IN THE SIERRA NEVÁDA (_Continued_)
ITS BIRD-LIFE IN SPRING-TIME
The long snow-lines of the sierra had vanished behind whirling
cloud-masses, black and menacing. The green avenues of the Alhambra
seemed gloomier than ever under a heavy downpour, while troops of
rain-soaked tourists belied the glories of an Andalucian springtide.
[Illustration: "UNEMPLOYED"
Bee-eaters on a wet morning.]
Serins sang in the elms, and wrynecks noisily courted, as we set forth
with a donkey-team for the sierra. On former occasions we had explored
northwards up the Darro towards Jaën, another year up the Genil, this
spring we had selected the valley of the Monachil. Hardly had we entered
the mountains than thunder crackled overhead, and then a rain-burst
drove us to shelter in a cave. Next day broke ominous enough, but we
rode on up the wild gorge of the Monachil, and after seven hours'
hill-climbing reached the alpine farm of San Gerónimo, to the guarda of
which we had a recommendation. The house nestles beneath the serrated
ridge of the Dornájo, 6970 feet.
With some dismay we found assembled at this outlandish spot quite a
small crowd of men, women, and children who, with dogs, pigs, hens, and
an occasional donkey, all appeared to inhabit a single smoke-filled
room. We were bidden to take seats amidst this company, and watched the
attempt to boil an enormous pan of potatoes over a green brushwood
fire, while domestic animals (including cattle) passed freely through to
the byres beyond. These being on higher ground had created in front a
sort of quagmire, which was crossed by a plank-bridge. Rain was falling
smartly, and the writer's spirits, be it confessed, sank to zero at the
prospect of a week or two in such quarters. Worse situations, however,
have had to be faced, and usually yield to resolute treatment. Thus when
a separate room--albeit but a dirty potato store--had been assigned to
us, trestle-beds and a table set up, the quality of comfort advanced in
quite disproportionate degree.
Now the Sierra Neváda with its league-long lines of unbroken snow,
accentuated by the mystery of the towering Veleta, massive Mulahacen,
and the rest, presents an alpine panorama that is absolutely unrivalled
in all the Peninsula. But immediately below those transcendent
altitudes, in its middle regions the Sierra Neváda is lacking in many of
those attributes that charm our eyes--naturalists' eyes. Over vast areas
and on broad shoulders of the hills the winter-snows linger so long that
plant-life, where not actually extinct, is scant and starved; while
these dreary inchoate stretches are strewn broadcast with a debris of
shale and schist that resembles nothing so much as one of nature's giant
rubbish tips. True, there exists a sporadic brushwood, exiguous,
dwarfed, and intermittent; there are scattered trees, ilex and pinaster
(_Pinus pinaster_), up to about 7000 feet. But all seems barren by
comparison. One's eye hungers for the deep jungles of Moréna, for the
dark-green _pinsapos_ of San Cristobal, or the stately granite walls of
Grédos. Here all is on a big scale, the biggest in Spain; but size alone
does not itself constitute beauty, and the adornments of beauty are
lacking. We write of course not as mountaineers, but as naturalists.
It boots not to tell of days when rain fell in sheets and an icy
_neblina_ swept the hills, shrouding their summits from view. A single
ornithological remembrance shall be recorded--the abundance of certain
northern-breeding species on the middle heights, especially common
wheatears and skylarks. After watching these carefully, we were
convinced by their actions (their song, courting, and fluttering flight)
that both intended to nest here at 7000 feet, and dissection confirmed
that view. Time alone prevented our settling the point; but a month
later (say early in June) an ornithologist could easily verify the fact.
May the 1st broke bright and clear, not a cloud in the azure firmament.
The songs of hoopoes, serins, and a cuckoo resounded hard by, and from
our paneless window we watched three glorious rock-thrushes "displaying"
before their sober mates--as sketched at p. 18. Within sight among the
tumbled boulders were also a pair of blue thrushes, with a woodlark or
two, several black-starts, and rock-buntings.
[Illustration: WOODLARK (_Alauda arborea_)
Nests in Neváda up to 5000 feet, and in the pine-forests of Doñana at
sea-level.]
We bathed in an ice-cold burn with temperature little above freezing--at
dawn, indeed, the backwaters were ice-bound. Then, mounted on a donkey,
the writer alternately scrambled up the stony steeps or dragged the
sure-footed beastie behind. The gentler slopes were fairly clad with
yellow daffodil or narcissus, now just coming into bloom, and above 7000
feet we entered a zone of dwarf-arbutus and ilex-scrub. The warm
sunshine brought out numerous butterflies--it seemed strange to see
these frail creatures fluttering across open snows! Most of those
recognised were tortoise-shells, rather paler than our own.
