CHAPTER XX.

BIRD-LIFE OF THE SPANISH SPRING-TIME.

I.--THE PINALES, OR PINE REGION.

There are features of Spanish bird-life that give the subject a claim on the interest of British readers. Spain is the home of many of those species which we call "rare;" some of the rarest are here quite common. Especially is this the case with the large birds of prey, with many aquatic species--such as the beautiful Southern Herons--and various other bird-groups.

Lying midway between Europe and Africa, Spain also affords opportunity for the observation of migration--nearly all our British summer-birds can be observed here in transit, during the spring months: some, indeed, have wintered in Spain, while the rest appear on passage from Africa to the North.

More than this, Spain possesses a magnificent avi-fauna of her own, entirely unknown in England. Ornithologically, her southern provinces--at least in spring--might be included in what Mr. Sclater designates the "Cis-atlantean Subregion" (_Ibis_, 1891, p. 523), for their feathered denizens at that season approximate rather to the North African than to the European _ornis_.

Nor need these spring-notes be interesting _exclusively_ to the naturalist: for observation in the wilder and more remote regions involves a degree of hard work and of field-craft that brings this bird-hunting fairly within the category of _sport_. Cases in point, as those of the Flamingo and Crane--elsewhere described, and of the eagles and large raptores. Here, for example, is one day's record from our diary:--"Camp at Navasso Redondo, _April 18th_.--Our captures to-day included 3 eagles, 4 kites, 2 large hawks, 5 ducks, an egret, 2 stone-plover, &c. First, Felipe woke me at day-break to say a pair of _aguiluchos_ had just coursed and killed a hare within 200 yards of the tent. Turned out in jersey and _alparagatas_, and stalked the spot indicated, when a small eagle flew from a tree away in the scrub to the left. I stood up, thinking the game was gone, when a second Booted Eagle (_Aquila pennata_) rose from the ground not forty yards ahead, and was secured. Later on, during the mid-day heat, we _thrice_ descried eagles perched on high trees--unusual luck. Both the first and second stalks failed, owing partly to bad marking in the first case, and to 'impossible' terrain in the second. The third, however, I killed--a very handsome tawny eagle. He was sitting on a pine in the centre of a circular swampy jungle: there was no considerable difficulty in creeping round the outside, nor till the final, direct approach commenced, when the ground became very bad--for the last 100 yards, strong briar-bound thicket and tussocks of spear-grass with deep bog-pools between, water up to one's waist. Had got to fifty yards when he saw me, and a lucky shot killed him as he opened his wings. Also stalked to-day two Harriers--a Marsh-Harrier (female) and a beautiful blue old Montagu: in the first case the stalk was supplemented by a short 'drive' by Felipe. At dusk we observed a pair of Serpent-Eagles go to roost in a large single _alcornoque_: waited till dark, when we crept, barefoot, towards the tree, one on either side, and I killed the female eagle as she flew out into the moonlight. During the day we had found five nests of the Kite--shot four birds for identification, two from nest, the others after long _puestos_--and also brought in, besides the eagles, &c., two Gadwall, a Garganey drake, two White-eyed Pochard, an egret, seven terns (various), several small birds, and twenty-nine eggs--a memorable day!" To stalk to within gunshot of an eagle, on the open plain, is almost as difficult an operation as any in our experience--that is unless, as sometimes happens, the conditions are unusually favourable.

