CHAPTER XVII.

FURTHER EXPERIENCES WITH EAGLES AND VULTURES.

II.--CHIEFLY RELATING TO THE SIERRA.

On a hot May morning we lay beneath the shade of palms and eucalypti in the garden at Jerez, watching the gyrations of Kestrels, Swifts, and Bee-eaters, and lazily listening to the soft bird-chorus--an infinite, space-filling refrain from myriad Nightingales, Serins, and Gold-finches--to the spondee of Hoopoe and dactyl of Quail. Presently there appeared, far overhead, some half-dozen Griffon Vultures wheeling in immense circles, the huge birds dwarfed by the altitude to mere specks. Then another stratum, still higher, was detected, and afterwards a keen eye distinguished a third, and then a fourth, beyond the average range of human vision. How many more tiers of soaring vultures might yet occupy the regions of unseen space beyond, cannot be told: but the incident serves to illustrate the system on which Nature's great scavengers patrol the land. The lower strata we estimated at 800 to 1,000 yards altitude, and these only, it is probable, are on active service, the upper tiers merely standing by, ready to profit by the discoveries of all the working parties that may be in sight beneath them: for at the enormous elevations of the uppermost birds, it is impossible to suppose that even a vulture's eye could detect so small an object as, say, a dead goat on the earth.

There is something peculiarly impressive in the appearance of these colossal birds and in the automaton-like ease of their flight. Ponderous bodies appear suspended in mid-air without visible effort or exertion--the great square wings extended, rigid and motionless, filled with air like the wands of a wind-mill, enable them to rest on space, to soar for hours, as it were, by mere volition. How all the vultures manage to find subsistence is a problem, for even in Spain the earth is not strewn with carcases, as on a battle-field.

Towards a certain point of the evergreen plain of palmetto, there is a visible concentration of soaring forms: thither a string of creaking _carros_ has conveyed to their last resting-place some dead horses, the victims of Sunday's bull-fight. Thither flock the vultures to hold high carnival: and a striking sight it is to watch perhaps forty or fifty, as they soar and wheel in as many opposing, concentric circles, gradually focussing themselves over the point of attraction. But as they fold their wings and gather in a seething mass around the carrion, all that was majestic and imposing disappears--as they tear open the flanks and, with spluttering growls and gurgles, and flapping of huge wings, dive their great bare necks into the innermost penetralia, the spectacle changes to the repulsive. Yet, as the only existing system of scavengers, they are performing a useful office. Quickly swells the crowd: from every quarter come more and more--the heavens seem alive with hurrying forms sweeping down to the banquet. As the earlier arrivals become satiated, they withdraw a few yards from the revels to enjoy the state of rare repletion, perched on a neighbouring tree or hillock, where they sit with distended crop, fluffed-out feathers and half-closed wings, gorged to the last mouthful, but making room for fresh comers, hungry as they had been before. Thus within a few hours the luckless horses have found a tomb, and when the Griffons have left nothing but bare bones, then another feathered scavenger appears, the Neophron, or in Spanish _Quebranta-huesos_, _i.e._, the bone-smasher, who sets diligently to work to loosen the ligaments and tear the skeleton asunder. Then, one by one, the bones are carried off and broken by being dropped from a height upon the rocks, when the fragments are devoured: thus the earth is cleansed of corrupting matter.

Vultures, though found all over Spain--whether in mountain, marsh, or plain--breed only in the sierras. We have observed them in every province from Guipúzcoa to Galicia, and from Asturias to Mediterranean; but nowhere do they so greatly abound as in Andalucia, and especially in that wild mountain-region which forms the southernmost apex of Europe. Here they may fairly be said to swarm, and in our many campaigns in these sierras we have had abundant opportunities of observing them "at home." Here the Griffon Vultures build their broad flat nests on shelves and ledges of the crags, or in caves in the face of sheer walls of rock, many of which exceed 2,000 feet in vertical altitude. The little town of Grazalema is perched on the verge of one of these stupendous _tajos_; from the window of the _posada_ one can drop a pebble to invisible depths, midway down which a colony of _Buitres_ have had their eyries from time immemorial. The hill-villages of Arcos, El Bosque, Villa Martin, and Bornos, all present similar instances--man seeking the highest apex, the vultures its middle heights, beyond reach of bullet from above or below. Ronda, too, has its _tajo_, but we do not recollect seeing any vultures breeding actually beneath the town.