Alas, before noon the icy mists once more swept up. In a crevice among
some rocks where we sought shelter at 8000 feet the skeleton of a
wheatear attested the cruel conditions of bird-life--death by
starvation. Here we separated, the writer going for a snow-scramble,
following the dwindling Monachil to its source, where the nascent river
trickles in triple streamlets down black rock-walls mantled by impending
snow-fields. Here snow lay in scattered patches dotted with the
resurgent unkillable "pincushion" gorse (_Buphaurum spinosum_) and a
spiny broom that later develops a purple blossom, and separated by
intervals where the melting mantle had left Mother Earth viscous and
inchoate, heart-broken at the indignity of eight months in the arctic.
Higher up the snow became continuous, but seamed by innumerable rills,
each laughing and dancing as in delight at a new-found existence, or
converging to join streams in buoyant exuberance. Some leapt forward
through fringing margins of emerald moss; others ploughed sullen ways
beneath an overhung snow-brae. But no chirp or sound of bird-life broke
the silence, the only living creatures were ants and a bronze-green
beetle! (_Pterostichus rutilans_, Dej.)--not a sign of those alpine
forms we had specially come to seek.
[Illustration]
From 8500 feet the snow stretched upwards unbroken (save where some
sheer escarpment protruded), covering in purest white the vast shoulder
of the Veleta. The Picácho itself was to-day hidden amidst swirling
clouds, and only once did we enjoy a momentary glimpse of its great
scarped outline. Yet in three short weeks, say by May 20, all these
leagues of solid snow will have vanished.
Facing this gorge of the Monachil, the opposite slope is crowned by the
conspicuous turreted crags known as the Peñones de San Francisco, 8460
feet. To these L. had climbed, and though we both failed in finding the
chief of our special objects (the snow-finch) yet L. had enjoyed a
glimpse of another alpine species, new to us, and we decided to revisit
the spot on the morrow.
That morning again broke fine, the precursor of a glorious day. Hardly
had we left our quarters than a lammergeyer soared overhead, then,
gently closing his giant wings, plunged into a cavern above. Five
minutes later he reappeared and, after several aerial evolutions,
suddenly checked and, with indrawn pinions, swept downwards to earth.
Ere we could surmount an intervening ridge, the great dragon-like
_Gypaëtus_ swept into view, his golden breast gleaming in the early
sunlight, and bearing in his talons a long bone with which he sailed
across the valley towards Trevenque; we watched to see the result, but,
so far as prism-glasses could reach, that bone was never dropped.
Probably he had some special spot habitually used for bone-breaking.
Later a griffon-vulture (a species rarely seen in Neváda) passed
overhead, and then a second lammergeyer sailed up the gorge of Monachil.
[Illustration: SOARING VULTURE]
'Tis a long up-grade grind to the Peñones, but repaid by magnificent
views of the Picácho de la Veleta--its scarped outline gloriously offset
against the deepest azure and its 1000-foot sheer drop vanishing to
unseen depths in the mysterious "corral" beneath--an inspiring scene.
Beyond to the eastward towered the mountain-mass,
Mulahacen--perpetuating the name of that Moslem chief whose remains, so
tradition records, yet lie in some unknown glacial niche in this the
loftiest spot of all the Spains. There they were laid to rest by the
fond hands of Zoraya, at the dying request of her husband the
penultimate Moorish king, Muley-Hacen.
Our upward course led through beds of dwarf-juniper, thick strong stems
all flattened down horizontally by the weight of winters' snows,
precisely as one sees them on the high fjelds of Norway. Here, both
to-day and yesterday, we observed ring-ouzels, doubtless nesting amid
the dense covert.
We soon picked up our friends of yesterday--small hedge-sparrow-like
birds with blue-grey throat, striated back, and red patches on either
flank, the alpine accentor. At first they were fairly tame, allowing us
to watch and sketch them perched on lowly shrub or rock, warbling a
sweet little carol (louder, but otherwise resembling that of our
hedge-sparrow), or darting to pick up a straying ant. After a while that
confidence, though wholly unabused, vanished; they became wild and
cautious, refusing to allow us a single specimen! These birds were
evidently paired, but showed no signs of nesting. Alas, that a drawing
by Commander Lynes depicting the scene with the Picácho de la Veleta in
the background refuses to "reproduce"!
These were the only accentors we saw, nor did we see to-day or any other
day a single snow-finch.
