I.—A Wet Winter: A Record of Difficulties and Disappointments.

The wildfowl-shooting of the Peninsula in favourable seasons and situations is probably equal to any in Europe. But much depends on the place, and everything on the season. There are plenty of provinces and miles of marsh-land where the hardest work is barely rewarded by a pair or two of ducks, or perhaps five couple of snipe, and where many a long day will be registered blank. Then, as just stated, everything depends on the weather. For climatic conditions vary extremely as between one winter and another. Some Spanish winters are dry and rainless; hardly any moisture remaining save in certain favoured spots; and to these sparse green oases throng the aquatic hosts. Here, at such times, come the red-letter days for the fowler.

But Spanish winters are not always dry; on the contrary, it frequently happens that the rains set in in autumn with semi-tropical fury, converting this drainless land into one vast swamp, and inundating the marismas till they grow into inland seas. The difference between a wet and a dry winter is marvellous. We propose in this chapter to describe the somewhat indifferent sport of a wet winter, even in a good locality, together with its effect on the habits and distribution of wildfowl.

At several periods there appeared to offer chances for our four united barrels to realize from twenty-five to thirty head; but our friends would not hear of it, and when at last the signal to open fire was given, the occasion was often less favourable, and the net result little more than half those numbers. Our friends' anxiety for a big shot had perhaps tempted them to overdo the "herding" business; it was, however, a relief to be at last allowed to stand upright. The labour of crouching along, bent half double for an hour at a stretch, splashing through water over knee-deep and in clinging mud, is rather severe. There is, moreover, but scant room for two behind a pony, and the crowding intensifies the discomfort of the bent position. There is the necessity to avoid bringing one's heavy-nailed brogues down on one's companion's naked heels or toes; then again, no part of one's person must show in outline above or astern, and lastly there is the gun. By an axiom of sport, it must never point towards man or beast; to carry it pointing downwards would never do—the muzzle would be a foot under water, and upwards it would show like a pole-mast above the ponies' quarters. The gun, in short, for fifty-nine minutes in every hour, is simply a nuisance.

Though the chief species of ducks against which our operations were directed were the above-named—Pintails and Wigeon—there were several other kinds, notably Shovelers—very handsome birds, the drakes, with their boldly contrasted plumage, glossy green heads and chest-nut breasts divided by a band of snow-white purity. Besides these there were the Mallard and Teal, and others to which we will refer presently.

It was during flight-shooting in the early mornings that the greatest variety of wildfowl was observed, the numbers of Shovelers being especially conspicuous. One morning we particularly remember; we had ridden nearly all night to reach a certain favourite spot before daybreak. Even the pateros were still asleep when, at 2 A.M., we rode up to their solitary choza on the verge of the marsh. However, we were soon in our allotted positions, each on board a tiny lancha, or flat-bottomed punt, far out in the marisma. Towards the dawn a very great number of ducks were on the wing—Mallards, Pintails, Teal, and Wigeon, while from an opposite direction the Shovelers streamed overhead for a couple of hours. These handsome paletones took my fancy, and drew the bulk of my cartridges; but whether they were too high, or the powder, in Spanish phrase, too "cold," the results were certainly not commensurate. In any case it is no easy matter to take fast and high shots when balancing oneself in a cranky punt. A valid excuse was the unusual amount of water. This disadvantage is felt, in wet winters, at every turn; here, in flighting, in the entire absence of covert in which to conceal our punts. Hardly even the tops of the rushes, tamarisk and other bog-plants protruded above the surface. Consequently the high-sided punts loomed far too conspicuous, even in the half-light, causing the fowl to "sky" or to swerve to right or left. Again by reason of the punts being fully afloat (instead of lying on the mud) a difficulty was added to the taking of quick shots, for on any sudden movement of its occupant, the tiny craft lurched almost to the capsizing point. In spite of all this, the double flashes from the adjoining lancha were generally succeeded by one, and often by two, answering splashes in the dark water.

The distribution of the Anatidæ is, in fact, somewhat puzzling. Some species are very regular; others, without apparent cause, are just the reverse. The movements of Pintail, as just stated, are clearly regulated by the state of water in the marshes. Those of Gadwall and Garganey, on the other hand, bear no visible relation to these or other external conditions, but neither of the two last-named are ever abundant. The Garganey, a bird of infinite speed of wing, the first to come in autumn, the last to depart in spring, spends the mid-winter months in Africa; though one morning at dawn (January 31st) four drakes fell to a double shot, and during February we secured many more; but this does not occur every year. The Marbled duck (Q. marmorata), a first cousin of the teal, seldom arrives in time to take part in the wildfowl-shooting; though we have notes of an occasional straggler being recognized amidst the slain as early as February.

