Hunting -- Spain; Natural history -- Spain; Spain -- Description and travel
In practice, therefore, the game has to be moved or cajoled--it can
hardly be said to be "driven"--into going, at least so far, down-wind by
skilled handling of the driving-line and by intelligent co-operation on
the part of each individual driver. In the great mountain-drives of the
sierras (elsewhere described) packs of hounds, being carefully trained,
perform infinite service. Always under control of their huntsman, they
systematically search out thickets impenetrable to man and push all game
forward. In the Coto Doñana, our scratch-pack of _podencos_ and mongrels
of every degree, run riot unchecked at hind, hare, or rabbit, giving
tongue in all directions at once, and probably do as much harm as good.
Our mounted keepers, however, expert in divining afar the yet unformed
designs of the game ahead, are quick to counter each move by a feint or
demonstration behind; and when desirable, to forestall attempted escape
by resolute riding. The Spanish are a nation of horsemen, and a fine
sight it is to see these wild guardas galloping helter-skelter through
scrub that reaches the saddle--especially the way they ride down a
wounded stag or boar with the _garrocha_--a long wooden lance.
Despite it all, however, many stags break back. Riding with the beaters
it is instructive to watch the manoeuvres of an old stag as, sinking
from sight, he couches among quite low scrub on some hillock, or stands
statuesque with horns aback hiding behind a clump of tall
tree-heaths--alert all the while, stealthily to shift his position as
yapping _podencos_ on one side or the other may suggest--and watching
each opportunity to evade the encompassing danger. Now a stretch of
denser jungle obstructs the advancing line. The beaters are forced apart
to pass it, and a gap or two yawns in the attack. Instantly that
introspective wild beast realises his advantage--he springs to sight,
ignores Spanish expletives that scorch the scrub, and in giant bounds
breaks back in the very face of encircling foes. Within thirty seconds
he has regained security amid leagues of untrodden wilds.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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