* * * * *
_An Alpine Farm._--The lands of San Gerónimo (where we were quartered)
extend up the Monachil to either watershed--a length of 4-1/2 leagues,
while the breadth cannot average less than two. The acreage we leave to
be calculated by those who care for such detail. At this date (early
May) certainly one-half lay under snow, which still encumbered the
higher patches of cultivation--to-day we saw men unearthing last
autumn's crop of potatoes well above the snow-line. At lower levels some
corn already stood six inches high, but many "fields" were necessarily,
as yet, unploughed. Fields, by the way, were separated not, as at home,
by hedges, but sometimes by a sheer drop of 500 or 1000 feet, elsewhere
by perpendicular rock-faces or by shale-shoots. But the laborious
cultivation missed not one level patch--nor unlevel either, since we saw
ox-teams ploughing where one wondered if even a cat could maintain a
footing.
This is the highest farm in Neváda, possibly in all Spain. The house
stands at 6000 feet and the lands extend to the Veleta, 11,597 feet. It
provides grazing for goats and sheep, as well as a small herd of cattle,
and thus affords permanent employment to several herdsmen. But at
seed-time and harvest it employs as many as twenty or thirty men who,
with their dependents, live in rude esparto-thatched huts scattered over
the whole fifteen miles, and it was the numbers of these (assembled for
pay-day) that had caused us some consternation on our first arrival!
The value of the farm, we were told, is put at £8000 Spanish,
representing some £400 as yearly rental.
Two years before, wolves had become such a pest to the flocks that
strychnine was universally resorted to, with the result that to-day not
a wolf is to be seen in the whole sierra. Foxes also perished, and the
guarda, Manuel Gallegos, told us that he had thus obtained several
wild-cats (_Gatos montéses_) whose skins fetched 20 pesetas apiece as
ladies' furs. The following day we chanced on a dead marten-cat,
evidently killed by poison; and on showing it to Manuel with the remark
that that was _not_ a _gato montés_, he replied: "No, señor, that is a
_garduño; pero lo mismo da_" = "it's all the same!" Accuracy in
definition is not a strong point with Manuel, nor indeed is it with any
of our Spanish friends.
Martens are the commoner animal in Neváda; there may, nevertheless, be a
few true wild-cats, and there certainly are some lynxes. The four-footed
fauna of Neváda is sadly limited. There are neither deer of any
kind--red, roe, or fallow--nor wild-boar. Bare rocks afford no covert
for these: there is, of course, one compensating equivalent in the ibex.
Small game is equally conspicuous by its absence. Local _cazadores_
(each of whom, of course, possesses a decoy-bird--_reclamo_) enlarge on
the abundance of partridge and hares, yet we saw hardly any game whether
here on the Monachil, on the Genil, Darro, or at any of the points
whereon we have explored the Sierra Neváda. There must, however, be a
sprinkling to maintain the golden eagles and peregrines, both of which
birds-of-prey we observed.
[Illustration: GOLDEN EAGLE HUNTING]
There were small trout in the Monachil; but in Genil and Dilar (which
latter springs from the alpine Laguna de las Yeguas just under the
Picácho de la Veleta) trout ran up to a quarter-pound or thereby: the
method of capture is dynamite.
Ibex at this season (May) frequent the southern slopes of the main
chain--looking down upon the Alpuxarras--a favourite resort being the
wild rocks of Alcazába, east of Mulahacen; but in summer they are
distributed along the whole of the "high tops" and are still maintaining
their numbers as usual.
We had cherished the hope of meeting with ptarmigan and other alpine
forms in these high sierras, especially during our earlier expeditions
after ibex. We are satisfied that ptarmigan at least do not exist,
having seen no trace of them at any point; but we never saw the
snow-finch either, and it is reported to exist in numbers.
Oh! the wearying monotony of that long down-grade ride--the infinity of
vast subrounded mountains, all alike, all ugly, all sprinkled rather
than clad with low gorse and spiky broom, like millions of pincushions
with all points outwards. Then the shale--the very earth seemed
disintegrated. Red shale and blue, cinder-grey and lemon-yellow; some
schistose and sparkling, the bulk dull and dead. Here and there, amid
oceans of friable detritus, stand out great rocks of more durable
substance--solitary pinnacles, towers and turrets of fantastic form. Six
hours of this ere we reach the _Vega_ of Granada.
ORNITHOLOGY
For ornithologists the following notes on birds observed and not already
mentioned may here be inserted:--
[Illustration: ROCK-THRUSH]
_Blue_ and _Rock-thrushes_.--Neither abundant, but the former most
so in the rock-gorges of lower Monachil, nesting in "pot-holes" and
horizontal crevices of the crags. The rock-thrush is more alpine
and confined (here as elsewhere) exclusively to the higher sierra.
