Among "sundries" were included common and ruddy sheldrakes, gadwall and garganey, marbled ducks (a few), common and white-eyed pochards (several), many coots, an egret, stilts, and a pair of oyster-catchers.
An Arctic Winter in Southern Spain.
Never in our experience of well-nigh a quarter of a century had such extremes of cold been known in this sunny land as those of December, 1890. Nor will the destruction wrought by that phenomenal winter be remedied for many a long year, as brown and blasted oliveyards, and thousands of acres of orange-groves, almost every tree cut back to the bole and grafted as a last resource, bear testimony.
Here, in a sporting sense, is the report of that winter, and its effects on fowl and fowling. December 8th, 1890.—Not a drop of rain fell this year till the 2nd inst., and the conditions for sport appeared as favourable as those of last year (already described above). Cold as Siberia was our ride to Vasquez's choza (November 28), in the teeth of the bitter east wind which swept across the dry marisma, and cut into our very marrow.
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."
A note on the subsequent movements of the wildfowl may be an appropriate complement to this chapter. During the severe weather of December, most of the ducks disappeared. At the New Year comparatively few remained, and a second shoot resulted, as regards wildfowl, in failure. This, however, did not greatly disturb us—other game demanded attention, and we knew our web-footed friends had only bid us au revoir. "They will return at the end of February," asserted Vasquez; and return they did, to find the sunken tubs at El Jondon and along the cane-brakes of Quebrantiero again "occupied in force"—once more along the line rang out a fusillade.