Gradually, as the line approaches the flat shores of the marisma, the "driving" shots increase in number and the cry of pájaro, the Spanish equivalent to "mark over," becomes incessant. Pajaró, pajaró, the magic word comes borne on the breeze from right and left, dwelt on by the Andaluz till the final "ó" dies away in prolonged cadence; and there, far away ahead, appear sundry dark specks in the sky, rapidly growing in size as the redlegs wheel back towards the spot where we crouch behind a lentiscus. Now they are overhead, for two brief seconds within reach of a well-directed aim—then, in happy moments, a brace of redlegs will bounce on the bents.
Here every little thicket or clump of brushwood holds some of the birds that have been driven forward, and even on the barest ground some have found refuge behind a tuft of grass or palmetto. Everywhere partridges start up from the slightest covert, and one sees them running forward ere they rise. But the hottest work occurs in the belt of rush and reed—in the juncos that border the marisma. The finale is short, but it is sweet, and the man who has stopped handsomely the rocketers that sped to his lot has a reputation ready made.
Such is, in outline, the system of an avero, several of which can be carried out on a winter's day.
The partridges, unwilling to run save among the scrub, usually rise at longish range on bare patches, and mount rapidly in air, their flight rather resembling that of black-game than of our grey partridge, and as they wheel back fast and high, and at all angles, they test the best skill of the gunner. Besides partridge and rabbits, an odd pair of mallards will often rise from some rushy hollow, and from the drier reeds a quail or two spring with their smart game-like dash. The small Andalucian bush-quail (Turnix sylvatica) is occasionally shot, and crossing the more open ground, among short scrub of tamarisk and juniper, a few hares will be added to the bag. These are of the small southern race, Lepus mediterraneus, weighing only five or six pounds, more brindled in colour and with warmer shades on shoulders and flanks than ours. One of them being hemmed in, was this afternoon swimming a shallow pool when she attracted the attention of a Southern Peregrine falcon (Falco punicus) which was waiting on the partridge in front of our line. This falcon had already made several fine stoops at the flying game, all unsuccessfully, when the sight of a hare in difficulties brought him overhead, and, in the act of poising, a double shot laid both low.
After two or three days with the small game, it was decided to give the deer a turn. The sun shone brightly as we rode out to the ground selected for the day's sport, and a gentle breeze blew from a favourable direction. The first beat, nevertheless, proved blank—only hinds passing through the line, which served to give us, for a moment, a flutter of excitement as they crashed through the under-wood, and dashed away at redoubled speed. On the next drive several stags were seen—some broke back, but three ran the gauntlet of our line at different points, offering good opportunities to three of our guns, two of which, however, were not accepted. The third hart was stopped in the midst of a last bound by a clean rifle-shot at long range—a fine head of twelve tines.
