Against this, our old mentor, Howard Saunders, wrote across the proof-sheet: “There ARE rare birds, some nearly extinct”; and the above species affords an admirable example of these exceptions to the general rule.
No one at present knows the true home of the slender-billed curlew, nor the points (if any) where it is common, nor where it breeds. In southern Spain it appears every year during February and at no other season; while even then its visits are confined to a few days and to certain limited areas. The photo at p. 250 shows a beautiful pair shot February 5, 1898. When met with, they are rather conspicuous birds, distinguishable from whimbrel by their paler colour—indeed, on rising, the “slender-bills” look almost white. A specially favoured haunt in the Coto Doñana is the bare sandy flat in front of Martinazo.
When we first studied ornithology there still remained whole categories of birds (many of them abundant British species) whose breeding-places were utterly unknown.
One by one they have been removed from the list of “missing,” forced to surrender their secrets by the resistless, world-scouring energy of ornithologists (mostly British). The year 1909 saw but ONE species yet undiscovered—our present friend, the slender-billed curlew.
While we are yet busy with this book, the eggs of the slender-billed curlew have been found—in Siberia!—the ultimate answer in all such cases. The first was exhibited by Mr. H. E. Dresser at the meeting of the British Ornithologists’ Club on December 15, 1909, having been taken by Mr. P. A. Schastowskij on the shores of Lake Tschany, near Taganowskiye, in Siberia on the 20th of May preceding.
Yes, there do exist “rare birds,” and in Europe the slender-billed curlew appears to be an excellent illustration of the fact.
Santolalla, December 29, 1897.—A wild night, black as ink, and a whole gale blowing from the eastward; an hour’s ride through the scrub, and five guns silently distribute themselves along the shores. Strategic necessity placed us to windward, so most fowl were bound to fall in the water. As stars pale to the dawn the flight begins, the dark skies hurtle with the rush of passing clouds, and for two hours a steady fusillade startles the solitude.
As ten o’clock approaches, one by one we seek the cork-oak, from beneath whose canopy a welcome column of smoke has long announced that breakfast was preparing. But considering the run of shooting we have heard, the toll of game brought in seems humiliating. Each gunner, gloomily depositing his fifteen or twenty, declares he has lost twice that number in the open water!... Well, a list of “claims” being drawn up, it appears that 205 duck are stated to have been shot, while only 120 can be counted. In his inner conscience possibly each man regards the rest as ... but, ere breakfast is over, here come the keepers. They have ridden round the lee-shores and islets, and bring in another 114!
The bag after all sums up to 234, or actually nineteen more than the sum-total of claims that we had been laughing at as extravagant. This is the list:—
| 2 | geese |
| 8 | mallard |
| 53 | wigeon |
| 152 | teal |
| 4 | gadwall |
| 2 | shoveler |
| 3 | pochard |
| 9 | tufted duck |