This operation had lasted four hours, during which the cold had been intense, a bitter blast blowing with hurricane-force through the rock-passes where we held guard, as through a funnel. At intervals the wind came laden with fine snow or jagged crystalline icicles which ricochetted from the rocks like things of life. At one period—the climax of the storm—if a hundred ibex or wolves had filed past the writer's post, his fingers were too benumbed by exposure to have handled the rifle. The ascent had also occupied four hours—the apparent altitude (by aneroid) being nearly 8,000 feet—and the return to the spot fixed for our camp would require two more. Hence no time remained for further operations that day, and we returned, sad and empty-handed, to camp.
Two blank days followed, and on the third a hurricane of wind, rain, and driving mist forbade all hope of sport. The first beat next morning was again blank, no ibex being seen; but a second, though covering a much smaller area, enclosed a band of eleven. These, when first viewed, were coming in directly towards the guns, and held this course till lost to sight in an intervening ravine. Shortly afterwards the upper flank of the beaters crested the further ridge, and at once, we saw, they opened out their line, extending upwards towards the snow. These men had already seen that the goats, true to their natural instincts, were seeking to gain the higher ground: and a marvellous sight ensued—to watch, through the binoculars, these hardy mountaineers fairly racing with the fleet-footed ibex, and striving, by sheer speed and strength of limb and lung, to head their flight, and cut off their retreat to the snow-sanctuaries above.
At first one could not believe that biped, however specially organized, could possibly cope, in simple activity, with the wild-goats on their native rocks. Yet, when the game emerged from the gorge, it became evident that the flank-movement had, at least to some extent, succeeded: for the now-alarmed animals, though still tending upwards, had abandoned the idea of direct escape in that direction, and were now ascending the rocks in a slanting course which pointed very little beyond our own positions. The writer, who occupied the upper post, at the foot of some terrific canchos, which, in cold blood, had seemed insuperable, now, in the excitement of the chase, found means—nescio quos—to surmount the obstacle and gain a "pass" beyond, by which, it seemed likely, the game might seek escape. More nimble still, our friend Magdaléno had ere this, with winged feet, reached a yet greater height: and here, as the ibex, scudding upwards with surprising speed, passed in straggling file, his single ball struck fair a lordly ram, and threw back the rest in dismay. Quickly followed from below the double crack of an "express": but these bullets, fired at 200 yards, produced no perceptible effect.
Turned from their first point, the ibex, now separate and scattered, when next they appeared, were heading, some for the snow-fields direct, others for the lower passes: in one of which a five-year-old male offered a chance, at eighty yards, to the ambushed "Paradox"—a chance that was not declined, though only attained at the end of a severe scramble of 200 yards across the rocks. The hollow-fronted ball struck on the ribs, and traversing the vitals, "mushroomed" itself against the shoulder-blade. Presently, from the heights above, rang out three or four reports in quick succession—the upward-bound contingent of ibex were running the gauntlet of our driving-line. A male and two females offered long or random shots to the mountaineers. One of the latter was reported hit—though the pair were followed by a chivo, or kid, only ten days old!—but no tangible result was secured by this fusillade.
Meanwhile the stricken macho had descended to the depths of the glen, where he was presently descried by our scouts stretched on the shelf of a jutting crag, a mile below. How human eye managed to detect so small an object amidst so vast a chaos of broken ground, rocks, screes, and scrub-clad patches, passes understanding: but soon a long "wing" thrown out, turned the flank of his position, and the noble beast, aroused once more by the rattle of a rifle-ball on the rocks, made a final effort to escape, which was terminated by a "Paradox" bullet at twenty yards' distance. This, our first old ibex-ram, carried a handsome, massive head; but its symmetry was marred by one of the points being broken. The undamaged horn measured rather over twenty-eight inches.
So passed the days with varying incident, which it boots not to recount in detail; sometimes we saw game, more often the reverse. One element alone remained permanent and changeless—the daily labour was extreme. Strength and physical powers were taxed—aye, strained, almost to the breaking point, and in these contests of lung and limb the wild-goat necessarily held the advantage.
One morning, wind and weather being favourable, it was proposed to double-bank our beaters—that is, to drive two separate valleys at once towards a single dividing spur.[34] The ascent to-day followed the ridge of a deep garganta, or rock-abyss, embedded among pines, on one of which was superimposed a pile of branches and sticks—the home of a pair of Black Vultures (Vultur monachus). It was almost a solitary tree—one of the few that survived above the pine-zone, finding root-hold in a crevice of the hanging rock: a flat-topped, wind-tormented tree, its spreading branches distorted by the weight of winter's snows. Hard by the nest sat one of these colossal birds, not 200 yards away, though to have reached the spot, across the gorge, might have occupied an hour. An "express" bullet was sent whistling past his monkish cranium; slowly the great wings unfolded, and the vulture flapped heavily down the ravine.
Vultures are comparatively scarce in this part of Spain—far more so than in Andalucia. We only noticed one small colony in the Sierra de Gredos; and of its six or eight pairs, our beaters, who passed close below their eyries, declared that two were of the black species. The Black Vulture is not known to nest either gregariously or on rocks: yet we have twice in Andalucia noticed them apparently doing both these things—associated with Griffons—but without, on either occasion, reducing the observation to proof. The above statement, however, tends to confirm the fact. Bird-life, as in most mountain-regions, was not abundant here. Buzzards soared over the pines, and the song of our common thrushes and blackbirds rang through the woods as at home. Higher up were ring-ousels and redstarts, wheatears (Saricola aurita and S. stapazina), black chats (Dromolœa leucura), skylarks and titlarks—all these breeding. Besides these, we also observed the Egyptian Vulture, the Alpine pipit (Anthus spipoletta), and Alpine accentor (Accentor collaris), both common, the blue thrush, rock-thrush, nuthatch, and Dartford warbler: and on May 10th, at 5,500 feet, after a stormy night, picked up, in a disabled state, a pretty little bluethroat (Cyanecula wolfi, Brehm) of the unspotted variety, with entirely blue gorget. This little wanderer had doubtless perished by the severities of weather encountered in crossing this lofty range on his passage to the north. During an afternoon's trouting in a hill-burn on May 13th, the following additional species were observed (altitude 5,000 feet)—ortolans, cirl-and corn-buntings, stonechats, wagtails, crag-martins, and sandpiper.
Ravens and choughs tenanted the crags, and the red-legs were met with very high up. Both in this sierra, in Nevada, and other alpine ranges, we have kept a strict look-out for ptarmigan, but not a sign of them have we met with. They are unknown to the cazadores of the sierras, and it appears certain that none exist in Spain, save in the Pyrenees.