The Griffons commence repairing their nests as early as January--we have watched them carrying claw-fulls of grass and cut branches from places where charcoal-burners had been lopping the trees, on January 21st; a single large white egg is laid in February, incubation lasts forty days, and a naked, blue-skinned chick is hatched early in April. The young vultures are of extremely slow growth, spending full three months in the nest. By mid-May they are as big as Guinea-fowls: ungainly-looking creatures, all crop and maw, with feathers beginning to show through the thick white down.

Palomas, whose crags were tenanted by numerous Griffons, and the strange growls made by them on returning to their eyries was often the first sound heard on awakening. Once at that period (May) we were imprisoned in the Sierra de Ubrique, both our animals having fallen lame through loss of shoes, and it was with no small difficulty we eventually extricated ourselves from the heart of those rugged, pathless mountains. During four days and nights we were encamped in the wild pass of the Puerta de at daybreak, in our roofless bedroom among the boulders, mingled with the awakening notes of the Blue-thrush and Alpine chough. These nests proved to be quite the easiest of access we ever saw--the cliffs being rather a chaotic jumble of big rocks and monoliths than crags proper; and by clambering over these we reached sixteen nests--many very slight affairs, with bare rock projecting through the scanty structure--of which only two held more than a single poult. The nests of the Griffon--albeit malodorous--are always cleanly. These vultures feed their young exclusively on half-digested food which they disgorge from their own crops--hence there is no carrion or putrefying matter lying about, as is the case at the nests of the Neophron and Lammergeyer. It is the male vulture only that, at this season, undertakes lengthened journeys into the plains and low-lands, remaining absent for days together in search of supplies, and returning crop-full of unsavoury store. The vultures seen on the distant plains in spring are all males, the females remaining at or near their nests. The sketch on page 209 represents a curious scene. On the treeless plains of the Isla Mayor many vultures roost (in April) on a solitary clump of dead _encinas_, the lower branches and forks of which are also occupied by the nests of five or six pairs of White Storks.

Three of these eyries were situate on abrupt, detached stacks of rock, so easily accessible that we almost "walked" into them. Some years afterwards, passing through this sierra on March 1st, we found the three stacks occupied as before, each nest containing a single egg.

During this scramble we came suddenly upon a pair of Eagle-Owls, solemnly dreaming away the hours in a deep cavern; but, being in an awkward position on the crag-face, could not spare a hand to secure them. These caverns were also occupied by Choughs and Rock-Martins (_Cotyle rupestris_), the latter sharing a cave with hundreds of bats.[43]

Eventually, after dragging the lame beasts some twenty miles, we got clear of the sierra, but found that our absence had caused much anxiety at Jerez. On the outward ride, it had so chanced, we were present at a sad accident by which two men and their nine mules lost their lives, while attempting to cross the swollen Guadalete at the Barca Florida. Consequently we did not attempt the ford, and only reached the sierra after a long detour: but news of the accident having reached Jerez, and our disappearance being unluckily attributed thereto, the curious result was that the first person we met on the _vega_ of Guadalete was honest old Blas, all solemn and dejected, as he endeavoured, by watching the flight of the vultures, to discover our remains!