Sheld-ducks of both kinds are found at all seasons in the Guadalquivir district, where they remain to breed in spring; the common species in rabbit-or disused badger-holes among the sandhills, the large Ruddy Sheld-duck in low cliffs or barrancos. A few of either species usually fall to our guns while flight-shooting during the winter months.

The geese have particular spots along the shore to which they show a predilection—usually the point of some flat promontory or tongue of land, to which they daily resort. By placing a few decoys before dawn, and lying in wait at these querencias, several shots may be obtained at the "morning flight." The difficulties of wild-goose shooting are, however, proverbial, and these big Grey Lags are, moreover, the hardest and most invulnerable fowl. Yet if the bag is sometimes light, those mornings spent in the marisma will never be regretted, nor the sights and sounds heard during the lonely hours of vigil be forgotten. Within one hundred yards of the damp hole where we lie hidden are three or four separate packs of Grey Lags swimming on the silvery water, while fresh parties constantly keep arriving to join the assemblage, sailing with lowered pinions and cautious croaks towards the fatal decoy.

The geese of the Spanish marismas are principally the Grey Lag (Anser ferus) and the Bean-goose (Anser segetum) in much less numbers. The latter usually flight singly or in small trips; their note is also different—like that of a large gull. The Lesser White-fronted Goose (Anser erythropus of Linnæus), appears also to occur in the marisma. Lord Lilford mentions having observed a single example in company with Grey Lags, and has skins of this small species obtained at Seville. As regards the other European species, there is no evidence of their winter range extending to Southern Spain, though it is possible that stragglers of both the Pink-footed and White-fronted Geese may occasionally do so. Of wild Swans we have only once met with a bunch of four, as elsewhere related, and one of our pateros told us he had killed two or three during an exceptionally severe winter several years ago. He regarded them as extremely unusual, and in fact did not know what they were till he took them to San Lucar for sale.

There was, therefore, no lack of bird-life, though many of the more interesting species were gone. Amidst the feathered population, apparently unnoticing and unnoticed by all, the Marsh-Harriers ceaselessly wheel and drift. After watching them for hours we have never seen them take a bird on the wing, or pursue anything at all, unless wounded. Now and then a harrier would pounce fiercely upon some object—we could not see what—among the rushes, and remain poised on outstretched wings for some minutes, evidently struggling with some victim—perhaps a frog or wounded bird—and then quietly resume his hunting. The Hen-Harrier in dry seasons we frequently observe while snipe-shooting—now, the few seen were all on the dry plains, and not on the marisma.

The carriage of these birds when on the ground is very game-like and sprightly; they sit half-upright, like a pigeon, and on our final (successful) approach we observed several of them lying down on their sides nestling in the warm sand. Their flight resembles that of golden plover, but is bolder, and the narrow black bordering to the under-wing is conspicuous when passing near. At times, when high in air, they might be mistaken for teal. We found them excellent eating; their crops contained small seeds and shoots of the samphire and other bog-plants; their flesh is dark brown throughout (that of Syrrhaptes paradoxus is half white, like a blackcock), and was as tender and well-flavoured as that of a grouse. The Spanish name of "ganga," signifying a bargain, goes to corroborate this opinion.

II.—A Dry Season (Flight-Shooting).

For days the report had reached us of the myriads of aquatic birds that had settled in the marisma. The keepers at the distant Retuerta had passed the word along to those nearer the boundary, and from these the news was transmitted by boatmen to our factotum at San Lucar. Every day the exhortation to come became more and more urgent—"come at once, or in a few days the geese will have devoured every blade of aquatic weed, every green thing that remains, and will perforce be obliged to shift to other quarters." But come we could not. The 29th November was the day previously fixed for opening the campaign, and to cross the Guadalquivir before that date was not possible. Some of our party were coming out by P. and O. to Gibraltar, others by the quicker route of the Sud express. With that malignant perversity of fate that ever seems to snatch from us the realization of one's ideal, we had, this year, fixed the day a week too late.

