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]
Plate XXXI. SAND-DUNES AND CORRALES OF DOÑANA. Page 245.
Plate XXXI. SAND-DUNES AND CORRALES OF DOÑANA. Page 245.
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.
HOOPOES.
HOOPOES.
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.
Leaving the pinal, or pine region, let us spend a fortnight in the open bush-land beyond. Passing successively the famous manchas of the Alameda Honda, the Rincon de los Carrizos, and Majáda Real—each coverts of repute, though all unknown to geographers and marked upon no map—we traverse next the forest-glades of the Angosturas, and enter upon a different region, where fresh landscapes and new beauties await appreciative eyes. Here the swelling sand-dunes trend away southwards—towards the sea. The dark bushy pine gives place to open heath and brushwood, stretching away to the horizon, here and there diversified with scattered clumps of cork-oak, aspen, wild-olive, and poplar.
The country around our quarters is a level plain of evergreen scrub—lentiscus, broom, heaths of varied kinds, and mile upon mile of sombre grey-green cistus, generally about shoulder-high, but deepening in places into impassable jungle. Here and there are stagnant pools, around whose banks grow immense cork-oaks, embedded amidst tree-heath (Erica arborea), giant heather and arbutus, all interlaced with the twining, thorny fronds of briar. It is in these dank, dark depths that the old boars select their lairs, and they are the home of Lynx and Wild-Cat, Badger, Genet, and Mongoose, and of many interesting birds, from the Eagle to the Turtledove. The following record of some of our spring rambles will give an outline of the fauna of this region:—
A SERENADE.
A SERENADE.
April 15th.—We were astir early, a few stars shining dimly, and the last of the frogs still croaking in the acequias, as we sipped our matutinal chocolate upon the verandah;
βρεκεκεκἑ κοἁξ κοἁξ, βρεκεκεκἑ κοἁξ κοἁξ, |
repeat the frogs, as in the Stygian chorus of old. Far away over the half-lit expanse of cistus a pair of large eagles were already hunting for their breakfast, and an owl slipped close overhead and disappeared into a crevice of the roof above, where we could hear the snoring and snapping of the strigine community as the night's booty was being discussed. We were away by sunrise, at which hour the singular, resonant song of the Partridge-cocks (Red-legs) was ubiquitous: from almost every ilex-grove came the half-choking chukàr, chukàr, while the love-sick bird bowed and gesticulated, standing nearly bolt upright with half-expanded wings on some dead branch or shattered trunk, sometimes on the crest of a sand-ridge.[53]
Within a quarter-mile of the lodge we found a Kite's nest, shot the old bird, replaced her two eggs with two hen's eggs and a steel-trap: and had hardly ridden two hundred yards ere the male swept down and was caught. Seldom are so fine a pair of birds secured so easily! During this day we found no fewer than six nests, for the Kite, as before stated, prefers the open country to the forest, and almost each clump of cork-trees was tenanted by a pair. These cork-groves are also occupied by many other species—by birds of plumage whose resplendent hues appear almost tropical—such as Golden Oriole, Roller, Bee-eater, Hoopoes, Woodpeckers, Azure-winged Magpie, and others hardly less brilliant. Amid the ilex-groves the Golden Oriole hangs suspended, hovering like a Kestrel in mid-air, his rich orange lustre justifying the Spanish name—oropendola: the Roller, clad in chestnut and azure, and rich parti-coloured Hoopoes and Pied Woodpeckers flit among the foliage. Presently a harsh "chack, chack" announces the arrival of a wandering party of Bee-eaters, most brilliant of European birds; and a score of these sweep round, alternately rising and poising, or soaring on clean-cut, hawk-like wing, then darting downwards amidst the masses of flowering heaths in pursuit of industrious aphidæ. The Bee-eaters pass on: but there is no truce for the insect-world, for other deadly enemies, the Woodchat and Southern Grey Shrike, sit by on every bush, intent on impaling heavy-flying bee or beetle. From the alcornoques there resounds the shrieking maniacal laughter of the flame-coloured Spanish Woodpecker (Gecinus sharpii) as he flies heavily from tree to tree with rustling, undulated flight: then there is an occasional Azure-winged Magpie (Cyanopica cookii), there are Wood-Pigeons and Turtle-Doves, Spotted Cuckoos, and Magpies in swarms. The cavernous trunks are occupied by colonies of Jackdaws, less hoary-naped than ours, the lesser crevices by Hoopoes, Scop's and Little Owls.
Nearly all the brilliantly-plumaged birds which at this season lend a semi-tropical character to the Spanish avi-fauna, are spring-migrants—pouring across the straits during the months of March and April, and retiring to African latitudes in autumn. Here is a brief record, showing dates of arrival, &c., chiefly from the observations of one year (1891), but supplemented where necessary by those of previous springs, with a few incidental notes.
February 21st.—Many Swallows arrived: in thousands on 23rd—a complete nuisance while snipe-shooting. On February 28th some were already beginning to nest.
February 26th.—A single Hoopoe arrived: numerous by 3rd March. Also observed a Goshawk.
February 28th.—A pair of Egyptian Vultures, and many Lesser Kestrels were seen to-day.
March 1st.—Great Spotted Cuckoo, and a single Wheat-ear appeared. Many of the Wigeon and other ducks, and all Golden Plovers are now gone. Shot four Garganey.
March 8th.—First Serpent-Eagle (two more on 10th), and many Black Kites, in pinales. The White Wagtails entirely disappeared about this date. Landrail shot.
March 10th.—Hundreds of Wood-Pigeons—all gone next day. Shot a pair of Black Storks (1869).
March 13th.—Last Woodcock. Not one-fifth of the ducks now remain in marisma.
March 19th.—Shot Scop's Owl in garden at Jerez.
March 20th.—Observed Kentish and Lesser Ring Plovers, and shot Purple Heron. Flights of Cranes passing north.
March 24th.—Observed Short-toed Larks, and Spotless Starling; Black-headed Gulls still here, in full breeding-plumage. Ruff and Black-tailed Godwits shot to-day.
March 26th.—Ring-Ouzel (Sierra Bermeja), and in same district, Booted Eagle on 29th, Woodchat 30th, and Rock-Thrush on April 3rd.
March 30th (1883).—Woodchats: and first Cuckoo heard in garden. Starlings, Thrushes and Sky-larks have all gone.
March 31st (1872).—Swarms of Bee-eaters, Eared and Russet Wheatears, and two or three Rollers.
