The six isolated colonies of ibex, separated from each other during ages, live under totally different natural conditions. For while some, as stated, exist at 8000, 10,000, or 12,000 feet altitude, others occupy hills of much more moderate elevations--say 4000 to 6000 feet, some of which are bush-clad to their summits. Under such circumstances there have naturally developed divergencies not only in habits, but in form and size. Particularly does this apply to the horns, and for that reason we give a series of photos of typical examples from various points. The ibex of the Pyrenees is certainly the largest race, and has been entitled by scientists _Capra pyrenaica_; those of the centre and south of Spain being differentiated as _C. hispánica_. We attach less importance to specific distinctions, but leave the illustrations of specimens to speak for themselves. It may, however, be remarked that examples from the two outside extremes (Pyrenees and Neváda) most closely assimilate in their flattened and compressed form of horn. Neither in Grédos nor Neváda are the rock-formations so precipitous as in the Picos de Europa in Asturias--described later in this book. They present, nevertheless, difficulties possibly insuperable to mere hunters unskilled in the technique of climbing. Rock-climbing forms a recognised branch of "mountaineering," but of that science the authors (with sorrow be it confessed) have never been enamoured. To us, mountains, merely as such, have not appealed. But they form the home of alpine creatures, the study and acquisition of which were objects that no terrestrial obstacle could entirely forbid, and we enjoy retrospective pride in having so far surmounted those antecedent terrors as to have secured a few specimens of this, the most "impossible" of European trophies--the Spanish ibex. An awkward situation is a subrounded wall of rough granulated granite blocking our course and traversed obliquely by an up-trending fissure barely the breadth of hempen soles, its inclination outward, and the "tread" carpeted with slippery wet moss still half frozen. It is seldom what one can _see_ that gives pause, but the fear of the unseen. Here we hesitate by reason of the uncertainty of what may confront beyond that grim curve. The fissure might cease; to turn back would clearly be impossible. Impatient of delay our crag-born guide--a _homo rupestris_, prehensile of foot--seized the gun, and with a muttered ejaculation that might have included scorn, in three strides had skipt around the dreaded corner--of course we followed.