The beautiful crags of Zurita and the Agredera impending our historic Guadalete, and lying about a dozen miles from Jerez, are a favourite spring ride. In April their lower slopes are resplendent with acres of rhododendrons just bursting into bloom, crimson peonies peep from arid nooks, and the riverside is fringed with laurestinus and myrtle, oleanders, sallows and palmetto, all resonant with the melody of nightingales. To these crags the Neophron, or Egyptian Vulture, yearly resorts, and six or eight nests may be found in a day's ramble, all placed in holes or fissures of the cliff, which, from its rottenness and overhung form, is far from easy to scale. Nor is a Neophron's eyry a very delectable spot when reached; for, handsome as he looks on wing, this vulture is one of the foulest of feeders. The stench at his abode is overpowering; all around lies carrion in every stage of corruption, while swarms of loathsome flies rise and buzz heavily around the intruder. The nest itself is made of rags and wool--no sticks--and the two eggs, often as richly coloured as a Peregrine's, are laid early in April. Though the food of the Neophron is mostly bones, _ordure_, and garbage, yet it will, exceptionally, take living creatures; a male, shot on April 19th, when returning to his nest, carried in his beak the yet writhing remains of a small snake. In a rather low part of this range of crags (its highest point, the Agredera peak, is 1,000 feet plumb) a pair of Golden Eagles had their nest, or rather two nests, which they used alternately. The birds did not appear, but we saw the nests, immense masses of sticks conspicuously protruding from crevices in the crag, about forty yards apart. These cliffs are also tenanted by a colony of Genets.

In Andalucia, as in Eastern Europe, the Neophron occasionally nests upon trees. In the lovely, park-like country half a day's ride eastward of Jerez, several pairs breed yearly on high _encinas_, or ilex. Here, in spring, we have seen the old vultures on the nest, and in July have observed big young--dark brown fellows--perched on adjoining branches. For instance:--

_April 10th, 1891._--Examined to-day three Neophrons' nests on ilex-trees at the Encinar del Visco--broad, solid structures, twice as large as those of the Kites, and warmly lined with cows'-hair, wool, &c. Owing to the backward season, there were no eggs, though in 1883 we took two clutches (each two eggs) on same date.[44]

One afternoon in the early part of July, 1872--a period when Andalucia was seething with revolution and communistic ideas--a young Golden Eagle was brought in by José Larrios, a man we often employed in sport and country campaigns--the same José whose dare-devil escapade with a bull we have already related (see p. 10). This eaglet he had brought from the Sierra de Alcalá de los Gazules, nearly forty miles distant, where his brothers held a small mountain-farm; and there remained, he said, another fledgeling in the eyrie. The writer, in those early days, had not succeeded in shooting the Royal Eagle, and the ambition to do so was intense, despite the difficulty of the communists. Two days before we had returned from a fortnight's expedition to the westward, and when riding towards Jerez were stopped by a military cordon who invested the town and demanded our credentials. These being satisfactory, the officer in command informed us that street-fighting was taking place, and detained us till evening, when he kindly furnished us with an escort. We found that two days previously the city had been seized by an armed mob, thousands strong, who by a sudden _coup_ had gained possession of the public buildings and barricaded the streets. On the arrival of a troop of cavalry from Seville the mutineers incontinently fled, save a mere handful of the bolder spirits, who stood to their improvised defences to the last, and were finally shot down within the church of San Juan, wherein they had sought refuge. This revolution thus crumbled to nothing, though at one time it threatened to exceed in violence that of three years before (1869), when the barricades were taken at the point of the bayonet, and hundreds of insurgents were shot down in the streets of Jerez.

For the moment danger was past, and the city, within the armed cordon, restored to normal condition, though outside the state of the adjacent country was not certain. Keenness to kill the Royal Eagle of the sierras was paramount, and at midnight José and I set out from La Compañia, the old Jesuit convent which was then our home, and traversing the dark streets and narrow, sandy lanes beyond, we were soon clear of the town, and by daylight had reached the ford of the Alamillo, where we crossed the Guadalete, and were breakfasting at 6.30 in the hill-village of Paterna--five leagues. Early in the afternoon we completed the twelve leagues and reached the little _cortijo_ of Jautor, the abode of José's two brothers, who agreed to take us to the eagle's nest that evening. Jautor is surrounded by towering sierras, and we proceeded on foot up a rough goat-track, choked with strong brushwood, and leading up the steep southern acclivity. After climbing and walking about two hours, we reached the nest, a huge pile of sticks surmounting an oak-tree which hung over a deep _garganta_ or mountain-ravine. What was my vexation to find, after eighteen hours' labour, that it was empty! On one side lay part of the leg of a kid, and about half a hare, both quite fresh, but the eaglet was gone; and though we waited till dusk on the chance of the old bird returning, we saw nothing, and had to retrace our weary steps, sticking and stumbling in the dark, to the shepherds' hut, deadbeat and disappointed.