During several springs we have made ornithological expeditions each of a fortnight to three weeks' duration, in various parts of Andalucia (itself nearly as large as England), La Mancha, and Southern Estremadura. Between the great rivers Guadalquivir and Guadiana lies a wild region, almost abandoned to wild animals, and rich in picturesque desolation. The district is an undulating plain, its chief physical constituent being sand, or light sandy soil, clad over wide areas with pine-forest, elsewhere with open heaths which extend from the Atlantic to the confines of Estremadura and the border-land between Spain and Portugal, or rather of the ancient kingdom of the Algarves. The southern portion is known as the _Cotos del Rey_ and _Doñana_, the latter, extending some forty miles inland from the sea, the property of the noble house bearing one of the oldest European titles--that of Medina Sidonia. The Coto de Doñana, as the name implies, is a preserve, and, owing to the circumstance of our having for many years been lessees of the sporting rights, this lovely wilderness has formed a favourite hunting-ground at all seasons. But we have also traversed some other of the wilder regions of the south--many quite as rich, zoologically--such, for example, as the wooded province of Córdova, the _vegas_ of the Sierra Nevada and the environs of Almaden; and we now believe that, for the naturalist, the richest field of all is in Southern Estremadura and the almost unexplored borders of Guadiana. That river, from Daimiel downwards, flows through wildernesses of cane-brake, abounding both in large and small game, and in spring-time with infinite variety of birds.

For our present purpose we have divided the Spanish plains into three sections:--the pine-forests, the open heaths, and the meres or lagoons; of these we will now take the _pinales_.

The first thing that strikes an Englishman in Spain is the number and variety of the birds of prey. At home we have practically exterminated these, but here they are ever in evidence, from massive eagles and yet larger vultures down to the smallest falcons. Those bald-headed fellows, hunting low with heavy flight, or "drifting" alternately on motionless pinions, are Marsh-Harriers; the long-winged hawks, like giant swallows, are the Montagu's Harrier. Buzzards are of more soaring flight, resembling in form the eagles, but lacking their regal presence; while the Kites are recognized by the deeply forked tail. Ever since Rugby days and the Kestrel's nest in Caldecott's classic spinney, the birds of prey have had a special attraction to the writer--to whom, _pace_ the later lights of ornithological science, a hawk still holds the chief place among birds.

Starting on a bright April morning to traverse the _pinales_ of La Marismilla, our first find was a nest of the Serpent-Eagle (_Circäetus gallicus_) built in the main fork of a stone-pine, a curiously twisted tree growing apart on a heathery knoll in a forest-glade. This, and all the nests of this eagle we have seen, was small, very thick in proportion to width, had a layer of dead leaves, and then a lining of twigs. This bird only lays one egg--large, rough, and white--which fact perhaps explains the relative smallness of their nests. Below are strewn many vertebræ of serpents; a female we shot had a snake four feet long in her beak, only a few inches hanging outside; another, killed at her nest in a mountain-forest of the sierra, had a rabbit; but snakes and large reptiles are their chief prey. Snakes abound in Spain, and some grow to great size, many reaching six feet in length, and we have killed lizards of nearly three.

The legs and feet of this eagle are pale bluish, and very rough--to hold their slippery prey. The eye is large, overhung, and very bright yellow; flight buoyant, but rather unsteady, and they show very white from below. Most reptiles hybernating, even in sunny Spain, the Serpent-Eagle is only a summer migrant--we have never observed it in the winter months. The date of arrival this year (1891) was March 8th. In 1888 we observed a pair as early as the 3rd.

Both eagles soared around so near that there was no difficulty in recognizing the species; indeed their heavy heads--almost owl-like--recurved wings and white under-sides, cannot be mistaken.[51] Not requiring them as specimens, we continued our ride, and during the day found two nests of the Buzzard, each with three eggs; the only nests of this species found this spring--except one with young in June--the Buzzard being more numerous in winter, when almost every dead tree is occupied by one of these indolent hawks. All the Spanish-breeding Buzzards are of the normal dark brown type. The Goshawk (_Astur palumbarius_) we have also observed in these Andalucian forests both in spring and winter, but have not chanced to find it breeding here ourselves, though it is on record that it occasionally does so.

The next two nests discovered were both those of the Kite (_Milvus ictinus_), each on a lofty pine. There are in Spain two kinds of Kite, whose wild musical scream is characteristic of these lonely woodlands. There is the _Milano real_--the Red Kite, resident in Spain, and distinguishable from the migrant Black Kite (_Milvus migrans_) by the broad white band on the under-wing, caused by the basal half of the primaries being white beneath (this band in _M. migrans_ being smoke-grey), and by the more deeply forked tail. The Black Kite is altogether a more dusky coloured species.

