IN the Spanish ibex Spain possesses not only a species peculiar to the Peninsula, but a game-animal of the first rank.

Fortunate it is that this sentence can be written in the present tense instead of (as but a few years ago appeared probable) in the past.

Since we first wrote on this subject in 1893 the Spanish ibex has passed through a crisis that came perilously near extirpation. Up to the date named, and for several years later, none of the great landowners of Spain, within whose titles were included the vast sierras and mountain-ranges that form its home, had cherished either pride or interest in the Spanish wild-goat. Some were dimly conscious of its existence on their distant domains: but that was all. Not a scintilla of reproach is here inferred. For these mountain-ranges are so remote and so elevated as often to be almost inaccessible—or accessible only by organised expedition independent of local aid. Their sole human inhabitants are a segregated race of goat-herds, every man of them a born hunter, accustomed from time immemorial to kill whenever opportunity offered—and that regardless of size, sex, or season. That the ibex should have survived such persecution by hardy mountaineers bespeaks their natural cunning. Their survival was due to two causes—first, the antiquated weapons employed, but, more important, the astuteness of the game and the “defence” it enjoyed in the stupendous precipices and snow-fields of those sierras, great areas of which remain inaccessible even to specialised goat-herds, save only for a limited period in summer.

But no wild animal, however astute or whatever its “defence,” can withstand for ever perpetual, skilled human persecution. During the early years of the present century the Spanish ibex appeared doomed beyond hope. Private efforts over such vast areas were obviously difficult, if not impossible.

We rejoice to add that at this eleventh hour a new era of existence has been secured to Capra hispÁnica at that precise psychological moment when its scant survivors were struggling in their last throes. The change is due to graceful action by the landowners in certain great mountain-ranges; and if our own explorations and our writings on the subject have also tended to assist, none surely will grudge the authors this expression of pride in having helped, however humbly, to preserve not only to Spain, but to the animal-world, one of its handsomest species.

This new era took different forms in different places. In certain sierras—those of less boundless area—the owners have undertaken the preservation of the ibex partly from their realising the tangible asset this game-beast adds to the value of barren mountain-land, and partly in view of the legitimate sport that an increase in stock may hereafter afford.

But the main factor which has assured success (and which in itself led up to the private efforts just named) took origin in the great Sierra de GrÉdos. This elevated region is the apex of the long cordillera of central Spain, the Carpeto-Vetonico range, which extends from Moncayo, east of Madrid, for some 300 miles through the Castiles and Estremadura, forming the watershed of Tagus and Douro. It separates the two Castiles, and passing the frontier of Portugal is there known as the Serra da Estrella, which, with the Cintra hills, extends to the Atlantic sea-board. Along all this extensive cordillera there is no more favoured resort of ibex than its highest peak, the Plaza de AlmanzÓr, of 2661 metres altitude (= 8700 feet) above sea-level.

In 1905, when the ibex were about at their last gasp, the proprietors of the NuclÉo central, which we may translate as the Heart of GrÉdos, of their own initiative, ceded to King Alfonso XIII. the sole rights-of-chase therein, and His Majesty commissioned the Marquis of Villaviciosa de Asturias to appoint an adequate force of guards.

Six guards were selected from the self-same goat-herds who, up to that date, had themselves been engaged in hunting to extermination the last surviving ibex of the sierra, and whom we had ourselves employed during various expeditions therein.

ON THE RISCO DEL FRAILE. Spanish Ibex in Sierra de GrÉdos..
ON THE RISCO DEL FRAILE.
Spanish Ibex in Sierra de GrÉdos..

The ceded area comprised all the best game-country, defined as the “Circo de GrÉdos”—including the gorge of the Laguna Grande, the Risco del Fraile, Risco del FrancÉs, and that of AmeÁl de Pablo, together with the wild valley of Las Cinco Lagunas—as shown on rough sketch-plan annexed.

SKETCH-MAP OF THE NUCLÉO CENTRAL OF GRÉDOS (A. Alto del CasquerÁzo. B. Riscos del Fraile, with the Hermanitos in front.)
SKETCH-MAP OF THE NUCLÉO CENTRAL OF GRÉDOS
(A. Alto del CasquerÁzo. B. Riscos del Fraile, with the Hermanitos in front.)

In 1896 we estimated the stock of ibex at fifty head, and during the following years it fell far below that—by 1905 almost to zero. In 1907, after only two years of “sanctuary,” it was computed by the guards that the total exceeded 300 head.