March 31st (1891).—While away in sierra, the following birds have appeared: Savi's, Spectacled, and Subalpine Warblers (all obtained), Cirl-Buntings, Swifts.
April 3rd.—Nightingales in garden. They do not sing for the first few days. First eggs laid May 7th.
April 6th.—Montagu's Harrier arrived (the last Hen-Harrier shot on 10th). Demoiselle Crane shot.
April 8th.—Turtle-Doves in small flights, and many Bee-eaters and Rollers arrived. Last Snipe shot to-day.
April 9th.—Pratincoles, Whiskered and Lesser Terns.
April 10th.—Pair Marbled Ducks, one Nyroca Pochard, and an Egret shot. Observed White-faced Ducks.
April 16th.—Glossy Ibis—Zopiton.
April 20th.—The following have arrived within the last week or ten days. Great Sedge Warbler, Orphœan and Garden Warblers, Whitethroat, Ortolan, and Golden Orioles—the latter seen first to-day.
April 23rd.—Pair Hobbies observed—pinales.
April 25th.—Alpine Swifts passing over.
April 27th.—Shot Buff-backed Heron, Isla Menor: and found Bittern's nest with three eggs; also two of the Great Bustard, each with two eggs.
April 28th.—Night-Herons observed—marisma Gallega.
April 29th.—Rufous Warblers (Ædon galactodes) arrived in hundreds. On same date Honey-Buzzards passing northwards, flying quite low against a north-easterly gale, in large bands. A friend, shooting Turtle-Doves in the pinales of San Fernando, killed six. These Buzzards pass yearly in hundreds (both adults and immature), on one or two days at this period, but usually fly very high.
April 30th.—Shot the first Russet-necked Nightjar and observed Melodious Willow-Warblers (Hypolais polyglotta). Enormous passage of Swallows to-day. This is also the date when the Little Bittern and Squacco Heron are due.
May 3rd.—Black Terns appeared. The only other nesting species yet to arrive are the Spotted Flycatcher, Pallid Warbler (Hypolais opaca), and the remainder of the Nightjars, Rufous Warblers, &c.
May 4th.—Camp in mid-marisma. All this night, commencing about 10 P.M., a stream of migrating birds kept passing overhead. From the dark sky resounded for hours the cries of gulls and terns, sundry small land-birds, whimbrels, plovers and sandpipers of various species: besides harsher shrieks and notes that resembled those of hawks and herons of some kind.
Amidst such wealth of bird-life lies work for many spring-visits. The nesting-season, moreover (the most interesting period to the ornithologist), extends over a greater period of time than is the case at home. In Spain, with its early spring and warm equable climate, it might be supposed that most birds would nest both early and more or less simultaneously. But this is not the case. The period of reproduction, with birds, appears to be prolonged proportionately as one approaches the equator. In the far north, where summer is short and sharply defined, this period is the same. Thus in the arctic lands of Spitsbergen and Novaya Zemlya, it is limited to six weeks, and in Lapland and Siberia to two months or so, extending in Central Europe, roughly speaking, to three. In Andalucia domestic duties last, with one species or another, over half the year. There are cases in which nidification commences before Christmas—as with the Lammergeyer, Bonelli's Eagle, and the Eagle-Owl: the Griffon Vultures and some others are only a little later. Whereas, on the other hand, some of the herons do not nest till June: Ædon galactodes and the Little Bustard are still incubating in July, and the Flamingoes breed so late that their young can hardly be on the wing before the latter month.
Among the earlier breeders is the Spanish Green Woodpecker, which drills deep holes in the hard wood of cork-oak or olive, and lays six shining white eggs in March. Now (April) they had young, but rear a second brood in May. Though they are so abundant, yet the "tapping" sound characteristic of the Woodpeckers is not heard in the Spanish forests, for their food consists of ants and of the small, red and black beetles that cluster in every crevice of the rough cork-bark.
The Rollers were also laying in mid-April—here in hollow trees, elsewhere in crevices of rocks or ruins: but wherever their treasure may be, the silly birds are sure to disclose its position by their incessant "caterwauling," and anxious, tumbling flight. On the 17th April we found the first nest of the Southern Grey Shrike (Lanius meridionalis) in a high mastic-bush. The nest resembled that of the Missel-Thrush, the five eggs larger and more darkly marbled than those of the northern L. excubitor. Nests of the Woodchat (L. rufus) may be found in almost every bush from May 10th onward, and the Bee-eaters have then formed swarming colonies in the river-banks like Sand-Martins.
As remarkable a freak as any in nature is the system of reproduction by proxy adopted by the Great Spotted Cuckoo (Coccystes glandarius). This smart and handsome bird, though more abundant in Estremadura and the Castiles, is fairly numerous on the wooded prairies of Andalucia, where its curious nesting habits may be observed with ease. The parasitic habits of the European Cuculidæ are well known—none of these birds building a nest or rearing their own young. Our British Cuckoo deposits its eggs singly in the nests of hedge-sparrow, warbler, wagtail, or other small bird—it is not particular which. The Spotted Cuckoo, however, does not impose this duty of rearing her young upon her neighbours generally, but almost exclusively upon the common Magpie: though exceptionally upon the Azure-winged species (Cyanopica cookii) and the Raven as well. At the Encinar del Visco, during the past year (1891), the writer found two of the Cuckoo's eggs in a nest of that bird, along with three eggs (one broken) of the owner.[54]
The Spotted Cuckoo, moreover, lays eggs so exactly resembling those of the selected foster-mother (the Magpie) as to be hardly distinguishable. On close examination, it is true, they do differ in their more ellipitic form and granular surface: but, unless previously aware and specially on the look-out, no one, probably, would suspect they were not Magpie's eggs—apparently not even that cute bird itself does so. Even so experienced an ornithologist as Canon Tristram failed to discriminate the difference—this was in Algeria—till the zygo-dactylic foot of the embryos betrayed the secret (Ibis, 1859).
The Spotted Cuckoo deposits two, three, and even four eggs in the same Magpie's nest—sometimes leaving the original owner's eggs undisturbed, in other cases removing all or part of them: we have noticed spilt yolk and the shells of broken eggs at the entrance to the nest and on the branches below. Hatched thus, in the domed and enclosed nests of the Magpie, it seems difficult for the young Spotted Cuckoos to eject their pseudo-brothers and sisters; but we cannot speak definitely as to this detail in the early life-history of these curious usurpers of hearth and home.