The eggs of the two species, and those of Buzzards and others, are indistinguishable; it is therefore necessary to shoot or trap the birds from the nest to make sure of identification. But the Red Kite breeds earlier (at the end of March, and early in April) and in more secluded spots than its ally, whose habits, moreover, are, in places, almost gregarious. We have seen a score of Black Kites' nests in a small patch of wood, not two acres--but eggs are not laid till quite the end of April or early in May.

A singular, but well-known, habit of the Kite (the Red, not the Black species) is to decorate their abodes with a collection of gaudy rags and other fantastic rubbish: in one case I found the dead and dried remains of a White Owl hung up, in others the long quill-feathers of the Spoon-bill and other birds, a linen shirt-sleeve, old match-boxes, and similar sundries. But this curious custom was useful in saving many an unnecessary climb--no nest was worth going up to unless a rag or two fluttered in the breeze. The Kites, moreover, select the loftiest trees for their abodes, and owing to the habit of Spanish foresters to lop off all the lower branches of the pines when saplings, these trees grow up tall, straight, and slippery as fishing-rods. Fortunately for oological enterprise, the scant population of the _pinales_ are mostly _piñaleros_--pine-cone gatherers. These pine-cones are used for fuel and for making a confection something like _nougat_. The tree-climbing abilities of the _piñaleros_ are marvellous: in this way we obtained many eggs of Kite, Buzzard, Booted Eagle, and most of the forest-breeding species.

After a stiff climb to one Kite's nest, built in a tall branchless aspen, whose base was barricaded by clinging thorny briars, I was disappointed to find no eggs. The Kite had sat close, and I had just shot her from the nest: all around hung the customary decorations, yet the big nest appeared to contain nothing but a white rag. I turned this over, and there, beneath and almost wrapt in what proved to be a delicate cambric handkerchief, embroidered with the name "Antonia M.," lay two handsome eggs! The fair Andaluza who had lost this property might throw an interesting light on the distances traversed by Kites in the search thereof: Shakespeare warned her (_Winter's Tale_, Act IV., Sc. 2), "Where the Kite builds, look to lesser linen."

Another denizen of the _pinales_ requires passing notice--the Raven. It is curious that in Spain these birds nest later than in northern lands. In Northumberland the Raven lays early in March, or even at the end of February, amidst snow and frost. Here, on the last day of April, we found two nests on pines not far apart. One was warmly lined with sheep's wool, but still empty; the other with rabbits' fur, and contained five fresh eggs.

The nests of Ravens, Kites, Buzzards, and Booted Eagles are hardly distinguishable from below, except that the eagle usually selects the main fork, the others building out on the lateral branches. In the crevices and foundations of all these large nests are often inserted the untidy, grass-built edifices of the chestnut-headed Spanish Sparrow (_Passer salicicolus_), a forest-loving species, not found in the haunts of men like his cousin of the streets, and having a special predilection for sharing the homes of the larger raptores, as our Sparrows at home build under the nests in a rookery.

The large birds of prey are always difficult to shoot, even at their nests: and for capturing them the circular steel-traps proved invaluable, saving much time and being almost certain in their action. The miseries of a _puesto_, or ambush, of an hour, or even two, lying on the burning sand, in the stifling heat of the underwood, to await the return of the birds, one does not forget. For minutes that pass like an eternity, the keen-eyed Kite will hover and sail overhead; meanwhile a hissing column of mosquitoes have focussed themselves over one's face: black ants, like small dumb-bells, and creeping things innumerable, penetrate up one's sleeve and down one's neck: while at the critical moment, when one must remain rigidly motionless, a huge hairy spider of hideous mien gently lowers itself on to one's nose.

