Wild Spain Part 3

Such, roughly described, are the two chief recognized systems of shooting the Great Bustard: _i.e._, _driving_, which can be practised at any period of autumn, winter, or early spring, but which is most effective in March, when the growing crops afford sufficient "blind"; and shooting from the cart, which is only available during, or just after, harvest.

There remains, however, another method by which this game may be brought to bag--one which we may claim to have ourselves invented and brought to some degree of perfection--namely:

BUSTARD-SHOOTING SINGLE-HANDED.

At one period of the year (about May), just before the corn comes into ear, and when the male bustards are banded together, they are much more accessible, the corn being high all around them, and the guns more easily concealed. But the objections from a farmer's point of view are obvious, and we have rarely followed them under these conditions, though it is a favourite period with Spanish sportsmen.

We have frequently been asked by the country people to try our hands at their ambuscades by the wells (above described), and often caused surprise by declining to kill bustards in this way. It was, in fact, because we did not enjoy any of the means in vogue with the natives, that we resolved to try what could be done single-handed; and by sticking to it and hard work, have since accounted for many a fine _barbon_, and enjoyed many an hour's exciting sport with others not brought to bag, and which probably still roam over the Andalucian _vegas_ to give fine sport another day.

On foot nothing could be done single-handed, but by the aid and co-operation of a steady old pony, success was found to be possible. As soon as the country is cleared of corn (about July or August), bustard pa.s.s the mid-day hours sheltering from the sun in any patch of high thistles or palmetto that may grow on the bare lands or stubbles. We have also found them, during mid-summer, under olive-trees, but never in any cover or spot where they could not command all the s.p.a.ce for many gunshots around. Having been disturbed in their siesta--generally about a couple of hundred yards before the horseman reaches them--the birds stand up, shake the dust from their feathers, and are all attention to see that the intruder has no evil designs upon them. Ride directly towards them and they are off at once; but if approach be made cautiously and circuitously, the bustards, though suspicious and uneasy, do not rise but walk slowly away, for they are reluctant to take wing at this hot time. It is needless to add that the intense heat is also a severe test of endurance to the bustard-shooter. By keeping one's own figure and the pony's head as much averted as possible--advancing sidelong, crab-fas.h.i.+on, so to speak, and gradually circling inwards, one may, with patience, at length attain a deadly range,--seldom near, but still near enough to use the heavy AAA mould-shot with fatal effect, for the bustard, despite his bulk, is not a very hard or close-feathered bird, and falls to a blow that the grey goose would laugh at. When the nearest point is reached--and one learns by experience to judge by the demeanour of the game when they will permit no nearer approach--the opportune moment must be seized; the first barrel put in smartly on the ground, and more deliberate aim taken with the second as they rise.

The hotter the day, the nearer one can get. Much depends on the horse: if he does not stop _dead_ the chance is lost, as the bustards rise directly on detecting a change in the movements of horse and man. With practice my pony became very clever, and came to know as well as his rider what was going on, so that after a time, we could rely on getting three or four shots a day and seldom returned without one bustard, frequently two or three. During one year (his best) the writer bagged sixty-two bustards to his own gun.

We make it a rule to accept no shot at any very risky distance, finding that, if not scared, the birds do not fly so far, and are more accessible on a second approach. Sometimes there occur lucky spots where, as one is slowly drawing round on them, the bustards walk over the crest of a ridge, and disappear. This is a chance not to be lost--slip from the saddle, run straight to the ridge, and surprise them, as they descend the reverse slope, with a couple of barrels ere they have time to realize the danger. Dips and hills, as before remarked, are not frequent on the haunts of bustards, but we have chanced on such localities more than once. Upon one occasion we bagged a brace of the largest _barbones_ we ever saw by such a piece of good luck.