The only egg of the Common Cuckoo we have ever found in Spain was in a nest of the Stonechat. This was on April 23rd, and there were four eggs of the Stonechat. The Cuckoo is common in Spain on passage, arriving early in April; a few remain to breed, and we have heard their note up to the end of May, but the majority pass on northwards at once.
The Azure-winged Magpie, above referred to, is very local in the south. It nests not far from Jerez, and in some numbers near Coria del Rio, but is much more abundant in the wooded vegas of Cordova, and still more so in Estremadura and Castile, actually swarming near Talavera de la Reyna, at Aranjuez, etc. Their nests, placed on bushes rather than trees, resemble a Jay's, slightly built of sticks exteriorly, and completed with green moss, dry grass, etc., and contain five or six eggs. Half-a-dozen nests may often be found within a hundred yards. An active, sprightly bird, exclusively confined to the Spanish Peninsula.
AZURE-WINGED MAGPIES.
AZURE-WINGED MAGPIES.
The Jay, though common in the mountain-forests, and in Portugal, is not seen on the South-Spanish plains; but the Magpie absolutely swarms. During lunch one day I counted upwards of seventy in sight at a time, and from one spot. A rushy glade before us was dotted all over with them; their pied breasts surmounted nearly every bush. Further away, I also counted during the half-hour's halt (without including such small fry as Kestrels, etc.) no less than twenty-one large birds of prey—several Kites of both kinds, a soaring Buzzard or two, Marsh-and Montagu's Harriers, and at least a pair of eagles.
Such a spectacle would probably break the heart of an orthodox British gamekeeper; to preserve any fair head of game in presence of such an array of "vermin"—both powerful raptores and cunning egg-thieves—he would certainly assert to be impossible. So, in England, it probably would be; yet here our game-books record bags varying from 150 to 300 partridge, besides other game, in a day, and totals of from 1,000 to 1,200 head and upwards in a fortnight's shooting. Yet those who advocate the status quo in nature and condemn dogmatically any interference therewith by the hand of man, would be wrong in jumping to the conclusion that the co-existence in Spain of a considerable head of game with a host of their most powerful enemies, is any solid substantiation of their theories, in a general sense.
To this question of nature's balance of life we may devote a little space; it is seldom so simple as at first sight may appear. Here in Spain its solution depends on factors some of which do not exist and would have, consequently, no bearing at home; but the general features of the particular case in point may be summed up in three lines: (1) Spain is a land teeming with reptile-life; (2) The reptiles in the aggregate are the most deadly enemies to game; and (3) it is upon reptiles that the raptorial birds habitually prey.
The large eagles, it is true, prefer rabbits and partridges to anything else; but the "catch" of their smaller relatives, the Booted and Serpent-Eagles, the Kites, Buzzards and Hawks, is composed chiefly of reptiles—lizards, snakes, blindworms, salamanders, and the like—as well as the larger insects, such as locusts, cicadas, scorpions, grasshoppers, the huge horned scarabæi and other coleoptera of which so great a variety abound in Southern Spain. At the end of this chapter we annex a brief analysis, the result of a number of post-mortem examinations of the crops and stomachs of various raptorial birds, which shows pretty conclusively that while game, etc., is included in their menu, by far the greater portion of their attack is directed against the reptile race—itself the most pernicious to game and all the defenceless creation. It is, in fact, a warfare of raptor versus raptorem, of feathered freebooter against scaled marauder, and the harmless and peaceful balance of creation benefit by that internecine state of war.
EYED-LIZARD AND SERPENT-EAGLE
EYED-LIZARD AND SERPENT-EAGLE
The destruction that is wrought by the larger reptiles is difficult to exaggerate; both snakes and lizards are inveterate egg-stealers, and also devour large quantities of young game, whether furred or feathered, besides other creatures. Gliding noiselessly, rapidly, and with an infinite stealth, their approach is imperceptible, whether through brushwood or scrub, through shallow water or yielding sand, whether above ground or below—they penetrate the deep burrows of rabbit or Bee-eater, and scale the loftiest fortresses of tree-nesting species. Equally at home on the ground or amongst the topmost branches, nothing can well escape the larger serpents and saurians. Were they not held in check by nature's counterpoise, hardly a young rabbit could survive, or a Partridge, Quail, or Wild Duck succeed in rearing their broods. Neither ground nor tree-nesting birds are safe: we have seen a Cushat's nest which in the morning had contained its two eggs, occupied towards evening by the sleeping coils of a green Eyed Lizard (Lacerta ocellata), measuring nearly a yard in length, and thousands of promising families are yearly called into existence only to provide sustenance for cold-blooded, scaly saurians.
Here are three or four examples extracted from our note-book:—
"April 23rd.—While on the sand-ridge overlooking the laguna de Santolalla, watching a pair of Marbled Ducks, some Crested Grebes, etc., heard subterranean scuffling and rumblings. Presently two rabbits bolted, and from a hole close by emerged the writhing tail of a great green lizard, backing out, and dragging, by an engulfed hind leg, a half-grown rabbit, too terrified to squeal. In some rushes we lost sight of the reptile, but two minutes later, put him out and shot him. The hapless rabbit was then gorged—head downwards."
"May 18th.—Dug out a Bee-eater's colony—some of the tunnels quite eight or ten feet deep. In two of the nests found snakes, coiled up. One big black fellow entombed the remains of four or five Bee-eaters, swallowed entire, besides many eggs. The smaller snake contained eggs and a brace of Field-mice."
"May 23rd.—Heard two Partridges in a great state of excitement; coming up, saw a snake in the act of devouring a half-feathered chick. The brute, which only measured three feet, nine inches, already contained four young Partridges!"
"June 9th.—Shot a huge Coluber, six feet two inches, greatly distended in centre. On opening him found two nearly full-grown rabbits, swallowed whole."
Under such conditions, the presence of the hawk-tribe is an actual advantage to the game-preserver—they are his under-keepers and vermin-trappers. No doubt, were it possible, first, to put down effectually the rapacious reptiles, and then to thin the ranks of the rapacious birds, the result would be a prodigious increase in the numbers of the game and other defenceless creatures on which they prey. This—mutatis mutandis—is practically what game-preservation has accomplished in England; but in Spain the physical conditions are different, and it is more than questionable if any similar measure of success could there be attained. Not Don Quixote himself ever conceived an enterprise more chimerical than the extermination of the snakes in La Mancha or Andalucia.