In such years of drought many of the newly-arrived wildfowl—especially pintails—pass on southwards (into Africa) not to return till February; but numbers crowd into the few places where the precious element—water—still exists. Such a spot is the Retuerta; and along its ten-mile length of tasselled sedge and 30-foot bamboo are concentrated such hosts of wildfowl as seldom entrance the sportsman's eye. In this favoured nook in distant Andalucia let us now live again a few of those eventful days.

The plan of campaign was to line the northern end of the marsh for some five or six miles, placing a gun in each one of certain selected spots. For this purpose, large casks are sunk at intervals, some well hidden among rushes, others in open pools; but in these latter cases the tubs were cunningly concealed by cut tamarisks and other water-plants.

At the end of two hours, the writer left his battery to collect his spoils; a goodly pile of ducks, besides three geese and two flamingoes, though perhaps not in due proportion to the heap of emptied cartridges. About a quarter-mile away lay the shore, to which, during the mid-day interlude, I made my way through water, mud, and matted tamarisk. The nearer strand, where cattle had cropped the rush, was alive with snipe, while amidst the heavier covert beyond, numbers of teal had sought asylum. With these, and passing ducks, there was plenty of employment, and at the end of an hour, when it was necessary to flounder back to the battery, I had exhausted my cartridges and formed sundry piles of slain—in all nineteen ducks, two geese (right and left) and over twenty snipe, besides a bittern and a few "various."

Valiente helada va caer este noche! say the keepers, and verily a terrible frost did fall that night: for when Caraballo awakened us at six in the morning, the poor fellow's teeth chattered, his limbs shook, and he declared that never before had Dios made so cold a morning.

My luck favoured me for once, and by lot, No. 5 was placed by the deeps of "El Jondon," flanked by miles of bamboo and cane-brakes of tropical dimensions. The oozes were covered with ice, at first so thick as almost to bear the horses; but as the water deepened, the ice broke and cut their fetlocks; so we had to seek our posts on foot, dry shot for the first time on record. It fell to me to fire the signal-shot, so I took an opportunity of sending to speedy end just nine teal with the two barrels. I had never before held the luckiest number; to-day I was in the flor and the nata of the fray; it will give some idea of the character of the sport this day that, at times, it was desirable to decline all offers from the duck-tribe, and to reserve one's attention, and cartridges, exclusively for the geese.

The solid ice around my battery lent a novel feature to experiences of wild sport in Spain. The ducks, even heavy mallard and pintail, rebounded from the ice-bound surface; and a goose, falling obliquely, also slid for twenty yards before remaining still. No ducks broke the frozen coverlet; but geese came crashing down through the ice, each making itself a captive in its own chasm. I was soon surrounded by these ice-bound prisoners, bringing down, during the day, over thirty greylags, besides some eighty ducks. Many of these, however, fell in the tall canes and reed-brakes behind, and as we shot till well after dark, it was impossible to gather all—even of the dead. The whole bag, which, had the shooting been uniform, should have been much greater, amounted to 363 ducks and 72 geese, besides snipe and 39 "various."

During wet winters in Spain, when marismas and submerged marshes form miniature seas, the customary methods of wildfowling are no longer of any avail. Opportunities of employing the cabresto are few and far between: while flight-shooting on an area indefinitely extended is profitless and uncertain to the last degree. But the marismas, with their myriads of winter wildfowl, appeared to offer, during such seasons, an exceptional—indeed an ideal field for the use of the gunning-punt, and stanchion-gun.

During the wet winter of 1887-8, when we were constrained helplessly to contemplate floating flotillas, all, in effect, inaccessible to our guns—these tantalizing spectacles urged us to seek "some new thing." A gunning-punt with its artillery appeared to be the one thing needed, and with it, we felt confident that from fifty to a hundred duck might often be secured at a shot. Accordingly, in the autumn of that year (1888), we sent out from England boat, gun, and gear—in short, the complete equipment for "the wildfowler afloat."

The measurements of this "British Armada" were: length over all, 22 feet, breadth of beam, 3 feet 6 inches, by 9 inches depth of hold; her armament a gun of eighty pounds weight, throwing sixteen ounces of shot. Not a very formidable vessel, yet a hostile fleet off Malaga would hardly have aroused more official fuss.

Six or seven months elapsed before these difficulties were smoothed away, as difficulties in Spain, or elsewhere, do dissolve when prudently and properly treated; but the wildfowling season was over, the ducks had disappeared, ere the "Boadicea" was released from official durance and allowed to proceed to the scene of action.