A Kite or Buzzard is too cautious to return directly to the nest. Alighting first on a distant pine, it will approach by three or four flights, and at last one knows that the coveted prize sits well within shot, but either directly behind, or in such a position that (from the ambush) the gun cannot be brought to bear. The trap saved all this, and rarely failed to secure such specimens as were required--many caught by the beak and killed instantly.[52]

A characteristic of the forests of Doñana are the enormous sand-hills--mountains of blown sand dazzling in the reflected sunlight, and devoid of green thing or trace of life, beyond the track of prowling Lynx or Mongoose, or the curious "broad-gauge" _vestigia_ of the tortoise. Stay: there is a thin black strip of moving objects--they are all ants, and that is one of their great highways--a beaten track connecting two great industrial centres. Except on the chosen line--a mere strip barely an inch wide, though hundreds of yards in length--not another insect will be visible on the wastes of sand. To the selected route each member of their infinite community confines his course as systematically as the steamships of our great ocean lines. One cannot resist the temptation of interrupting this well-regulated microcosm. Instantly confusion spreads in the black ranks: around the point of obstruction the intercepted battalions spread out like a fan: the tumult and disorder extend backwards along either column till for yards the sand is carpeted with the fragments of a disorganized host. But these scattered units are each seeking to re-establish their lost continuity. The re-formed column deflects a little to pass on one side or the other (not both), and in a few minutes the "trade-route" has resumed its former monotonous regularity.

Elsewhere the sand-wastes are clothed, especially in their deeper dells and hollows, with cistus-scrub or tamarisk, and the stone-pine (_Pinus pinea_) somehow finds sustenance and even luxuriates. How plant-life can survive on the remnants of pulverized rock is a mystery--though here, perhaps, the deep-seated roots strike into alluvial soil below--and no more comprehensible in view of the analogous fact that the vines producing the richest Spanish wines also flourish in equally ungenial soils. The vintages of Jerez are garnered from grapes grown on arid and silicious soil: the strong red wine of Val-de-Peñas, so grateful in torrid Spain, comes, literally, from a "valley of stones," and in the Alto Douro the vineyards occupy hillsides composed of little bits of (what looks like) broken slate and disintegrated shale, so little coherent, that the slopes must be terraced before they are cultivable. Strange anomalies--plant a vine in rich soil, and you get vine leaves--in tropical lands, the vine becomes a barren evergreen--in arid soil or shale, it produces nectar.

Firm and compacted as appears the substance of these sand-hills--the sandstone of a future age--it yet retains, to some extent, its shifty and unstable character. At intervals its masses elect to move onwards and to engulf forests over which, for centuries, they have impended. Immediately below where we sit, the ridge terminates, abrupt as a precipice. Two hundred yards beyond, the sloping sand-foot is studded with half-buried pines--several forest monarchs already entombed to their centres, alive, but struggling in their death-throes. Of others, farther back, only the topmost branches protrude, sere, yellow, and dead, from the devouring particles. And beneath those glistening sands, hidden far from sight, doubtless there rest the skeletons of buried forests of bygone days.

Just above us in the peak of the stone-pine under whose shade we enjoy the midday rest, is a huge platform of sticks--a deserted throne of the king of birds. Now this eyrie is deserted, the daylight shows through its centre, and the tree is occupied by different tenants--a pair of Cushats: before now we have seen them share the same tree with the tyrant. Bird-notes are hushed during the midday heat, and silence reigns over the forest: presently from afar comes the strident _kark, kark_ of the Raven, and then from mid-air resounds the musical scream of a Kite floating in the heaven above.

Riding along the open glades, the most conspicuous birds in spring are the brilliant Rollers and Hoopoes, parties of Hawfinches and Crossbills, always shy, an occasional Spotted Cuckoo (_C. glandarius_) or Southern Grey Shrike (_L. meridionalis_); handsome Woodchats (_L._ _rufus_) scold in every bush, and various Finches and Woodpeckers, Tits and Creepers, enliven the woodlands, and sprightly Rufous Warblers the drier plain. Among the cane-brakes and _carices_ that fringe the marshy hollows skulk several other warblers--the Great Sedge and Black-headed Warblers (_S. arundinacea_ and _melanocephala_), Orphean, Cetti's, and the little Fantail, besides our familiar Willow-Wrens, Chiffchaffs, Blackcaps, Redstarts and Robins--the latter resident, and very bright in colour. The Black Redstart has already disappeared (April), but from day to day one sees our British migrants arriving, resting, or passing forward on their northern journey. Swallows especially are conspicuous: to-day the air is alive with them, sweeping along the open glades: to-night they roost in chattering hosts in the trees around our camp--to-morrow they are gone, not a swallow remains: and this occurs a dozen times during April and May.