In July 1910 we inquired if it were possible to estimate the present stock. In a letter (the composition of which would cost some anxiety) the Guarda of the Madrigal de la Vera—one portion only of the “sanctuary”—reports: “It is difficult to count the ibex. Sometimes we see more, sometimes less. Yesterday on the Cabeza NevÁda we counted 39 rams and 22 females together. On the other side we counted 29 in one troop, 19 in another, 12 in another, besides smaller lots. We probably saw 160 or 170, and we could not see all. Some of the old rams are very big, and it would be advisable that some be shot.” Another report (at same date) from the “Hoyos del Espino,” estimates the ibex there to exceed 200 head. The two reports go to show that the continuity of the race is fairly secured.

[A similar cession of sole hunting-rights to the King was simultaneously made by the owners of the “Central Group” of the Picos de Europa in Asturias. There are no ibex in that Cantabrian range; the graceful act was there inspired by a desire to preserve the chamois, animals with which we deal in another chapter.]

The Spanish ibex is found at six separate points in the Peninsula, each colony divided from its fellows as effectually as though broad oceans rolled between. The six localities are:—

(1) The Pyrenees—which we have not visited.

(2) Sierra de GrÉdos, as above defined, and as described in greater detail hereafter.

(3) Sierra MorÉna, a single isolated colony near Fuen-Caliente, now preserved (see next chapter).

(4) Sierra NevÁda and the Alpuxarras (cf. infra).

(5) The mountains along the Mediterranean, which are properly western outliers of NevÁda, but which are usually grouped as the “Serrania de Ronda,” some lying within sight of Gibraltar. Several of the most important ranges are now preserved by their owners (cf. infra).

(6) Valencia, Sierra MartÉs. This forms a new habitat hitherto unrecorded, and of which we only became aware through the kindness of Mr. P. Burgoyne of Valencia, who has favoured us with the annexed photo of an ibex head killed (along with a smaller example) at Cuevas Altas in the mountain-region known as PeÑas Pardas in that province, February 22, 1909. The dimensions read as follows:—

Our informant has reason to believe that ibex also exist (or existed within recent years) in the rugged mountains of Tortosa, farther east in Catalonia.

In the form of its horns the Spanish ibex differs essentially from the typical ibex of the Alps—now, alas, exterminated save only in the King of Italy’s preserved ranges around the Val d’Aosta. In the true ibex the horns bend regularly backwards and downwards in a uniform, scimitar-like curve. In the Spanish species, after first diverging laterally, the horns are recurved both inward and finally upward. That is, in the first case they follow a simple semicircular bend, while in the Spanish goats they form almost a spiral.

A minor point of difference lies in the annular rings or notches which in the true ibex are rectangular, encircling the horn in front like steps in a ladder, while in Capra hispÁnica they rather run obliquely in semi-spiral ascent. These annulations indicate the age of the animal—one notch to each year—but the count must stop where the spiral ends. Beyond that is the lightly grooved tip, which does not alter.

The horns of old rams (which are often broken or worn down at the tips) average 26 to 28 inches, specially fine examples reaching 29 inches or more. The females likewise carry horns, but short and slender, only measuring 6 or 7 inches.

The six isolated colonies of ibex, separated from each other during ages, live under totally different natural conditions. For while some, as stated, exist at 8000, 10,000, or 12,000 feet altitude, others occupy hills of much more moderate elevations—say 4000 to 6000 feet, some of which are bush-clad to their summits. Under such circumstances there have naturally developed divergencies not only in habits, but in form and size. Particularly does this apply to the horns, and for that reason we give a series of photos of typical examples from various points.

The ibex of the Pyrenees is certainly the largest race, and has been entitled by scientists Capra pyrenaica; those of the centre and south of Spain being differentiated as C. hispÁnica. We attach less importance to specific distinctions, but leave the illustrations of specimens to speak for themselves. It may, however, be remarked that examples from the two outside extremes (Pyrenees and NevÁda) most closely assimilate in their flattened and compressed form of horn.

Neither in GrÉdos nor NevÁda are the rock-formations so precipitous as in the Picos de Europa in Asturias—described later in this book. They present, nevertheless, difficulties possibly insuperable to mere hunters unskilled in the technique of climbing. Rock-climbing forms a recognised branch of “mountaineering,” but of that science the authors (with sorrow be it confessed) have never been enamoured. To us, mountains, merely as such, have not appealed. But they form the home of alpine creatures, the study and acquisition of which were objects that no terrestrial obstacle could entirely forbid, and we enjoy retrospective pride in having so far surmounted those antecedent terrors as to have secured a few specimens of this, the most “impossible” of European trophies—the Spanish ibex.