THE EAGLE'S SWOOP.
THE EAGLE'S SWOOP.
With the first of the daylight the eagles and most of the larger raptores turn out for their morning hunt, and during the heat of the day retire to enjoy a siesta on the peak of some lofty oak or pine, where they remain conspicuously perched for hours together. Towards evening predatory operations are generally resumed. It is curious to observe their different methods of going to work; the Kites sweep about with buoyant, desultory flight, not unlike large gulls; the Circäetus wheels in wide circles over the cistus-scrub; Montagu's Harrier hunts with impetuous flight, in long, straight bee-lines close over the mancha, always appearing about to alight but not doing so. But for systematic searching-out of a breadth of land, none compare with the Imperial Eagle; usually in pairs, these noble tyrants choose a line of country, and with wide sweeps to right and left, crossing and recrossing each other at the central point like well-trained setters, they beat miles of scrub in a few hours, while a Buzzard or Marsh-Harrier will hover and circle round a single spot and spend half a day over a few acres of rushes. Nothing can well escape the eagles; shortly one of the pair detects the hidden game—for an instant his flight is checked to assure a deadly aim, then with collapsed wings, and a rushing sound which is distinctly audible a quarter of a mile away, he dashes headlong to earth. A second or two later, he rises with loud vociferations, and a hapless rabbit suspended from his yellow claws. Their short, sharp bark is repeatedly uttered by the eagles while hunting. Rabbits seem to constitute nine-tenths of their prey, to judge from the golgotha of these little animals' skulls below their nests.
The Stone-Curlew (Œdicnemus crepitans) is another fine species characteristic of the scrub, where it is resident or at least is found throughout the year, and their rectilineal footprints are everywhere visible on the sandy deserts. On these flat plains they are most difficult of access, and if winged, run like a hare; towards evening they become very noisy, piping something like a Curlew in spring—on the night of April 16th, while skinning a lynx by the light of our fire, the air around seemed full of them, their vociferations resounding from every side. We found the first nest, or rather a single egg lying on bare sand, on April 18th. We have come across these birds in widely different situations; high out on the barren stony mountains of the Minho, in Northern Portugal, packs of them frequented the few damp spots along the courses of the old Roman aqueducts—how few such weak spots were, testifies to the solidity of these ancient works. This was in November. Their local name there was "Mountain Curlew" (Masarico de montes). Apropos of these hills, the following rather curious incidents are perhaps worth recording. Far out among the boulder-strewn ridges, while Red-leg shooting, we used to find numbers of Green Woodpeckers miles away from trees—they were attracted thither by the swarms of ants. Nightjars (Caprimulgus europæus) and Little Owls also abode there; the latter fluttered out from under one's feet, and after a most un-owlish, up-and-down flight, would dive back under some big boulder, more like a fish than a bird. Small flights of Teal also resorted to these heights during the day, sitting among the heather, and returning to the marshes at night.
Food of Spanish Raptorial Birds—Analyses of examinations of their crops—as follows:—
(See p. 259.)
| Kites examined, 21. | ||
| Snakes, Lizards, Blindworms, &c. | 9 | cases. |
| Locusts, elytra of coleoptera, &c. | 9 | " |
| Bones and remains of small birds | 5 | " |
| Rabbits and young Redlegs (1 each) | 2 | " |
| Egg-shells | 0 | " |
| Note.—We have shot Black Kites fairly crammed with Locusts. | ||
| Harriers examined, 17. | ||
| Frogs, Snakes and other reptiles | 8 | cases. |
| Egg-shells | 7 | " |
| Scorpions, coleoptera and other insects | 3 | " |
| Game (1 Quail, 1 young and 1 putrid rabbit) | 3 | " |
| The Marsh-Harrier in spring seeks frogs, eggs, and young birds; in winter, frogs, wounded birds, and chance reptiles. Montagu's Harrier takes chiefly the lesser reptiles and eggs—occasionally rabbits—and departs entirely in winter. | ||
| Large Eagles examined, 8. | ||
| Rabbits, Partridge, &c. | 8 | cases. |
| Reptiles, eggs, or insects | 0 | " |
| Small Eagles examined, 10. | ||
| Rabbits and other game | 4 | cases. |
| Reptiles (no eggs or insects) | 4 | " |
| Small birds | 3 | " |
| Sundries (1 young eagle! See p. 215) | 1 | " |
The large eagles prey on game all the year round; the smaller species chiefly on reptiles and small birds, secondarily on game. In winter the latter depart to Africa.
Falcons.—The smaller species are chiefly insectivorous—the Lesser Kestrel and Eleanora Falcon exclusively so. The Common Kestrel and Hobby also take small lizards and snakes. From the crop of one of the large and powerful Falcons (Falco punicus) which, when shot, was in the act of pursuing a Hare, we have taken nearly a score of Blindworms.
It is corroborative of the predominance of reptiles and insects in their diet, that so many of the raptores leave Spain almost entirely in winter. Both the Booted and Serpent-Eagles, Black Kite, Montagu's Harrier, Lesser Kestrel, and others, migrate at that season to Africa.
BLACK STORK.
BLACK STORK.
Spain is not a land of lakes; the so-called lagoons are often mere accumulations of flood-water, the result of the winter's rains which occupy shallow basins, or swamp the low-lying lands. Many of these hybernal lagoons dry up entirely as the hot weather sets in; others remain in greatly reduced proportions, hidden, as a rule, amidst reeds and dense aquatic herbage.
Few Spanish lakes cover any considerable area, though the Lagunas de Janda, near Trafalgar, those of Fuentepiedra near Malaga, and the Albufera of Valencia, are exceptions.
The Laguna de Janda, an inland sea of yellow muddy water, surrounded by belts of sedge and cane-brake stretching away for miles, is a well-known wildfowl resort, abounding in winter with Grey Geese, ducks, and divers of many kinds, besides Snipe, Rails, Bitterns, and aquatic birds in all their varieties. The dry plateaux on the north are a notable resort of Little Bustard; and large bags of Quail and Golden Plover are there, at times, secured. But this is well-known ground, and having been described by others, we will only add that in spring Janda is noteworthy as one of the breeding-stations of the Crane (Grus communis), which still nests in some numbers amidst the vast area of reed-beds and thick swamp that lie towards Casa Vieja.