On April 13th and two following days there occurred a conspicuous "through transit" of Pied Flycatchers, and two days later (in another year) the brushwood was alive with Redstarts, all on passage. On the 25th we were visited for a couple of hours by hundreds of Alpine Swifts: and the same evening the large Red-necked Nightjars (_C. ruficollis_) arrived, to add their churring note to the crepuscular chorus of frogs and night-birds for the rest of the spring and summer. One evening in May, while watching a pair of Golden Orioles to their nest, I witnessed a rather curious eviction. A Spanish Green Woodpecker (_Gecinus sharpii_), her gullet crammed with ants, flew to a hole in a wild-olive, but was met at the entrance by a furious Little Owl (_Athene noctua_), which soon drove the clumsier bird (which had no idea of self-defence) screaming to the shelter of some brushwood. Soon after, her mate returned, but met with a similar reception, the savage little owl perching meanwhile on an adjacent branch, where he sat bolt upright, all fluffed out, and snapping with rage. On examining the place, I found the woodpeckers had a numerous family, nearly ready to fly: while the owl had deposited a single egg in an adjoining hole. The execution of the aggressor seemed, at first, the only means of saving this thriving family, but, on second thoughts, I decided that the justice of the case would be met by removing the defendant's egg, and filling up his hole with sticks.

The Orioles' nest I shortly afterwards discovered, built in a white-elm, at the extreme end of a long pendant branch, the whole of which it was necessary to cut down. This nest, however, was empty. The Golden Orioles do not lay till nearly the middle of May, and from the shyness of the old birds, and the aërial situation of the nest, their eggs are among the most difficult to obtain.

During the early part of May we found many nests of Hoopoes, some in hollow trees, one in a ruined outhouse, which we were using as a stable, and which, in a previous year, had been similarly occupied by a Roller, and always affords a home to two or three pairs of the Spotless or Sardinian Starling (_Sturnus unicolor_), a species which, in spring, replaces the common kind. On the outskirts of the woods were many nests of Goldfinch and Serinfinch, Common and Green Linnets, Blue and Great Tit, Willow-Wren, Woodchat, &c.; and in the open rushy glades, those of Black-headed Warbler, Blackcap and Garden Warbler, Whitethroat, Spotted Flycatcher, Grey-headed Wagtail (_Motacilla cinereocapilla_), and others. I looked in vain in these pine-woods for the Crested Tit, which occurs near Gibraltar, and which my brother found numerous in Navarre. On the 10th May I found a couple of Nightingales' nests in the tiny garden-patch adjoining a forester's cot, and a week later obtained several nests of the Melodious Willow-Warbler (_Hypolais polyglotta_) with their beautiful vinous-pink eggs; later still (May 28th), those of the Rufous Warbler (_Ædon galactodes_) among the cactus-bushes:--but this is getting suspiciously like a catalogue.

One circumstance deserves passing remark--the relatively smaller number of eggs laid in the south than is the case with many of the same species further north. In Spain, several of the warblers, &c. above mentioned, lay only four eggs; the Blackbird, as a rule, but three, and these much brighter coloured than at home.

Delightful days were those spent riding through these pathless forests, redolent of the exhalations of pine and rosemary, and a hundred aromatic shrubs, and resplendent with the glory of the southern spring-time. What words can convey the contrast of dark _pinal_ and dazzling sand-waste, or catch the play of sunlight glancing through massed foliage on russet trunks and the soft pale verdure of the brushwood? For long leagues these forests stretch unbroken save by rushy glades and park-like opens, where at dusk the Red Deer come to seek rich pasturage, and the Wild Boar ploughs deep trenches in his search for succulent roots, varied by a _bonne-bouche_ of mole-crickets.