An awkward situation is a subrounded wall of rough granulated granite blocking our course and traversed obliquely by an up-trending fissure barely the breadth of hempen soles, its inclination outward, and the “tread” carpeted with slippery wet moss still half frozen. It is seldom what one can see that gives pause, but the fear of the unseen. Here we hesitate by reason of the uncertainty of what may confront beyond that grim curve. The fissure might cease; to turn back would clearly be impossible. Impatient of delay our crag-born guide—a homo rupestris, prehensile of foot—seized the gun, and with a muttered ejaculation that might have included scorn, in three strides had skipt around the dreaded corner—of course we followed.

Snow-slopes tipped at steep angles never inspire confidence in the unaxed climber, especially when the surface is half melted, revealing green ice beneath, and when the disappearing curve conceals from view what dangers may lurk below. Again a suddenly interrupted ledge—say where some great block has become disintegrated from the hanging face—necessitates a sort of nervy jump quite calculated to shorten one’s days, even if it does not precipitately terminate them.

The ibex is always nocturnal. On the great cordilleras it spends its day asleep on some rock-ledge isolated amidst snow-fields, its security doubly assured by sentinels, whenever such are deemed necessary: or, lower down, in the caves of a sheer precipice. Only after sun-down do the ibex descend, and never, even then, so far as timber-line. On these loftier sierras their home by day is confined to rock and snow; by night to that zone of moss, heath, and alpine vegetation that intervenes between the snow-line and topmost levels of scrub and conifer.

Such are the ibex of the loftier ranges—GrÉdos and NevÁda. But in the south, wild-goats are found on mountains of inferior elevation, 4000 to 6000 feet, many of which are jungled—some even forested—to their summits, and there they cannot disdain the shelter of the scrub. We have hunted them (within sight of the Mediterranean) in ground that appeared more suitable to roe-deer, and have seen the “rootings” of wild-pig within the ibex-holding area.

In such situations the wild-goats take quite kindly to the scrub, forming regular “lairs” wherein they lie-up as close as hares or roe. Amidst the brushwood that clothes the highland—heaths and broom, genista, rhododendron, lentiscus, and a hundred other shrubs—they rest by day and browse by night without having to descend or shift their quarters at all. On these lower hills the ibex owe their safety, and survival, to the vast area of covert, and, in less degree, to their comparatively small numbers. So few are they and so big their home, they are considered “not worth hunting.”

During summer the ibex feed on the mountain-grasses, rush, and flowering shrubs which at that season adorn the alpine solitudes; later, on the berries and wild-fruits of the hill. By autumn they attain their highest condition—the beards of the rams fully developed and their brown pelts glossy and almost uniform in colour. At this period (September to October) the rutting season occurs and fighting takes place—the champions rearing on hind-legs for a charge, and the crash of opposing horns resounds across the corries of the sierra. Even in spring memories of the combative instinct survive, for we have watched, in April, a pair of veterans sparring at each other for half an hour.

The young are born in April and soon follow their dams—graceful creatures with unduly large hind-legs, like brown lambs. One is the usual number, though two are not infrequent. The kid remains with its dam upwards of a year—that is, till after a second family has been born.

At that season (April to May) the ibex are changing their coats. The males lose the flowing beard and assume a hoary piebald colour, contrasting with the dark of legs and quarters. The muzzle is warm cream colour and the lower leg (below knee) prettily marked with black and white. On the knee is a callosity, or round patch of bare hardened skin. The horns of yearling males are thicker and heavier than those of adult females.

Though the hill-shepherds in summer drive out their herds of goats to pasture on the higher sierra, where they may come in contact with their wild congeners, yet no interbreeding has ever been known; nor can the wild ibex be domesticated. Wild kids that are captured invariably die before attaining maturity. The horns of the herdsmen’s goats differ in type from those of the ibex, which can never have been the progenitor of the race of goats now domesticated in Spain.

Though the personal aroma of an ibex-ram is strong—rather more offensive than that of a vulture—yet no trace of this remains after cooking. The flesh is brown and tough, but devoid of any special flavour or individuality—that is, when subjected to the rude cookery of the camp.