_Missel-thrushes_ among ilex-trees at 7000 feet, apparently
nesting: a few _woodchats_ observed at same points.
_Blackstart._--Plentiful, though less so than on San Cristobal in
Sierra de Jerez (5000 feet). A nest in the crag over-hanging our
bathing-place in the burn at San Gerónimo contained five eggs on
April 28. We found others on Monachil, and _grey wagtails_ were
also breeding at both places.
_Bonelli's Warbler._--Arrived, and preparing to nest, end of April:
a few _white-throats_ and _rufous warblers_ early in May. Robins
and wrens nesting, and _nightingales_ abundant in lower
river-valley.
_Eared_ and _Black-throated Wheatear_.--Ubiquitous but not
abundant. In both these forms (as well as in the Common Wheatear)
the males displayed a dual stage of plumage; some being completely
adult, while others retained an immature state somewhat resembling
their first dress (May).
_Stonechat._--Four eggs, April 29.
_Blackchat_ and _Crag-martin_.--Both conspicuous by their absence.
[This applies to the higher sierra--both were observed in the lower
Monachil--say 4000 feet.]
_Ortolans_ (apparently just arriving during early days of May),
with _cirl_ and _rock-buntings_, were frequent up to the limits of
scrub-growth, say 7500 feet.
_Rock-sparrow._--Breeding in crags on lower slopes.
_Woodlark._--Lower hills: young on wing, end April.
_Short-toed Lark._--Lower hills: about to nest here.
_Crested Lark._--Lower hills: common.
_Tawny Pipit._--Plentiful, scattered in pairs over the arid hills:
males singing tree-pipit fashion, soaring downwards with tail
spread overhead.
_Great_, _Blue_, and _Cole-tits_.--Common, the latter only among
the open woods of pine (_Pinus pinaster_).
_Raven_ and _Chough_.--A few.
_Hoopoe_, _Kestrel_, and _Little Owl_.--A few.
_Partridge_ (redleg).--Scarce: a pair and a single bird observed at
8000 feet among snow-patches and junipers.
_Chaffinches_ and _Serins_.--First broods on wing, end April; nests
for second broods building early in May.
_Linnets._--Common up to scrub-limit.
_Dippers._--Observed on Genil, Darro, Monachil, and all the rivers
visited.
_Pied Flycatcher._--A male observed on migration, April 30.
In the stupendous rock-gorges which enclose the lower course and
outlet of Monachil (3500-5000 feet) are situate the breeding-places
of the few griffon-vultures which inhabit this sierra. With them
nest some Neophrons, and there is a "Choughery" at 4000 feet, while
crag-martins and blackchats (not observed elsewhere), with many
blue thrushes, find a congenial home among these giant crags.
While lunching, our goat-herd guide was pointing out rock-crannies where
wolves, from lack of brushwood, used to lie up by day, and complaining
that he could not keep poultry by reason of the marten-cats. Suddenly he
broke out in shrill and altered tones: "Tell me, Caballero," he
exclaimed, "tell me _why_ you come here from lands afar to suffer
discomfort and hardship and to undergo all these labours--why do you do
this?" We endeavoured to explain. "You see, Gregorio, that God created
all manner of animals different one from another. So also He created
mankind in many different races--all brothers, yet differing as brothers
do. You Spanish belong to the Latin race. You have many fine qualities,
some of which we lack. But you rather concern yourselves with material
things and disregard platonic study. We of British race are imbued with
desire to learn all that can be traced of Nature and her ways. Some
examine the earth itself, its formations and transformations; others the
birds or the beasts. There are those who devote their lives to studying
the beetles and ants, even the mosquitoes. Now in Spain you find none
who are interested in such matters."
Gregorio sat silent and seemed impressed; but Caraballo interjected:
"Why waste time? These people are not concerned (_entrometidos_) in such
matters." True; but Gregorio had appeared interested and intelligent?
"Si! but when folk spent lonely lives among the mountains and never see
but a petty hill-village once or twice a year, then intelligence goes to
sleep (_se pone dormido_)." Certainly five minutes later they were both
hammering away again at the customary small-talk of the by-ways.
[Illustration: TYPES OF SPANISH BIRD-LIFE
SPANISH SPARROW (_Passer hispaniolensis_ [_sic_], Temm.)
A bird of the wild woods, never seen in towns; builds in foundations of
kites' and eagles' nests. Note that Temminck's Latin seems a bit
"rocky." The specific name might be _hispanicus_, or perhaps
_hispaniensis_, but _hispaniolensis_ never. That adjective must date
from a newer era and from a world then unknown.]