A WINTER RIDE IN THE SIERRAS.

To the Lammergeyer tradition has assigned some romantic attributes, and a character of wondrous dash and daring. This is the bird that is credited with feats of hurling hunters from perilous positions down crag or crevass, carrying off children to its eyrie, and kidnapping unguarded babes. Even Dr. Bree, in his "Birds of Europe," while doubting that it habitually assails grown-up people, gravely asserts that a pair of these birds will not hesitate to attack a man whom they have caught at a disadvantage; while one will venture, single-handed, an onslaught on two hunters who are asleep. Some naturalists now seem inclined to go to the other extreme, and to regard the Lammergeyer as merely a huge Neophron.

No doubt the great size and weird, dragon-like appearance of the GypaËtus have tended to promote exaggeration, while its rarity and remote haunts have made it no easy subject to study, and few have formed its acquaintance in its own almost inaccessible domains. Our small experiences, narrated in the two following chapters, seem to show that the truth lies between the two extremes.

Towards the end of January we set out for a fortnight's exploration of the mountains beyond Tempul and Algar, a forty-mile ride to the eastward of Jerez. Bitter was the cold as we rode off in the darkness at 5 A.M., only two stars shining in the eastern firmament; truly the word recrÉo, as Blas explained to the sentry on duty at the old Moorish gateway, that we were only bound on pleasure, sounded almost satirical—as some one has said, life would be endurable but for its pleasures. By dawn we were crossing the hungry gravel-ridges beyond Cuartillos, and watched the sun rise from behind the stony pile of San Christobal, bathing the distant mountains, whither we were bound, in glorious golden glow.

Crossing the Guadalete by the ford of Barca Florida, our route led through leagues of lovely park-like land—here straggling natural woods or ferny glades, anon opening out upon stretches of heath and palmetto. The track, where one existed, a typical Spanish by-way, shut in between vertical banks of slippery white marl, that barely left room for the laden mule; its narrow bed was a turgid mud-hole, honeycombed with the footprints of beasts that had gone before. Where the heath was more open we could take an independent course; but the scrub, as a rule, was impenetrable, and left no alternative but to go on plunging through the clinging mud. At noon we outspanned for almuerzo beneath a cork-oak, the weather and the scene alike lovely beyond words. The evergreen woods swarmed with life; over the green expanse of palmetto hovered hen-harriers: a pair of kites swept over the wooded slopes of Berlanger, grey shrikes sat perched on dead boughs; chats, larks, buntings, and goldfinches swarmed, and all the usual Spanish birds, to wit, bustards great and small, cranes, storks, peewits, red-legs, kestrels, &c., were observed during the day's ride.

Later in the afternoon we were fairly among the outspurs of the sierra, and overhead, on heavy wing, soared the vultures. What a curious commentary on the state of a country are such hordes of huge carrion-feeders, and how eloquently does their presence attest a backward and listless condition in the lands they inhabit! In Spain, it is true, vultures serve a useful office as scavengers; yet in modern Europe they surely seem an anachronism. No doubt it is due as much to the physical conditions, to the desert character and semi-tropical climate of this wild land, as to the apathy of the Spanish people, that they exist in such numbers. Among nations more keenly imbued with commercial instincts, the flock-master takes care that his stock shall support themselves in order to support him. The daily, hourly losses which are implied in the supplementary support of hordes of huge flesh-eating birds, each as heavy as a Spanish sheep and voracious as a hyena, would simply put him out of the market, and eventually land him in bankruptcy. But Spain cares nothing for modern ideas, and disdains to put herself about in the universal race for wealth. There is dignity in her attitude, but there is at least a suspicion of lassitude. Where Nature is prodigal, man becomes proportionately apathetic. Here her gifts more than suffice for simple tastes and day-to-day requirements, and the rural Andaluz seeks no more.

LAMMERGEYER—A FIRST IMPRESSION.
LAMMERGEYER—A FIRST IMPRESSION.