The nests of the Crane are huge accumulations of flags and aquatic plants built up in the shallow marsh, and hidden amidst the growing reeds, which in spring completely conceal the water. The Crane lays two handsome eggs, greenish in hue, but suffused with brown splashes and obsolete shades, about the end of April. Formerly the Crane used also to breed in the marismas of the Guadalquivir, but we have not met with it there of recent years, and fear it is already banished for ever from that resort. It may sincerely be hoped that these majestic waterfowl, whose stately appearance and resonant trumpet-note lend so peculiar a charm to the wild solitudes they frequent, may meet with more considerate treatment in their last stronghold at Janda.
Of the Mar Menor of Cartagena, the Albufera of Valencia, and other noteworthy wildfowl resorts lying outside our limits, we can speak with less certainty, not having had such opportunities of exploration as in the districts to the S. and W. The Albufera appears to be the western limit of the range of the handsome Red-crested Pochard (Fuligula rufina), a duck we have sought in vain in Andalucia; but with this exception, and that of a few stragglers, such as Hydrochelidon leucoptera and other species of more Eastern distribution, the spring avifauna of these localities does not materially differ from that of the more western marismas and lagoons described either in the present chapter or in those entitled "The Bætican Wilderness."
The lakes of Doñana are of no great extent, the largest being the Lagunas de Santolalla, and the broad, reed-choked Rocina de la Madre extending towards Rocio, all of which we have explored at different seasons.
Riding towards the small lagoon of Zopiton on April 16th, its surface was seen to be dotted all over with waterfowl—ducks and divers, coots and grebes. Zopiton is a deep, reed-fringed pool where we have often looked in vain for Fuligula rufina. On our approach, several Mallards and Gadwall flew up: I shot a Gadwall drake from horseback, whereupon there was commotion among the denizens of that sequestered lagoon—ducks rose splashing and quacking on all sides, coots "skittered" across the surface, grebes vanished amidst sedges, whence a Marsh-Harrier soared from her nest. Among the ducks which whistled around and overhead were many of a small dark species unknown to us. These appeared loth to leave, and after the others had disappeared, continued circling round, high in the air, with rapid rustling flight like that of a Golden-eye. By creeping out to a rush-clad point we lay concealed between sedges and a thicket of briar, and here soon shot several of these ducks, as well as Mallard, Garganey, and another Gadwall or two. The unknown birds proved to be the White-eyed Pochard, or Ferruginous Duck (Fuligula nyroca) which evidently intended to breed here, though a search for their nests proved futile. A month later, however (in May), we obtained nests both of this Pochard and of the Gadwall, both built among rushes on dry ground. The Gadwall—inappropriately termed in Spanish "Silbon real" (i.e. king-wigeon, or whistler)—is a very silent duck, and always seen in pairs. In May we found them singly, those shot then being all drakes rising from small sedgy pools.
The Garganey are fairly numerous on these lagoons in spring; yet though—especially in wet seasons—they certainly breed there, we have never discovered a nest. The marshmen (who know the different kinds of duck as well as most people) assert positively that in very wet springs a few pairs of the Common Teal also remain to breed.
Plate XXXII. MALLARDS AND FERRUGINOUS DUCKS—ALAMILLO. Page 268.
Plate XXXII. MALLARDS AND FERRUGINOUS DUCKS—ALAMILLO. Page 268.
Among the tall juncales, or reed-beds, in mid-water, abode numerous aquatic warblers—notably the Great Sedge-Warbler, Cetti's, and the Reed-Warbler, the loud grating song of the former is incessant: but owing to the depth of water and mud, and the maze of rank weeds, such spots are difficult to explore. The Melodious Warbler (Hypolais polyglotta) nests on bushes and sallows on the drier ground: while the little Fantails (Cisticola) build their pretty purse-shaped nests on the shorter rushes along the margin. A peculiarity of this tiny bird is that it lays eggs of wholly different colours—though not in the same nest—some clutches being pale green, some blue, others of a soft rose-colour, a few pure white. The elaborate way in which the nest itself is compacted of intertwined grasses and laced on to a tuft of rush is no less remarkable. Its Spanish name is Bolsicon—a little purse, and the species remains all the winter. Among the tall carices, floating in about three feet of water, was the nest of the Marsh-Harrier: it resembled that of a Coot, and had, perhaps, been built originally by that bird, many of which bred there.
While driving the ducks, five birds of peculiar appearance flew over—they were Glossy Ibis, and passed within shot of Felipe, who, however, failed to stop them. This was the only instance of our meeting with the Ibis—a singular circumstance, as in wet seasons they nest in numbers in the upper marisma. Their deep blue eggs have several times been brought to us while bustard-shooting on the Isla Menor, &c., the boys who brought them saying the nests were in the thick cañas, and not on low trees, where the small herons breed. Very curiously, in all the time we spent in the marisma, we never again saw this bird in spring, or found a single nest ourselves.
A ride of a few miles from Zopiton across the sandy heath-land brings us to the larger lagunas de Santolalla, where numerous wildfowl assemble in spring. Besides Mallards, Gadwalls, and Ferruginous Ducks, already described, were many Pintails, Garganeys, Teal, and the pretty Marbled Duck—(Querquedula marmorata). The latter nests at Santolalla at the end of May: but more numerously in the open marisma, laying ten or twelve eggs, well hidden among the clumps of samphire. Some of the Pintails (which are the most abundant of the winter wildfowl) linger late in spring: for on May 8th we observed a "bunch" of a dozen or so at Santolalla, all drakes, their snow-white throats glistening in the sunshine. Near them a pair of Shoveller drakes were swimming, and presently the binocular rested on six of the most extraordinary wildfowl we ever met with—gambolling and splashing about on the water, chasing each other, now above now beneath its surface like a school of porpoises, they appeared half birds, half water-tortoises, with which the lagoon abounds. We were well sheltered by a fringe of sedges, and presently the strangers entered a small reed-margined bight, swimming very deep, only their turtle-shaped backs and heavy heads in sight. Here we crept down on them, and as they sat, splashing and preening in the shallow water, stopped three—two dead, the third escaping, winged. They proved to be a duck and drake of the White-fronted Duck—Erismatura mersa—heavily built diving-ducks, round in the back, broad and flat in the chest, with small wings like a Grebe, and long, stiff tails like a Cormorant—the latter, being carried underwater as a rudder, is not visible when the bird is swimming. The enormously swollen bill of the drake—pale waxen blue in colour—completed as singular a picture of a feathered fowl as the writer ever came across: they were in fact no less remarkable in form and colour, now we had them in hand, than they had at first appeared in the water. The head and neck of the drake were jet black, with white face and cheeks: otherwise their whole plumage was dark ferruginous (not white below, as represented in "Bree") and with a silky, grebe-like sheen.
