II. THE SIERRA BERMEJA

THE Sierra Bermeja, standing on Mediterranean shore, demands a page or two if only because it affords a home to three of Spain’s peculiar and rarer guests—the pinsÁpo, the ibex, and the lammergeyer.

Our earlier experience in Bermeja, our efforts to study its ibex—and to secure a specimen or two—are told in Wild Spain. Suffice it here to say that the characteristic of these Mediterranean mountains is that here the ibex habitually live, and even lie-up (as hares do), among the scrubby brushwood of the hills—a remarkable deviation from their observed habits elsewhere, whether in Spain, the Caucasus and Himalayas, or wherever ibex are found. But since brushwood clothes Bermeja and other Mediterranean hills to their topmost heights, the local wild-goats have literally no choice in the matter. Still, such a habitat must strike a hunter’s eye as abnormal, and is, in fact, a curious instance of “adaptation to environment.”[62]

During December 1907 we spent some days in Bermeja in an attempt to stalk the ibex—a difficult undertaking when game is always three-parts hidden by scrub. On former occasions we had secured a specimen or two by stalking (here called raspagÉo) and “driving”; but whatever chance there might have been was this time annihilated by incessant mists enshrouding the heights in opaque screen. Thus another carefully organised expedition and unstinted labour were once more thrown away!

LAMMERGEYER [Drawn from life in Sierra Bermeja, March 1891.
LAMMERGEYER
[Drawn from life in Sierra Bermeja, March 1891.]

On December 19 we drove the “Pinsapal.” This, commencing near the highest tops, 5000 feet, extends down a tremendous conch-shaped ravine, merging at the base into pine-forests—chiefly, we believe, Pinus pinaster. This “drive” lasted two hours, mist sometimes densely thick, at others clearing a little; but only allowing a view varying from twenty to eighty yards. This, coupled with constant drip from the gigantic pinsÁpos and a bitter wind blowing through clothes already soaked, was ... well, comfortless and pretty hopeless to boot. Twice the dogs gave tongue—and it could be nothing but ibex here; while D., who was posted on the left, heard the rattling of hoofs as a herd passed within, as he reckoned, 200 yards. A second lot, followed by dogs, was heard though not seen on the extreme right. The pinsÁpos at this season, and in such weather, form a favourite resort, for we saw more sign hereabouts than on the high tops. A levante wind in winter always means mist—and failure.

The ibex in winter hold the high ground unless driven down by snow. In spring and summer they come lower—even to cork-oak levels—presumably to avoid contact with tame goats, then pasturing on the tops.

The east wind and fog continuing a whole week, though we tried all we knew, every effort was frustrated by atmospheric obstruction. To drive ibex successfully, the skilled training of the dogs is essential. Formerly there were goat-herds who possessed clever dogs of great local repute. But these days of “free-shooting” have passed away, and the ibex of Bermeja with those of other Spanish sierras have recently fallen under the beneficent Ægis of “protection.”

Bird-life in winter is scarce. We noticed a few redwings feeding on berries; jays, partridges, and many wood-pigeons picking up acorns. Vultures rarely appear here, but both golden and Bonelli’s eagles were observed, and in one mountain-gorge a pair of lammergeyers have their stronghold, where in 1891 we examined both their eyries, one containing a young GypaËtus as big as a turkey. That was in March, at which season hawfinches abounded in the pines, and at dawn the melody of the blue thrush recalled Scandinavian springs and the redwing’s song. Another small bird caused recurrent annoyance while ibex-driving. With a loud “Rat, tat, tat,” resembling the patter of horny hoofs on rock, its song commences; then follows a hissing note as of a heavy body passing through brushwood—for an instant one expects the coveted game to appear. No, confound that bird! it’s only a blackstart.

We extract the following scene from Wild Spain:—

In the lower forests here are some pig and roe-deer. A far greater stronghold, however, for both these game-animals is at Almoraima, belonging to the Duke of Medinaceli, some six or eight leagues to the westward. Almoraima covers a vast extent of wild mountainous land of no great elevations generally, but all wooded and jungle-clad. On the lower levels grow immense cork-forests. Here, during a series of monterÍas in February 1910, in which the writer, to his lasting regret, was prevented from taking part, a total of 19 roe-deer and 52 boars was secured. The two best roebuck heads measured as follows:—

III. Sierra de Jerez

These mountains (being within sight of our home) formed the scene of our earliest sporting ventures in Spain. It is forty years ago now, yet do we not forget that first day and its anxieties, as we rode by crevices that serve for bridle-paths, along with a too jovial hill-farmer, BarrÉa by name, who persisted in carrying a loaded gun swinging haphazard and full-cock in the saddle-slings—that it was loaded we saw by the shiny copper cap on each nipple! Our objects that day were boar and roe-deer; but presently a partridge was descried sprinting up the rugged screes above. Out came the ready gun, and next moment all that remained of that partridge was a cloud of feathers and scattered anatomy. The ball had gone true. BarrÉa casually shouted to a lad to pick up the pieces, himself riding on as though such practice was an everyday affair. My own experience of ball-shooting being then limited, I reflected that if such were Spanish marksmanship, I might be left behind! On assembling for lunch, however, some vultures were wheeling high overhead, and it occurred to me to try my luck. By precisely a similar fluke, one huge griffon collapsed to the shot, and swirling round and round like a parachute, occupied (it seemed) five minutes in reaching the ground—1000 feet below us.

