a heavy toll may be levied at a
single shot by a gunner who is alert to exploit the happy event. We have
ourselves, in this casual way, dropped from five to eight _sisónes_ with
the double charge.
Though frequenting the same open terrain as their big cousins, the
_sisónes_ distinctly prefer the rough stretches of palmetto, thistles,
and other rank herbage to corn-land proper--in short, they prefer to sit
where they can never be seen on the ground. Conspicuous as their white
plumage and resonant wing-rattle makes them in air, we can hardly recall
a dozen instances of having detected a pack of little bustard at
rest--and then merely in quite accidental and exceptional
circumstances. And even then (as indicated) the knowledge of their
precise position has seldom availed to their undoing.
By April the males have assumed a splendidly handsome breeding-dress.
The neck, swollen out like a jargonelle pear, is clad in rich
velvet-black, the long plumes behind glossy and hackle-like, and adorned
with a double gorget of white. All this finery is lost by August.
Thenceforward the sexes are alike save for the larger size and brighter
orange of the males, the females being smaller and yellower. They are
strictly monogamous, yet the males "show-off" in the same fantastic way
as great bustard and blackcock. About mid-May the female lays four
(rarely five) glossy olive-green eggs in the thick covert of thistles or
palmettos.
In summer the food of the little bustard consists of snails and small
grasshoppers, and on the table they are excellent, the breast being
large and prominent and displaying both dark and white flesh--the
latter, however, being confined to the legs.