These singular ducks, we found, were well known to the guardas as "patos porrones" (porron—a knob), and subsequently found several pairs at the Laguna de Medina, a lake near Jerez, where, on the 23rd May, they were evidently breeding. The lake was also occupied "by numbers of the Great Crested Grebe (Podicipes cristatus), quaint-looking birds in their full summer-dress. The nests of the Little Grebe may be found floating in every rushy pool.
Plate XXXIII. WHITE-FRONTED DUCK (ERISMATURA MERSA)—Santolalla, May 8th, 1883. Page 270.
Plate XXXIII. WHITE-FRONTED DUCK (ERISMATURA MERSA)—Santolalla, May 8th, 1883. Page 270.
The width of the lagoon would barely exceed half-a-mile; its shores all furrowed by wild boar in their search for grillos, or mole-crickets, and dotted with the skeletons of water-tortoises, and beyond its glancing waters rolled stretches of grey scrub and heath, backed in the distance by sand-dunes and corrales, the outliers of the desolate arenales that extend to the sea-coast. Beneath a straggling belt of pines there were sheltering from the mid-day heat a group of wild-bred cattle; and a little apart stood three or four big bulls of the fighting breed:—formidable beasts that demand a wide berth. More shaggy cattle, knee-deep in water, were dreamily ruminating, each form surmounted by a white bird, the Buff-backed Heron—in Spanish Agarrapatosa or tick-eater—some apparently asleep, others busily searching for prey. Nearer still, among the islanded patches of sedge and carices, stalked a pair of Little Egrets, their long, thin necks arched with infinite grace, and heads poised to strike with deadly precision any darting larvæ or water-beetle they detect among the floating weeds.
The heron-tribe is strongly represented in Andalucia; in spring and summer almost every European form adorns these remote and marshy regions. During May the Buff-backed Herons were flying all over the plains in packs of a score to fifty or more, apparently in quest of a settlement; the pretty little Squacco Herons had then shifted their quarters from the marisma to the rushy lagoons, and many nests were ready for eggs in the juncales; but all this group breed late, none laying much before June.
Since we first visited these regions, now nearly twenty years ago, a sad diminution has taken place in the numbers of these beautiful Herons and Egrets, due in great measure to the cruel and thoughtless fashion of wearing their plumes in ladies' hats. Let ladies humanely remember that these plumes are only attained in the nesting season, when to kill the male means the sacrifice of a whole family. Fortunately there remain sequestered nooks, sacred as yet to wild nature. Both in the neighbourhood of Almonte and in certain marshy regions of vast cane-brake and wooded swamp on the Estremenian border, there survive unknown and unmolested colonies of these graceful creatures, where for many a year to come the Egrets, Buff-backed and Squacco Herons, the Night-Heron and Little Bittern, Spoonbill, Glossy Ibis and other "rare birds" may yet find a sanctuary protected by natural fastnesses, and by legions of leeches and mosquitoes that render human life well nigh intolerable. The very toads are there as big as small footstools; the natives yellow and sunken-eyed, with hollow cheeks and parchment skin.
BUFF-BACKED HERON.
BUFF-BACKED HERON.
Here, when summer-heats provoke miasma and fetid airs, languor-laden, from the morass, the herons congregate. In June their slight nests crowd the sallow-brakes and clumps of gnarled alders and aspens islanded in marsh, and barricaded with bramble and vicious thorny zarzas. Amidst umbrageous gloom the Night-Heron and Bittern dream away the hours of daylight, the former among the branches, the latter in thickest sedge. The Bittern lays its pheasant-like eggs in April, often in March; the Little Bittern not till June. It is difficult to fix a date for the rest—so uncertain are they, and so dependent on the seasons and the quantity of water in the marismas. We have eggs of the Night-Heron taken as early as May 20th—another year none were laid till June 8th. From this latter date onwards is perhaps the average time for eggs of that species, as well as those of the Egret, Buff-back, and Squacco Herons, and the Little Bittern.
So retiring are the nocturnal species that it is difficult to flush them without a dog; yet they cannot compare, in this respect, with their neighbours, the Crakes and Rails, which also abound in the Spanish morass—the Water-Rail and Spotted Crake most numerous, Baillon's Crake rather less so, and the Little Crake the scarcest. All these are pointed and 'roded' keenly by native dogs, but their skulking powers are a match for the staunchest. Mataperros—"kill-dogs"—is their Spanish nickname, their thin, curiously compressed bodies resembling in section that of one's hand held vertically, enabling them to glide like rats through the thickest growth of flags and aquatic herbage.
The nests of all the Rails are hard to find; but to identify the precise owner of each is a thousand-fold harder. Nests and eggs of all being closely alike, an unidentified clutch is worthless; but the man who can work this out knee-deep amidst mud and stagnant water, under a broiling sun, has patience that nothing can withstand, nor any obstacle resist.
During May a clamorous element is added to the bird-life of these lagoons by the nesting-colonies of Terns, which hover round the intruder, filling the air with their harsh vociferations. Santolalla is a stronghold of the Whiskered and Black Terns (H. hybrida and H. fissipes) whose nests are built on the water-lilies and floating water-weeds. There are other large colonies in the open marisma, where the Gull-billed and the Lesser Terns also nest, the former in some numbers.
MARSH HARRIER—VERY OLD MALE.
MARSH HARRIER—VERY OLD MALE.
June in Spain is a month of intense heat—heat of that fiery high-dried sort that scorches as an open furnace. In June, as a Spanish proverb says—"Nothing but a dog or an Englishman" ventures out of doors; nor from an ornithological point of view is there much inducement to do so. The teeming variety of bird-life which characterizes April and May is now conspicuously absent. Migration is suspended, and there is no movement of passage-birds. There is no longer the accustomed number of large hawks hunting the campiña, and even those birds which remain seem to keep out of sight, sheltering from the blazing heat.