That afternoon the antics of two strange beasties attracted my attention and again my ball went straight. The victim was a mongoose, and with some pride I had the specimen carefully stowed in the mule-panniers—never to see it more! The mongoose, we now know, owing to its habit of eating snakes, has acquired a personal aroma surpassing in pungency that of any other beast of the field, and our men, so soon as my back was turned, had discreetly thrown out the malodorous trophy.

A boar-shooting trip to the Sierra de Jerez formed the first sporting venture in which the authors were jointly engaged; for which reason (though the memory dates back to March 1872) we may be forgiven for extracting a brief summary from Wild Spain:—

This last spring (1910), after thirty-eight years, we revisited the Boca de la Foz, partly to reassure ourselves that the above description was not overdrawn. No! ‘Tis a terrible wild gorge, the Foz, but the days when we can follow a wounded boar through obstacles such as those have passed away. The boars, we were told, are still there, and so are the vultures in those magnificent crags. We climbed along the ledges and there were the great stick-built nests, each in its ancestral site. In March each contains a single egg; now (April) that is replaced by a leaden-hued chick. These cliffs are also tenanted by ravens and a single pair of choughs. Neophrons occupied the same cavern whence I shot a female in 1872, and crag-martins held their old abodes, plastered on to the roofs of the caves.

As April advances a new and striking bird-form arrives to adorn the higher sierras—the least observant can scarce miss this, the rock-thrush (Monticola saxatilis), conspicuous alike in plumage and actions; with clear blue head and chestnut breast, its colour-scheme includes a broad patch of white set in the centre of a dark back. The contrast is most effective, and, so far as we know, this “fashion” of a white back is unique among birds, unless indeed it be shared by Bonelli’s eagle. The rock-thrush is also endowed with a lovely wild song, quite low and simple, but replete with a fine “high-tops” quality. By April 20 he yields to vernal impulses, and his courting is pretty to see; wheeling around on transparent pinions, he soars and sings the livelong day; at intervals, with collapsed wing, he drops like a stone to join his sober-hued mate among the rocks; a few picturesque poses, displaying all those flashing tints of orange and opal, and off he goes again to soar and sing once more. His cousin, the blue-thrush, has also a sweet song and a similar hovering flight, ending in a “drop act”; but the ascent is more vertical, while frequently he varies the descent and comes fluttering down in tree-pipit or butterfly-like style. Even the sober little blackchat now “shows off,” perched on some boulder with quivering wings and tail spread fan-like over his back. Both these two last, being resident, nest much earlier than the migratory rock-thrush: the latter was building (in crevices of the rocks) by mid-April, but hardly lays before May.

These sierras being only 3000 to 4000 feet, one misses here some of the alpine forms observed at higher altitudes. The tawny pipit, for example, a sandy-hued bird with dark eye-stripe and active wagtail-like gait, which was common on San Cristobal at 4500 feet in April, never showed up here at all; nor did any of the following species, all so characteristic of the higher ground: Blackstarts, woodlarks, rock-buntings, cole-and longtail-tits, and tree-creepers. The choughs, spotted woodpeckers, rock-thrushes, crag-martins, and wood-pigeons, though observed, were here very much scarcer. The lammergeyer, too, rarely descends here, and then only while in his smoke-black uniform of immaturity.

The Puerta de Palomas

In May 1883, while returning from Ubrique, our horses fell lame owing to loss of shoes, and for four days and nights we were encamped in the pass known as the Puerta de Palomas. There is a tiny ventorillo, or wayside wine-shop, at the foot of the pass; but nights are warm in May, and we preferred the freedom of the open hill, where the strange growls made by the griffons at dawn, together with the awakening carol of the rock-thrush, formed our reveille each morning in that roofless bedroom amidst the boulders.