In agriculture, stock-raising, and other pastoral pursuits, the rudiments of modern system—drainage, irrigation, and the like—are ignored. In the burning heats of summer, when every green thing is scorched to death, the cattle die by hundreds from thirst and want of pasturage; in winter, when plains are flooded, and valleys water-logged, the death-rate from cold, want, and disease is hardly less heavy than that of summer. Small wonder the great bare-necked scavengers of Nature increase and flourish.

Passing beneath the twin crags of Las Dos Hermanas, we struck the course of the Majaceite, whose rushing stream, embowered amidst magnificent oleanders, looked more like trout than anything we had then seen in these sierras. Among the mountain streams above AlcalÁ de los Gazules and in the Sierra de la Jarda we have observed its darting form, and further south some large trout have more recently been captured.

It was necessary to ford the Majaceite, which, in its swollen state and opaque current, was one of those things that bring one's heart into one's mouth; the bottom, however, proved sound: we plunged through all right, and after some stiffish mountain-riding reached the pueblocito of Algar just as the setting sun was bathing the wild serrania in softest purples and gold.

The posada was a typical Spanish village inn. Our horses we had ourselves to see quartered in the stable, which occupied one side of the courtyard, while our dinner was being made ready in a small whitewashed room adjoining. The sleeping-quarters above consisted of a single small attic, absolutely devoid of furniture or of contents beyond a pile of sacks containing corn, or "paja" (chaff), in one corner, and our own belongings, including saddles, mule-pack, &c., &c., which lay littered all over the floor. Three trestle-beds ("catres") were produced, and in deference to the idiosyncrasies of the extranjero, a tiny wash-basin was placed on the window-sill—not that there was any window, beyond a folding wooden shutter. Dinner consisted of an olla, in which small morsels of pork could be hunted up amidst the recesses of a steaming mass of garbanzos (chick-pea), by no means bad, though we were too hungry to be fastidious.

DANCE AND GUITAR.
DANCE AND GUITAR.

A small crowd of idlers, as usual, hung about the open courtyard of the posada, watching for "any new thing," and speculating on our objects in coming. I overheard the word minerÁl, and remembering that I had been amusing myself in sifting some of the sands of the Majaceite, thought it best to dispel any false impressions by inviting the bystanders to share a boracha of the rough wine of local growth, and the usual cigarette. It is always best to have some definite object, so I told my guests that I had come to the sierra to shoot the quebranta-huesos, literally, "bone-smasher." They stared and mumbled over the name; had never heard of such a thing; the first man one meets probably never has; but there was in the village a goatherd, muy inteligente en pajaros, "who knew all about birds." I sent for this worthy, Francisco Garcia de Conde by name, a light-built, wiry mountaineer. Francisco's ornithological repute was easily acquired, for among the blind a one-eyed man is king; but he certainly did know the Lammergeyer, and his description of its habits and appearance passed the evening away pleasantly enough. The quebranta-huesos he described as a fierce and solitary bird—never seen more than two together, and discriminated it from the vultures as being muy daÑino—very destructive to goats, kids, and other hill-stock, which it seizes and kills on the spot, or hurls over the ledge of some precipice. He well described their habit of engaging in aËrial combat—"siempre se ponen peleando en el ayre"—and their loud wild "pwing! pwing!" resounding through the mountain solitudes. Of their actual nesting-places, however (which I was most anxious to discover), he knew nothing, beyond positively stating (and in this he was corroborated by other hill-men) that they bred exclusively in the loftier sierras beyond Ronda. We had ourselves spent some time traversing those very sierras without seeing anything of this bird; but should add, were not at that time specially in search of it. Their eyries, Francisco asserted, were only to be found in the region of "living rocks" (piedras vivas), which form the loftiest peaks. In this, however, as will appear in the next chapter, our friend Francisco was mistaken.