Perhaps the most interesting birds at this season are the newly-fledged young of the Raptores. The young Imperial Eagles are of a beautiful tawny colour, and during the mid-day heat frequent the trees where they were hatched. We also obtained young Kites in the same way—very handsome birds, much ruddier than the old ones in April. The young of M. migrans, on the other hand, are less pleasing than their parents, being, in fact, a pale, rather "washed-out" reproduction of them. Towards the end of the month (June) the young Montagu's Harriers are on the wing; they have dark brown backs, each feather edged with chestnut, a white nape, and orange-tawny breast. Many of the young of the Marsh-Harrier are uniformly very dark, bronze-black, with rich orange crowns—strikingly handsome birds. Some have also patches of the latter colour on the scapulars, others on the breast—they vary greatly, no two are alike. This species is not easy to understand; one imagines that these very dark specimens are all young birds; that the old females are lighter brown with yellow heads, and that the very old males acquire half-blue wings and tail—I shot one of these latter with the whole head pure white, each feather streaked centrally with black. (See photo at p. 242.) But how is one to account for an individual—otherwise uniformly black—having a perfectly developed blue tail and secondaries?
During June we were surprised to find the Green Sandpiper tolerably numerous in the Coto Doñana. It was a very solitary species, a single bird frequenting almost each small pool or water-hole far out among the scrub. We at first imagined the females must be sitting, but all attempts to find the nests were of course futile. The Wood-Sandpiper was observed, on passage, in May.
As the long summer day draws to its close, the infinite variety of nocturnal sounds which, during the short twilight, suddenly awake into being, strikes strangely on a northern ear. During the gloaming the air has been alive with the darting forms of bats, terns, and pratincoles, of swifts and swallows, all busily hawking after insects or slow-flying beetles. But before dark these disappear. Of crepuscular birds, the first to commence the nocturnal concert is the Russet-necked Nightjar, which abounds all over the scrub; a few minutes later, from the cork-trees, resounds the note of the Little Owl, then the sharp ringing ki-yōū of Scop's Owl—both in sight, flickering against the darkening sky; while far and near among the grass the loud rattle of the mole-cricket starts like an alarum and from every pool the united croaks of literally millions of frogs form, as it were, a background of sound resembling the distant roar of a mighty city.
SUMMER EVENING—OWLS AND MOTHS.
SUMMER EVENING—OWLS AND MOTHS.
NOTES ON THE HISTORY OF THE "GITANOS."
The mysterious Rommany race which overruns every nation in Europe, but intermingles with none, has always abounded in Spain, and particularly in Andalucia, a land which is peculiarly favourable to the Ishmaelitish propensities of these human pariahs—as congenial to predatory wild men as to the wild beasts we elsewhere describe. Thoroughly typical objects both on the byeways and deserts of Spain, and of the animated scenes at her rural feasts and fairs, to which the gypsies flock like vultures to a carcase, it would be inappropriate here to omit all mention of this singular race, even though it may be impossible for us to add anything new to the exhaustive description of the Spanish gypsy narrated by Borrow in "The Zincali," a work based on intimate acquaintance with the gitanos and their language. To it we are indebted for much historic and ethnological information respecting the gypsy race, and take the liberty of quoting two or three passages from its pages.[55]
First appearing on Spanish soil during the early decades of the fifteenth century, after being driven from land to land, the Zingari outcasts speedily found a congenial home—if such a term is applicable to nomadic vagabonds—amidst the lone and sparsely-peopled regions of Iberia.
Whence they had originally come—whether from Egypt, as they themselves averred and as their Spanish name imports, or from India, as the term Zincali indicates—it is not our intention to inquire.[56] Suffice it that nearly five centuries ago, this invasion of tinkers, horse-thieves, sorcerers, and all-round rogues poured into Europe, and during the long period that has since elapsed have maintained themselves there—not, it is true, in luxury, rather in rags and apparent poverty—by means of robbery and deceit, at the expense of the various peoples upon whom, as a swarm of wasps or locusts, they have thought good to descend. All this time, too, they have maintained intact both their racial individuality, their peculiar language, and their inveterate habits of lying and thieving.
"Who are these gitanos?" querulously asks the learned Lorenzo Palminero more than three hundred years ago ("El Estudioso Cortesano," Alcalá, 1587). "Who are these Gitanos? I answer: these vile people first began to show themselves in Germany in the year 1417, where they call them Tartars, or Gentiles; in Italy they are termed Ciani. [In Spain the Arabs (Moors) knew the gypsies by only one name, charami = thieves.] They pretend that they come from Lower Egypt, and that they wander about as a penance, and to prove this they show letters from the King of Poland. They lie, however, for they do not lead the lives of penitents, but of dogs and thieves. A learned person [himself] in the year 1540 prevailed upon them, by dint of much persuasion, to show him the King's letter, and from it he gathered that the time of penance had already expired. He spoke to them in the Egyptian tongue. They said, however, as it was a long time since their departure from Egypt, they could no longer understand it. He then spoke to them in the vulgar Greek, such as is used at present in the Morea and Archipelago. Some understood it, others did not, so that as all did not understand it, we may conclude that the language they use is a feigned one, got up by thieves for the purpose of concealing their robberies, like the jargon of blind beggars."
From their earliest appearance in Spain the roving bands of the Rommany were found to be a public nuisance; but so rapidly grew the evil weed and took root in the soil, that by the middle of the fifteenth century the gypsies had established a rudely-organized system of violence, robbery and roguery from Biscay to the Mediterranean. The country roads were unsafe, infested with dark-skinned highwaymen; while rural districts were subjected to wholesale depredation, bands of these outcasts settling themselves in the adjacent hills, wastes, or forests, whence they plundered and virtually beleaguered the sparse and defenceless villages of all the country around. Once established amidst the sierras and wildernesses, it was no easy matter to dislodge them, or even to hold them in check. Spain has ever been a land of the guerilla—little war—and of the guerillero; and the gypsies, though by no means a warlike race, were not lacking in courage and in those qualities of hardihood and dash which constitute the most dangerous guerilleros. They possessed, moreover, the strength of union, an Ishmaelitish bond of brotherhood which held the outlaws together, while dividing them as by a great gulf from the peoples amidst whom they had come to dwell. They had also their secret language. Neither civil nor military power could make itself effective against "Will-o'-the-wisps," who are here to-day, gone to-morrow, whose homes were the forest-thicket and mountain-cave, who, with their fast and trusty horses and donkeys (their "stock-in-trade") could transport their whole tribe in dead of night to distant places with a speed almost equal to that of the wild beasts of the sierras, to whom they were so near akin.