The _choza_ was a mere hut built of long _cañas_ or reeds, in the form of an extinguisher, the interior being circular, some 15ft. in diameter, occupied by many goats, poultry, and cats--not to mention minor inhabitants, and with a wood fire smouldering in the centre. I had hardly coiled myself in my rug and laid down to sleep on the low mud settee which ran round the back of the den, when a furious outburst of barking took place among the numerous dogs which lay sleeping round the fire. The goatherd opened the door, and there entered an old man, bronze-visaged and wiry, leading behind him a donkey. He was a smuggler, and his packs, crammed with contraband of infinite variety, were soon deposited on the floor, and the donkey hobbled and turned out to find bed and breakfast where it might. Then the _cerrones_ were unpacked, and their multifarious contents displayed on the mud floor--pins, needles and scissors, buttons, and bobbins of thread, tobacco, tape, and sundry kinds of coloured cloth and bright ribbons. The latter at once "fetched" the feminine portion of the community--alas! for the chances of sleep for the weary--female nature is everywhere the same, even in the _choza_ of a goatherd buried amidst these lonely sierras, and bargaining and chatter continued well-nigh throughout the livelong night.

The simple peasants, though unable to comprehend my object, were sincerely distressed at our failure; and next morning, while we were busy cooking our breakfast under the shade of a spreading laurestinus, came to say there was another eagle's nest on the opposite side of the valley. They had kindly sent a lad at daybreak to make inquiries at a neighbouring farm, four miles distant. Thither accordingly we set out, riding for several miles till the ascent became so abrupt, and intercepted with brushwood, that it was necessary to picket the horses, leaving them in charge of a lad, and to proceed on foot. We crossed the ridge of the sierra and entered an upland valley beyond, where, in a tall poplar, standing slightly apart, was a rather small nest containing a single eaglet. I must have fallen asleep at my post, for presently José, who had left me in ambush, aroused me to say that the eagle had returned, fed her young, and departed! While we were talking the female flew overhead, and instantly catching sight of us, with a scream dropped a rabbit she was carrying, and soared heavenwards. My shot dropped her stone-dead, and she fell within a few yards of her victim--a female of the Serpent-Eagle, a species well known on the wooded plains, but which we had hardly expected to find in the mountains. We have related this incident because there followed one of the most singular occurrences that have happened within our ornithological experiences. On being skinned, this eagle was found to contain the almost entire remains of a young eagle, which, from its feathered tarsi and general appearance, was certainly a nestling Golden Eagle--the counterpart, perhaps the brother, of the one José had already brought alive to Jerez! We can only state the bare fact, as above, and surmise that the youngster was yesterday the occupant of the eyrie we had travelled so far to despoil, and that the actual and would-be destroyers had thus accidentally come in collision.

About a league further the valley terminated in a fine amphitheatre of crags, showing remarkably bold and abrupt escarpments. The highest part was occupied by a colony of Griffons, and while resting for an hour or so in a niche of this mountain rampart, I shot four of the great birds. Collectively they measured across the expanded wings some thirty-eight feet, and though we had no means of weighing them, estimated them at about forty pounds apiece. One of the vultures shot here, a fine bird with bushy white frill, the peasants asserted to be between 300 and 400 years old, though how they could tell is a mystery. This bird was killed with ball on the wing. The smell of Griffon Vultures when shot is strong and most offensive: their claws and long feathers are always much abraded by attrition on the rocks, and their whole plumage has a worn and faded appearance, in harmony with the decay and death in which they rejoice.

The young vultures were at last (July 8th) on the wing, having spent some three months in the nests:[45] they are now of a clear, bright cinnamon colour, much handsomer than the adults, each feather being shaded; and one shot to-day measured between eight and nine feet in expanse of wing.