Our conversation was listened to—I don't imagine enjoyed—by a pair of lovers, who, with a rather pretty girl, the daughter of the house, presumably in the capacity of duena, occupied the other side of the table. The enamorados scarcely ever spoke; he sat looking mutely into her face, only muttering a whisper at long intervals. She was absolutely silent, and looked stolid and stupid too.

Leaving Algar, we crossed the bleak plateaux to the eastward, brown, stony, and sterile; thence descending to a forest region, where the track followed the course of a clear mountain stream, embedded among oleander, laurestinus, and myrtle, their foliage forming an evergreen tunnel, along which we rode in grateful shade. For some distance our route and the burn ran parallel, their courses sometimes coincident; then we diverged to the left, ascending the slope of a garganta, amidst noble oaks, chestnuts, and ilex, all, save the oaks, in full leaf, and from the gnarled trunks hung hare's-foot ferns and masses of ivy and parasitic plants in green festoons. Of bird-life, but little beyond a few common small birds was observable, and on a sunny slope we came suddenly on a big grey mongoose, which, however, got to ground before the gun could be unslung.

The first range explored was the series of crags terminating the Sierra de las Cabras; but it proved blank as regarded our chief object. The summit is a long, narrow, knife-edged ridge, along which vertical strata of limestone, bleached white as marble, protrude abruptly as the walls of a ruined city. Amidst these ruinous streets were a few Black Chats, and on a shoulder of the hill a solitary Blue Rock-Thrush; a small eagle was sweeping over the slopes, but not a sign of the Lammergeyer could we see. The day was bright and clear, and the view extensive and wild. On the north the granite mass of San Christobal, now lightly flecked with snow, limited our horizon; but in other directions rose an infinity of grey, stony sierras, range beyond range, some sharp, jagged, and cruelly bare of vegetation. To the south we could discern the silvery sheen of the Lagunas de Janda, with glimpses of the Straits of Gibraltar, and the misty outline of African highlands beyond.

We had a long, hard day ere we reached the cortijo of a hospitable hill-farmer among the cork-woods of the valley beyond. Here we sought a night's lodging, and the kindly mountaineer, "Francisco de Naranjo, su servidor de usted," as with a low bow and typical Andalucian courtesy he introduced himself, at once made us feel that the Spanish welcome—"aqui tiene usted su casa"—was, in his case, no empty form of words. We dined together, Francisco and I, on garbanzos, thrushes, a chicken, and black puddings! These last, and the consciousness that a newly-killed pig, whose life-blood no doubt had furnished the delicacy, hung from the rafters immediately behind my head, amidst store of algarrobas, capsicums, and heads of golden maize, were the only drawbacks to my comfort. We discussed agricultural and political subjects, and agreed in sharing conservative views, though, in Spain, I fancy I might turn rather more of a reformer; but this I did not hint at. Francisco observed that should Lord Salisbury's then existing Government in England fall, it would be a mal rato (a bad time) for property-owners everywhere! My host told me that he set his watch by the sun, and in answer to a question when the sun would rise to-morrow, promptly replied, "At 7.19."[58]

After dinner we adjourned to the large outer room, where among the miscellaneous crew gathered round the blazing logs were a wild-honey hunter, and a birdcatcher who was plying his vocation in the adjacent woods. I was surprised to find among his captures a number of redwings; of a couple of dozen thrushes which I bought for my own and men's eating, no less than eight were redwings, and on subsequent days he caught many more. This man, though he knew that the song-thrushes were migratory in Spain, saying they were pajaros de entrada, which left when the swallows appeared, did not see any difference between them and the redwings. He had also caught a Great Spotted Woodpecker, and while I was examining it, one of the half-wild cats of the farm, cautiously stalking beneath my chair, seized the prey and made off into outer darkness.

It was a typical Andalucian scene around the hearth, the group of bronzed leather-clad mountaineers, some already "gone to roost" (audibly) on the low mud settee round the outer wall, while others rolled the everlasting "papelito," and one, as usual, "touched" the guitar. My host had a narrow "catre" set up for me in his own room, and next morning, after an early cup of the delicious thick Spanish chocolate and the sweet biscuits for which the neighbouring village of AlcalÁ bears a local repute, we started on foot to ascend the range behind the house while yet the hills were wrapped in mist-wreaths.