A blazing sun is a great a.s.sistance, making the birds lazy and disinclined to exert themselves. As an instance of this we remember being after bustard one day in September--an intensely hot day even for Spain, and with a fiery sun beating down on the quivering plains. Though well protected by a thick felt helmet and wearing the lightest of light summer clothes, the heat was almost more than one could endure. We had unsuccessfully ridden over some thousands of acres of stubble and waste--it was on the historic plains of Guadalete where Roderic and the Arabs fought--when at length we were gratified by observing three bustards walk out of a cl.u.s.ter of thistles. After twice circling round them, we saw that at eighty or ninety yards' distance, they would stand it no longer: so turning in the saddle, gave them both barrels, but without effect, as they sailed away about a mile and settled. On a second approach, as they rose at 200 yards, it looked as though they were impracticable, but doubting if there were other birds in that neighbourhood, we kept on, and followed them in this second flight, which this time was shorter. Again they rose wild--wilder than ever, at fully 800 yards. They came down upon a patch of the barley-stubbled plain where we were able to mark their position to a nicety, for they pitched close to a _sombrajo_, or sun-shade for cattle (a thatch of palmetto spread on aloe-poles). On approaching the place, and not seeing the bustards afoot, we concluded they were resting after their repeated flights; but having reached almost the exact spot, we could still see nothing of them. This was perplexing. We knew they could not have risen, for our eyes had never left the spot where they had settled. What could have become of them?... All at once we saw them, squatting flat within thirty yards of us, each bird pressed close down with his neck stretched along the ground. All trouble was now rewarded. It was not a chance to be risked by shooting from the saddle: and as we slid to the ground, gun c.o.c.ked, and facing the birds, we felt it was the best double rise at big bustards that ever man had. As we touched the ground, they rose: one fell dead at forty yards, a second, wheeling back, showed too much of his white breast to be let off; the third flew far beyond view, and the only regret, for a moment, was that there were no treble-barrelled breech-loaders. Half an hour later we fell in with a band of young bustards, which allowed us to approach near enough to drop one; so that evening the old pony had a good load to carry home.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GREAT BUSTARDS--AN APRIL DAWN.]

CHAPTER IV.

BIG DAYS WITH BUSTARD.

I.--JEDILLA.

The two following examples of fortunate days will serve to ill.u.s.trate the system of bustard-shooting as practised on the corn-lands of Southern Spain, and convey some idea of the haunts and habits of this n.o.ble game-bird, in a region where they still remain abundant.

The rendezvous was at the Cortijo de Jedilla, a farm lying some twelve miles away, and the hour fixed was nine o'clock on an April morning.

This, along a road that resembled the remains of an earthquake, necessitated an early start. For near three hours we rattled and jolted along in the roomy brake, that lurched at times like a cross-channel steamer, to the merry-jingling bells of a four-in-hand mule-team.

At the hour appointed our ponies and people stood around the broad-arched entrance of the cortijo, all under the direction of old Blas, the keen-eyed mountaineer, equally at home on rugged sierra, or bestriding bare-backed his restive colt, and intimately acquainted with every inch of the wide country around. Blas had left home long before daybreak on that lovely spring morning, and after covering the four leagues across the plains at a hand-gallop, had already--like swift Camilla--scoured all the cultivated lands around the cortijo, in search of the big birds while yet they were busy seeking their matutinal feed.

He received us with the gratifying intelligence that he had marked _tres bandadas_--three packs of bustard. In a few minutes we were mounted, the guns slung in the _fundas_, and away.

Blas led the file of hors.e.m.e.n towards the nearest band. We were a party of four, with a contingent of six mounted hands under Blas' directions in the ticklish work of driving. Presently the bustards are descried, their lavender heads and lighter necks visible, through the gla.s.ses, above the _biznagas_ (visnaya of Linnaeus) on a hillside some 1,000 yards away.

Their position, on a hill of so gentle a slope as to command all the plain around, was most difficult to surround; however, as a forlorn hope, and rather with the object of moving them to more favourable ground, we rode slowly past them on the north, at about 300 yards, the birds perking their heads and taking the most lively interest in the string of hors.e.m.e.n. When the nature of the land afforded a cover from the birds' view, we rode round to the southern side, but always at too great a distance to promise anything like a fair chance of getting the birds over us.[9] Our four guns, however, now spread out along the slope, covering among them some quarter-mile of possible flight. The men, riding round to the northern side again, opened out in line, and slowly came in towards the common centre. At first the pack came straight for the guns; but the leader, flying higher than the rest, caught sight of a foe--of No. 1 gun lying full length on the soil--swerved, and took with him the whole pack, out of shot on the extreme right. The latter fact our inexperienced friend in that quarter did not comprehend, for he let drive a couple of quick and useless barrels. Worse than useless! for, as we watched the splendid birds streaming away into s.p.a.ce across the valleys of spring corn, we knew that our chance at that _bandada_ was gone--at least for the day.