The nominal employment of the gypsies was that of tinkers, workers in iron, and horse-traffickers: under which guise they really subsisted by cattle-lifting and horse-stealing, either by force, or fraud, according as circumstances might suggest. The female gypsies, or gitanas, more than doubled the ill-gotten gains of their husbands by the arts of sorcery and divination, by selling charms and love-philtres, stealing by legerdemain, and exercising the various branches of what are termed the "occult sciences"—in other words, practising upon the silly credulity of the weaker portion of humanity—as well as by other and more loathsome avocations. The credulity of their victims appears incredible, though it is hardly less marvellous than the tact and effrontery displayed by the gypsy women in their cozening and charlatan tricks. Their knowledge of human nature and how to reach its weak points, was remarkable in a race so low, so degraded, and wholly illiterate. They possessed the cunning and boldness of the wild beast, and combined with it a hatred of the "Busné," or Gentile, which the wild beast has not.
The bitterness of hatred which was cherished by the gitanos towards all of gentile race, appears incomprehensible, unless it springs from some old-time "first cause," the nature of which is long forgotten. Treacherous, cruel and vindictive, they had the wit to conceal their ill-will beneath soft words, and thus obtained means of committing atrocities against the "gentile," the records of which make one shudder.
Amongst the various devices employed by the gitanos to plunder their victims, may be mentioned the following:—
Hokkano Baro.—The great trick, or swindle, varying from the "confidence trick" in its multifarious forms, up to the boldest and most barefaced deceptions, often on a grand scale.
La Baji, or, in Spanish, buena ventura.—Fortune-telling, by chiromancy, necromancy, and other divinations.
Ustilar Pastelas.—Stealing by legerdemain or sleight of hand.
Querelar Nasela.—The evil eye.
Drao = poison.—Both these latter devices were employed to produce epidemics among men or flocks, when the reputed medical or veterinary skill of the gitanos was called into requisition; and, being aware of the origin of the disease, they seldom failed to effect its cure.
The gitanos were, and are divided into two classes: one section have more or less settled colonies in the Spanish towns and cities, where they dwell in quarters apart from the natives, known as gitanerias, wherein they ply their trade of tinkers, horse-dealers and shearers, sorcerers, and general thieves; and from whence, in pursuance of their inveterate vagabondism, they sally forth from time to time to attend distant fairs and markets to dispose of their stolen goods; and, as occasion arises, to perpetrate fresh crimes. The other section is more exclusively nomadic, roaming at large over the wilds of Spain, having no home save the shelter of forest or sierra, and to some extent actually migratory.
The daily life of the Spanish gypsy has always been characterized by a squalor and degradation exceeding that of the residuum of any European nation. They appear to have been devoid of the faintest conception of religion beyond that undefined sense of superstition which is common to savage races all over the world, or to possess any sense of morality, decency, or self-respect. Their food was of the foulest—they shrank not from carrion, and have been accused, apparently not without reason, of cannibalism, for which in early days many a gitano swung from the gibbet. Male and female alike, they were adepts at devilry and crime of every degree, yet amidst such a category of evil, they still possessed the one singular virtue of esteeming purity in their women. We quote the following picture of life in a gitaneria from Borrow ("Zincali," i., p. 76 et seq.):—"The gitanerias at even-fall were frequently resorted to by individuals widely differing in station from the inmates of these places—we allude to the young and dissolute nobility and hidalgos of Spain. The gypsy women and girls were the principal attraction to these visitors. Wild and singular as these females are in their appearance, there can be no doubt, for the fact has been frequently proved, that they are capable of exciting passions of the most ardent kind, particularly in the bosoms of those who are not of their race, which passion of course becomes the more violent when the almost utter impossibility of gratifying it is known. No females in the world can be more licentious in word or gesture, in dance and song, than the gitanas, but there they stop; and so of old, if their titled visitors presumed to seek for more, an unsheathed dagger or gleaming knife speedily repulsed those who expected that the gift most dear among the sect of the Roma was within the reach of a Busné.
"Such visitors, however, were always encouraged to a certain point, and by this and various other means the gitanos acquired connections which frequently stood them in good stead in the hour of need. What availed it to the honest labourers of the neighbourhood, or the citizens of the town to make complaints to the Corregidor respecting thefts and frauds committed by the gitanos when perhaps the sons of that very Corregidor frequented the nightly dances at the gitanería, and were deeply enamoured of some of the dark-eyed singing girls? What availed complaints when perhaps a gypsy sybil, the mother of those very girls, had free admission to the house of the Corregidor at all times and seasons, and spa'ed the buena ventura of his daughters, promising them counts and dukes, or Andalucian knights in marriage, or prepared philtres for his lady by which she was always to reign supreme in the affections of her husband? And above all, what availed it to the plundered to complain that his mule or horse had been stolen when the gitano robber, perhaps the husband of the sybil and the father of the black-eyed Gitanillas, was at that moment actually in treaty with my lord the Corregidor himself, to supply him with some splendid, thick-maned, long-tailed steed at a small price, to be obtained, as the reader may well suppose, by an infraction of the laws? The favour and protection which the gitanos experienced from persons of high rank is alluded to in the Spanish laws, and can only be accounted for by the motives above detailed."
By the middle of the fifteenth century the bands of the Rommany had become a serious danger in rural Spain, and their ability to act daringly in concert was demonstrated by their attempt to massacre the whole populace and sack the town of Logroño. That town at the moment was stricken down by a pestilence, which it was more than suspected had been caused by the Zincales themselves having poisoned with their drao the springs whence Logroño was supplied with water. Already, before the gypsy assault, the greater part of the populace had perished of the disease, and the annihilation of the survivors was only averted by the singular foresight and energy of one man—Francisco Alvarez. This Alvarez in his early life was said to have been admitted to the community of a gitano tribe, to have married a daughter of its chief, and eventually to have become the chief himself. Around the details of the affair hangs some uncertainty; but the historic fact that the gitanos actually attempted the massacre and plunder of a considerable Spanish town has been well attested, among others by Francisco de Córdova on his "Didascalia" (Lugduni, 1615).
The beginning of the seventeenth century saw the evil still on the increase, despite repressive measures. Bands of these human fiends, many hundreds strong, roamed over the highlands of Castile and Arragon, and were only dispersed, after plundering and devastating the country, when sufficient military force had at length been collected. The gypsies speedily searched out the richest provinces of the land—New Castile, La Mancha, Estremadura, Murcia, Valencia and Andalucia, and troubled but little the poor, wild, mountain-regions of the Asturias, Galicia, and the hill-country of Biscay.