The ascent at first lay through hanging forests, broken here and there by grey crags, the home of the chough and the eagle-owl. Here a cushat occasionally dashed away, or a jay awoke the echoes at safe distance. Above the trees the climb became harder and the ground of the roughest, stony acclivities choked with brushwood. Beyond these came the region of rock, vast monoliths and rock walls beside which a man felt a very mite in the scale of creation.

On the conical rock-pile, the Picacho del Aljibe, which towers over the surrounding sierras not unlike a gigantic Arthur's Seat over the Salisbury Crags, we had enjoyed in a former year a sight of the GypaËtus; but now it proved blank, nor could our guides, nor a goatherd we met on the mountain, give us any information beyond the customary "hay muchos en Estremadura." Whatever one may seek, it would appear, abounds in Estremadura! The Spanish peasant, whether from an over-anxious desire to assist, or from a fear of appearing ignorant, is apt to err on the side of imagination or exaggeration. Information received from them needs careful sifting, or disappointment may ensue. Thus, while on a fishing expedition in the north of Spain, I was sounding my companion, a Gallegan peasant, as to the bears, deer, and other game of the surrounding sierras. At first his answers seemed straight and fair, but a bear story or two took me aback, and presently he insisted that the red deer in those hills never cast their horns, which grew to a fabulous size. Before abandoning the discussion I said casually—with a view to "fix" him—"Y leones?" "Lions! No, seÑor, here there are none; but further over yonder (this with a wave of his hand to the westward) there are many." The expression, mas allÁ hay muchos, and the gesture that accompanied it, conveyed the impression that only a few leagues across the mountains, there were swarms of lions: but on being questioned more precisely as to the locality, he replied—"In the United States!" Possibly in that lad's mind, the Estados Unidos commenced somewhere just beyond the limit of his view—at any rate, further zoological discussion was suspended.

Many of the crags were tenanted by vultures, but these we expressly avoided, and directed the search to spots where these birds were not. For some days we sought in vain: at last we espied an eyrie which appeared to give promise of success. This was a wide crevice in the face of a precipice, which from the copious whitewash below, was evidently occupied. Some broken crags on the left seemed to afford a chance of climbing within shot of the eyrie; and having reached the spot, Blas fired a shot below, when there followed a scrambling noise within the cave, and out swept—not the coveted GypaËtus, but a huge bare-necked griffon. I appeased my disappointment with both barrels, and the B.B. taking effect on the head, the vulture collapsed and fell down—down—with a mighty thud to the slopes below.

We could find nothing but vultures here: every crag was possessed by them, and we examined several of their abodes. They were already beginning to build: the remnants of last year's structures being now (January 22nd) supplemented by fresh live branches of oak and olive, and big claws-full of grass torn up by the roots.

'Twere a long tale to tell of fruitless efforts: we never so much as saw our coveted prize hereabouts, and at length we left the kindly farmer's house. The pretty Anita who had waited on us, and who, though she never sat down in her master's presence, joined freely in the conversation, had, we observed, donned quite an extra stratum of poudre d'amour, or some such compound, upon her fair brown cheeks to bid adios to the mad InglÉs; but neither she nor hearty Francisco would hear of accepting any return for all the trouble of our visit. We had an idea, in the former case, that coquetry might have had something to do with Anita's refusal, but time forbade the solution of the question.

GRIFFON VULTURE. (A sketch in the Sierra.)
GRIFFON VULTURE. (A sketch in the Sierra.)