The second band required a good deal of finding: although Blas was confident he had correctly localized them, we could descry no bustards anywhere in that neighbourhood. At length one of our scouts brought us good news; the birds had walked more than a mile from where Blas had seen them in the early morning. We now waited for him to reconnoitre, and he soon reported that they were basking in the sun amidst a sea of shooting barley--a fact we shortly verified with our field-gla.s.ses. Not only were they so favourably placed for a stalk that we would be able to "horseshoe" the four guns behind them at almost certain distance, but the drivers (by a long detour) would also get well in at the front of their position unseen. The two centre guns were placed in the valley at the foot of the green slope, while the two flanking guns were enabled, by the favouring ground, to creep well up the hillside--a disposition which would leave the birds wholly enclosed at their first flight. The central posts had also the advantage of a rank growth of weeds along the hollow, which effectually concealed them from view. It was a short affair. The writer (left flank) soon heard the whirr of heavy wings: the game pa.s.sed between him and the opposite flanking gun, out of shot of either, but "entering" beautifully to the centre. Both guns rose to watch the tableau. Straight as a line pa.s.sed forward the huge _barbones_--some five-and-twenty of them, the resplendent plumage of rich orange and contrasting black and white set off against the green background; their great swollen necks appeared almost disproportionately heavy, even for those broad pinions and (seemingly) leisurely flight.

But bustards, like all heavy game, travel vastly quicker than appears to be the case, as the sequel proved.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Plate IX.

GREAT BUSTARDS AMONG THE SPRING CORN.

Page 48.]

Now they are on the very fringe of the darker green of the hollow; our centre guns have them at their mercy. Don't they see them? Yes; two figures rise from the rank weeds, and flas.h.i.+ng barrels enfilade the flock. One, two, three, four reports ring out; but ... not a bird comes down, the frightened monsters spread asunder, winging a quicker flight in all directions. One huge _barbudo_ behind the rest wheels back and almost gives us a chance as he takes the hill in reverse; but he sees the danger and pa.s.ses to the right, swerving in his course too near our _vis-a-vis_, and before we hear the report we can see the ponderous ma.s.s of 30lbs. of bustard collapse. He is struck well forward, in head and neck, and pitches heavily earthwards, splitting his broad chest as it rebounds from the unyielding soil. We had--and that by sheer chance--a single head to show for this carefully-planned drive.

Our young friends in the valley were sad indeed, but over such things let us draw the veil. The drivers, too, had witnessed their failure. It may be safer rather to leave their feelings to the sympathetic reader to imagine than to describe. Old Blas declared they had "llenado el ojo de carne"--that the huge bulk of the birds had concealed from over-anxious eyes the rapidity of their flight. After lunch what had appeared a catastrophe became a jest.

An unsuccessful manuvre followed, and we had to ride afar to seek fresh _bandadas_. After traversing leagues of corn-land--at this season as lonely as an African desert,--we descried a considerable pack, and again luck favoured us as to site. An _arroyo_, or stream, ran along the valley below--one of those small rapid currents that, in winter, tear deep and narrow gulleys, and in the summer become quite dry, save in a few of the deeper pools or favoured corners which resist the heat and afford nesting homes for the mallard and drinking resorts for the bustard. Now, there was water all along, and tall reeds and canes grew several feet in height. Could we place the guns along this ditch the drive was secure. The question was, Would the birds allow a mounted group to pa.s.s so near? We tried and succeeded. Witness's luck placed him in a cane-brake, whence he could watch every movement of the bustards at leisure. On rising, the pack bore straight to the gun on the left.

Luckily (for us), this "point-gun," in his undue anxiety, showed too soon--before the birds had come well in. The pack swung in our direction, right along the line, giving a chance to both centre guns (only one of which was taken advantage of), and then bore straight for the writer, well overhead, and not over 60 feet high--an _embarras de richesse_.

The first and second shots, with the 12-bore, stopped a pair of what appeared the biggest of the pack, coming in--right and left--and then, picking up a single 4-bore, there followed the further satisfaction of pulling down a third old male at very long range. These three superb birds weighed 93lbs.--a notable shot, probably without parallel in sporting annals.

Before night we found twice more, and each of the _batidas_ added a bird to the bag, the result of the day's sport being seven n.o.ble _barbones_, or male bustard, now in the fullest glory of their splendid spring plumage.