The opposite side of the pass is dominated by the picturesque pile called the Picacho del Aljibe, a conical peak that towers in tiers of crags above the adjoining sierras not unlike a gigantic Arthur’s Seat over the Salisbury Crags. Our own side was rather a chaotic jumble of detached monoliths than cliffs proper, and by clambering over these we reached in one morning sixteen vultures’ nests, the easiest of access we ever struck. They were mostly very slight affairs, bare rock often protruding through the scanty structure; though, where necessary, a broad platform of sticks was provided—as sketched. The poults (only one in each nest) were now as big as guinea-fowls, with brown feathers sprouting through the white down. These eyries, albeit slightly malodorous, are always strictly clean, since vultures feed their young by disgorging half-digested food from their own crops, and we watched this not-pleasing operation being performed within some eighty yards’ distance; hence there is no carrion or putrefying matter lying about, as is the case with the neophron and lammergeyer.

These eyries were situate on three great outstanding stacks of rock, and during the scramble we came face to face with a pair of eagle-owls solemnly dreaming away the hours in the recesses of a cavern, though no sign of a nest was discovered. The caves were shared by crag-martins, whose swallow-like nests were fixed under the roof, usually just beyond reach. Their eggs are white, flecked with grey. On May 18 we obtained here a nest of the rock-thrush with five beautiful greenish-blue eggs. It was built in a cranny of the crags.

This year (1910) found us once more in the Puerta de Palomas, the date April 8. On rounding the Sierra de las Cabras, as L. was already far up the hillside, I rode forward intending to ascend at the north end and work back, thus meeting in centre. A succession of mischances, however, upset that plan. A small clump of ilex clung to the steep above the point whereat I had left the horses, and in traversing this, I walked right into a calf concealed beneath a lentiscus. Knowing that this might involve trouble should its half-wild mother be within hearing, I gently retreated, but, hard by, stumbled on a second calf, even smaller, in another bush. No. 1 meanwhile had gained its legs and bleated softly. There followed a crash among the bush above, and as fierce-looking a wild beast as ever I saw (and I have seen some) came hurtling down those rugged rocks at amazing speed. On seeing me (luckily some little distance from her own offspring) the infuriated mother pulled up, full-face—a pretty picture, but rather menacing, especially as she kept up a muttered bellowing, horribly eloquent. I had sidled alongside a tree; but Paco, who carried my gun, with the reckless spirit begotten of the bull-fight, boldly addressed the enemy in opprobrious terms. The only result was that she came still nearer, and I swung to a lower branch. Paco, nothing daunted, now tried stones (in addition to expletives), and it was, to me at least, a relief when that cow at length retired. The half-wild savage may easily be more dangerous than the truly wild. The former have lost some of their pristine respect for man, and of course one has less means of defence.

This incident over, we commenced the climb. The rock-stack rose vertically above us, but we diverged to the right as affording an easier route. On reaching the desired level, however, I found it impossible to make good that interval on our left—a smooth rock-face devoid of handhold, and too upright to traverse, forbade all lateral movement. Up we went another twenty yards, then another; but always to find that slithery rock-face mocking our efforts to outflank it. We were now well above the rock-stack overlooking the eyries, and I could see two griffons brooding, another feeding a poult close by. But between us was a great gulf fixed, and that gulf stopped us. The obvious alternative was to descend and try again from a fresh point. But here a new difficulty faced us: we could not descend. We had come up by following a series of vertical fissures, or “chimnies,” none too easy, since every crevice sheltered some vicious vegetation, each more spikey and thorny than the last. Still from below one can always select a handhold somewhere, and then defy the thorn; whereas on looking backwards, nothing is visible but a vanishing outline of rock and gorse, porcupine broom, or palmetto—beyond is vacant space, and a sheer drop at that. In a word, we could neither descend nor move laterally. It was humiliating—even more so than the antecedent incident with a COW!

One resource remained—to climb on to the top; and even in that direction a single bad rock might cut off escape. No such crowning catastrophe befell, but it was tooth-and-claw work, every yard of it, and the vertical height could not have been less than 1000 feet.

While thus “clawing up” I recollect passing a perfect glory in orchids—great twin purple blooms, golden-tipped and quite amorphous in outline. They grew just beyond my reach. Curious recumbent ferns clung to the rocks; anemones and violet-like bouquets peered from each cranny.

Meanwhile L., approaching from the other side, had examined the rock-stacks and succeeded in attaining one main objective—the nest of the eagle-owl. This was in a rock-cavern, close by that of ’83, easy of access—indeed the great owl flew out in his face as he passed below. The cave (four feet high by two wide) was at the foot of a vertical limestone cliff, its floor level with a goat-track that skirted the crag, and fully exposed to view; there was no nest nor any debris. Two young owls in white down, with one egg actually “chipping,” lay on the bare earth.

One of the griffon’s nests still contained (on April 8) a fresh egg, which is now in the writer’s collection as a memorial of that day. We had secured all we had expected in the Puerta de Palomas—and something more besides.