Further explorations had no better result: in the forests of the Sierra de la Jarda were a good many roe and some pig, but we did not care to risk the uncertainty of a batida all alone. Partridge are very scarce on all these hills, and no wonder, since every farmer keeps his pair of call-birds (reclamos). We had gently hinted to Francisco the unwisdom of shooting partridges to decoys in spring; but he insisted it did no harm, since he only shot the cocks! A pair or two of partridges at long intervals were all we saw (two or three brace a day was the utmost we could bag as a rule), and these, with a few hares and a chance rabbit, are all the small game of the sierra. In the marshy valleys were flights of peewits (January), and the woods swarmed with thrushes, blackbirds, chaffinches, green and brown linnets, robins, a few redwings, and other common species. A striking bird among the dense scrub on the hillsides was the little Dartford warbler, a creature of such intensely tame and skulking habits, that it was impossible to get a shot beyond a few yards—which involved annihilation of so tiny an atom.

After another week's exploration, sleeping at the chozas of goatherds, or in bat-haunted caves, and enduring much discomfort, we decided to give it up.[59] On the homeward journey we gave a day to the exploration of the Boca de la Foz, where on a former occasion we had had a shot at a Lammergeyer—a grey-brown immature bird; but here again we met with nothing but the ubiquitous vultures, and in the afternoon we had paid off our guides and were starting on the homeward ride, when Benitez pointed out a pajaraco in the distance. At first the bird appeared an ordinary griffon, some of which were close by; but as it came overhead, there was no mistaking the outlines of the Lammergeyer. Slowly the magnificent bird wheeled and sailed overhead, and our eyes feasted on the object we would have given two little fingers to possess. For some minutes he treated us to a fine view at moderately short distance. The general contour and flight was far more vulturine and less falcon-like than we had expected. The wings seemed fully as heavy, broad, and square at the points as those of a griffon, but there was rather more curve at the elbow. A lightish spot near the tips of the quills, the rich tawny breast and white head, keenly turning from side to side, were very conspicuous from below; but the distinguishing characteristic of the bird is its tail. This is very long, and continues broadening out for half its length, thence narrowing down acutely to the sharp wedge-shaped tip.

Presently the bird appeared to enter some great crags—already hidden from view by an intervening bluff—and the hopes of a shot revived. Benitez was protesting against the idea of spending another night here, with no food for man or beast, when the Lammergeyer solved the question by re-appearing, and after a few fine aËrial evolutions, winged his way direct towards the distant sierras beyond Grazalema.

That night we reached the little venta of the Parada del Valle: the landlord could hardly get over the curiosity of our wishing to wash before dinner, and for some minutes revolved like a swivel-mitrailleuse, expectorating all over the floor while pondering this thing in his mind. "Ahora?" at last he inquired. "Si! ahora mismo!" we replied, when he went and brought a thing that looked like a tin plate, containing about a breakfast-cupful of water.

El Valle is a straggling little village situate in the mouth of one of the defiles leading into the mountains, and consists of a few low cottages and a single country-house—a rare thing in Spain—embowered amidst orange and olive-groves. The orange harvest was in full swing, and the villagers one and all busy gathering the golden fruit into heaps, and packing it upon mules for market; some also in the long wooden cases one sees about Covent Garden. The only sign-board in the little one-sided street displayed the words "Dentista y Sangrador"—the Spaniards, by the way, are strong believers in bleeding: it seems the one known remedy, efficacious for all the ills of the flesh, as the writer once learned by experience, when having had a slight sunstroke, he awoke to find a rural medico in the act of applying the lancet to his arm.

Before dawn we started for Jerez, and in a detached crag of the sierra we obtained a fine adult male golden eagle which had breakfasted early on a rabbit. Like most Spanish examples, this eagle was much splashed with white below, especially on the thighs. Shortly after, on a bare stretch of maize stubble, we rode fairly into a pack of little bustard, and though the gun was in the slings a quick shot secured three—one to the first barrel, and a brace, winged, to the second. A long skein of cranes came gaggling over as we breakfasted on the banks of Guadalete, and, passing the Agredera, by evening the long ride was over, and we were once more amidst the grateful comforts of Jerez de la Frontera. Only for a brief period, however, did these delay us, for on the following evening we set out on a night expedition to the marisma.