Our lofty perch commanded a grand mountain landscape--sierras extending range beyond range in swelling stony masses or jagged sky-lines. Alpine Swifts dashed overhead; Blackchats and Blue Rock-Thrushes flitted among the crags, and, with the great vultures soaring above and below, afforded some interesting scenes. The mid-day heat was intense, and we had a rough tramp down to the horses through broken ground and thick young wood, where we disturbed a Roe and saw many traces of others. It was after dark when we reached a miserable wayside venta, where, alongside half a dozen snoring peasants and tormented by a million fleas, we passed the night on the ground.

Returning homewards next morning, while we were passing through the outlying spurs or foothills of the sierra, a pair of large dark eagles were observed hunting a scrub-covered ridge. The larger of the two presently swept down upon an unlucky rabbit and forthwith commenced to devour it, the male perching on a stump hard by. They were favourably situate for a stalk, and by riding round in a wide circuit I gained the reverse of the ridge. On creeping forward to my marks, however, I could at first see nothing--only a few palmetto bushes some distance down the slope. Having crawled to these, I perceived the eagle busily tearing up her prey in a slight hollow of the ground. She was only forty yards away, yet the sitting shot (broadside on) produced no effect. A "green wire-cartridge, No. 1" from the left, broke a wing as she rose, and, after some little trouble, she was secured. She proved to be a Bonelli's Eagle (_Aquila bonellii_), a perfect adult specimen, dark brown above, with white breast boldly streaked and splashed with black: the bushy "stockings" and warm reddish-brown _tarsi_ contrasting with the long white "apron" which overlapped them. (_See photo._)

Thus occurred--over twenty years ago--our first introduction to Bonelli's Eagle: since then we have met with them frequently in the southern sierras, in the Castiles, and once in the Biscayan Provinces. It is, in fact, the commonest mountain-breeding eagle in Spain, and is easily recognizable by its short, dappled wings, and by the peculiar feature that the _middle_ of the back is white--thus, if seen from above, the bird appears to have a large white spot between the wings.

In former days, the hill-peasants assert that it bred in quite low rocks, and several such abandoned eyries have been pointed out to us: but we have only seen its nest in the most stupendous rock-walls--places that make one's flesh creep to survey. The two eggs, usually white, but occasionally splashed or spotted, are laid in the early days of February--we have watched these eagles repairing their nest at Christmas. The young in first plumage, like those of the Imperial Eagle, are of a chestnut-tawny hue. The claws of Bonelli's Eagle are remarkably long and powerful, and its chief prey consists of hares, rabbits, and other game. Hares it appears unable to carry up _whole_ to its eyry on the heights, tearing them into halves, and birds found in its nest are usually headless.

The Golden Eagle also breeds in all the mountain-regions of Spain, both in high rocks and occasionally (as above mentioned) on trees. Its nest is often an enormous structure--quite a cartload of sticks.

The Golden and Bonelli's Eagles are strictly denizens of the mountains: but in autumn both species descend to the plains and marismas in search of prey. On more than one occasion, while shooting on the lowlands in winter, we have secured a Golden Eagle as he flew to roost in the pine-woods: and on Nov. 29th, some years ago, while flight-shooting, a Bonelli's Eagle was so intent on the capture of a winged Ruddy Sheldrake (_Tadorna rutila_) which had fallen to a neighbouring gun, as almost to fly into the writer's _puesto_. This eagle was in the act of lifting the heavy duck off the water when a charge of big shot cut him down.

Our old _cazador_, Felipe, who has since become keeper on a rabbit and partridge preserve fully twenty miles from the nearest point of the sierra, told us that so many eagles come down to prey on his rabbits during the months of November and December that during the preceding season he had killed over thirty. Felipe added that they were mostly Golden and Bonelli's Eagles (_Aguila perdicera_ he called the latter), with a few Serpent-Eagles earlier in the autumn. At the time of our visit (January) most of the eagles had retired to the sierras to breed: but a few days afterwards Felipe rode in with a cargo which sorely puzzled the officials of the _consumos_ (octroi), for under either arm he bore an eagle, and in a sack on his back were two immense wild-cats! The eagles were _A. chrysäetus_, and an immature, tawny-breasted Bonelli.