Thus ended a successful day, on which Fortune had favoured us, on several occasions, in finding the game in accessible situations. Such good luck does not always, nor even often, await the bustard-shooter; and even when it does, there still remains the real _crux_--the quick intuition of the requisite strategical movements and their successful execution.

II.--SANTO DOMINGO. AN IDYL.

The chimes of San Miguel were already ringing out the summons to even-song. Graceful figures in dark lace and mantillas hurried across the palm-shaded Plaza, as two Ingleses (_sus servidores de ustedes_) rode out of the city on an April afternoon.

It was rather for a ride than with any special sporting object in view that we set out. Yet, as is always the case in Spain, the guns were slung behind the saddle, and we remembered that, only a few days before, one of us had encountered a band of thirteen bustards--a dozen of which should still be basking on the green corn-lands of Santo Domingo, within a league of the _octroi_ boundary.

The binoculars, however, swept the swelling grounds without disclosing any occupants more important than a group of grey cranes and a pair of partridges indulging in vernal flirtations, careless of a kite which hovered hard by.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BUSTARD-SHOOTER--TRIUMPH!]

Beyond the corn-land lay undulated _manchones_, or fallows, clothed with a short growth of gra.s.s and thistles, and here on the summit of a flat-crowned knoll, a mile away, we descried a band of eight bustards.

Hardly could a more unfavourable spot be selected. Their sentries commanded every visible approach, and we advanced in Indian file to reconnoitre, with the conviction that any operation must be in the nature of a forlorn hope. But a skill and rapid perception of the least advantage, worthy of a field-marshal, were at work, directed against the hapless eight. Riding circuitously around the game, we had approached as near as prudence allowed--some 300 yards, when an almost imperceptible depression served for a few moments to screen us from their view. Hardly had the last head sunk below the sky-line than one of the two guns rolled out of the saddle, pa.s.sing the reins to his companion, who, in ten more yards, had reappeared to the already suspicious bustards. By the invaluable aid of a tiny furrow, worn by the winter's rains, but barely a foot in depth, No. 1 managed to worm a serpentine progression to the shoulder of the hill,--a point some 100 yards up the gentle slope, and barely twice that distance from the game,--while No. 2, slowly encircling the birds at 200 yards radius, gradually contracting and in full view, gained the reverse of the hill. Twice the big sentry had given the warning to "be ready"; as often the hunter widened his course till suspicion was allayed. Critical moments these, when success or failure depend upon a thread: upon instant diagnosis of what is pa.s.sing in one's opponent's mind, divining, so to speak, his intentions before he has actually perfected them, or even decided himself.

So perfect in this encounter was the strategy--so complete the ascendency of mind over instinct--and the keenest instinct of all, that of self-preservation--that in due time the intervening s.p.a.ce had been diminished, yard by yard, almost to the fatal range. Presently the still hesitating birds are little more than one hundred yards away--the great sentinel some five yards nearer. Now: mark well every movement of his--there is the signal at last: his stately head is lowered--slowly lowered some six inches while he still watches intently. Now he takes a rapid step forward--he is going. But hardly have the huge wings unfolded than the rider has sprung to his feet, and a couple of charges of "treble A" crash together into that broad back and lowered neck. The distance is great--near 100 yards--but mould-shot and cold-drawn steel barrels have done it before, and will do it again: back to earth, which he had barely quitted, returns the stricken monarch of the plain, blood staining his snowy breast, and one great pinion hanging useless by his side.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Plate X.

ANCIENT DRAW-WELL ON THE PLAINS.

Page 52.]

The seven survivors wing away straight towards the point where the other gun lies hidden in the dry drain-head. Mark! Now the leading _barbon_ checks his flight as he sees the flash of barrels beneath: but it is all too late, and down he, too, comes with a mighty crash, to earth. A third, offering only a "stern shot," continues a laboured flight, his pinion-feathers sticking out at sixes and sevens, and soon pitches on the verge of a marshy hollow where storks are dotted about in search of frogs. It was an awkward place, and necessitated moving him again: indeed, this bird gave no small trouble to secure. The sun had already set, and night drew on apace, ere the final shot, ringing out amidst gathering gloom, told that he, too, had been added to the spoils of that glorious afternoon.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER V.

TAUROMACHIA,

THE FIGHTING BULL OF SPAIN.