The first obstacle was now surmounted, but a second, and more insuperable difficulty arose, one which forms the real "pith" of the present chapter. From the first our local wildfowlers reported badly of the new craft; her trial cruises were not satisfactory, for, while the pateros experienced no difficulty in approaching the less wary birds, such as flamingoes, herons, and the like, yet ducks of no sort could be outmanœuvred; at any rate not on the open waters. On the return of the ducks in autumn following, the fowlers still reported that they found the large packs wholly inaccessible, nor could they secure more than a paltry half-dozen or so at a shot.

These reports, however, did not disturb us greatly; we attributed the failure of the pateros to lack of experience and technical knowledge in handling the "Boadicea"; for, despite their skill in fowling, the art of working a big gun afloat was one of which they could know nothing. It was, therefore, with unabated confidence that the writer embarked on board the trim, light craft, and shoved off on his first Spanish punt-gunning campaign.

Gradually we stole round the flank of the ducks—a long way off, for it was necessary to save the wind and get to leeward. In this we succeeded, and there now only remained between us and the black streak that represented thousands of keen eyes, some 300 yards of open water: surely no very formidable obstacle with a well-handled craft. So we thought, and so a fair experience of ducks and their ways at home justified us in thinking. Alas! for misplaced confidence: hardly had our bows shot clear of the last sheltering fringe of rush than the nearer birds began to rise, and spread the alarm through the deep ranks beyond. Quickly the danger-signal was communicated to the furthest outposts: the roar of wings increased, and in a few seconds the whole mass lifted off the water as one might lift a carpet by the corner—not a living thing remained afloat, while the heavens grew dark with quivering pinions and gyrating clouds, and resonant with a babel of bird-music.

Thus ended the first attempt in conspicuous failure; and a second, third, and fourth shared a like fate: we were never within measurable distance of succeeding, and began to realize that what our native fowlers had reported was only too near the truth. It is fair to add that Vasquez's handling of the punt, after a few preliminary trials, left little to be desired; his aptitude for the new work was surprising. He held a capital course, steered accurately to signal, and got a "way" on the boat that would have satisfied Hawker.

Harriers are so numerous in the open marisma that four or five may often be seen at once, slowly drifting about over the waste, and marvellous is the speed with which they detect a disabled fowl. With a lively cripple, it is often a race between the human and the feathered raptor for rights of possession, and in flight-shooting the wounded are carried off under one's very eyes.

After another cabresto-shot, which added ten wigeon to the bag, we reached the broad Arroyo de la Madre, which was "paved" with wildfowl in numbers that we cannot estimate. Mere numerals convey nothing—unless it be a suspicion of exaggeration—and any other attempt would only involve the use of inadmissible superlatives. Suffice to say that for leagues that broad water was a living carpet of birds. We now entrusted our fortunes to the "Boadicea" and her big gun. The boat lay near the junction of a creek with the main channel; the nearer water was dotted with teal, garganey, and wigeon; a little further off, the white livery of the shovelers was conspicuous, and beyond again, with the glasses, we could distinguish, among acres of wigeon, a sprinkling of pintails, gadwall, and a few white-eyed pochard and mallard. On the slob-land in front, fed nine spoonbills; a small herd of flamingoes on the left, and near them a grey line of geese, whose sonorous clamour was distinguishable above the medley of bird-notes. Ducks, however, of all kinds are silent enough by day.

Towards evening we observed flights of duck—chiefly wigeon—pouring in constant streams towards some low mud-islets which afforded cover for approach. Behind these we lay for an hour, awaiting the gloaming, but the short southern twilight proved a serious obstacle. In the few minutes occupied in "shoving out" from our shelter towards the floating phalanxes in front (we had awaited the last possible moment) the light had disappeared, and it became impossible to distinguish objects on the water, though those in air were yet clear enough. There were, we knew, hundreds of ducks before the gun; but the shot—like nine-tenths of those fired at haphazard—was a failure. Fifteen wigeon and two pintails lay dead; the cripples, if any, it was impossible to recover in the gloom; and we sadly started to "pole" the long leagues homewards, reflecting on the singular uncertainty of sports mundane.

This day thus realized 42 ducks—17 to the punt and 25 to the cabresto: though, had we followed the latter system alone, the total would have been much heavier, while every available chance was given to the punt-gun, which never, until after dark, produced a feather.