Gibraltar in 1782 In a roundabout way the early history of Andalucian ornithology owes much to Sir Francis Drake who, in 1587, famously sacked Cadiz. Less well known is the theory that the 2,900 barrels of sherry he 'liberated' established the English, and later British, taste for sherry (or 'sack' as it was then known). As Shakespeare's Sir John Falstaff famously observed "If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack." The history of birds in this area also owes much to the Treaty of Utrecht (1713). Why so? The first encouraged a close British involvement with the sherry trade based around Jerez de la Frontera. In the 19th and early 20th centuries this drew a number of Victorian 'sporting gentlemen' to the area amongst whom were a number of keen amateur ornithologists. The ceding of Gibraltar to Britain under the Treaty of Utrecht meant that what had been something of a backwater quickly became an important British naval and military base. Not surprisingly, off duty ornithologically inclined officers frequently ventured into nearby Spain.
One of the earliest British observers to comment on the ornithological richness of the area and the extraordinary bird migration was the Rev John White. His observations in 1776 would have been lost to posterity had not he communicated them to his more famous brother, Gilbert White of Selborne. His letters had a crucial role in persuading Gilbert White to favour the hypothesis that birds migrated in winter rather than hibernating as many then believed. Sadly, Rev John White's proposal to publish a book about his sojourn on Gibraltar was never realised. He was unfortunate not to be given the credit for “discovering” Andalusian Hemipode years before it was officially described.
The most singular ornithological discovery made by a visiting British officer in the 19th century was made by a naval man, Captain Samuel Edward Cook. In his in his book 'Sketches in Spain During the Years 1829, 30, 31 & 32” Pub. 1834 (see - https://archive.org/details/sketchesinspain00widdgoog) he recounts his discovery of Azure-winged Magpie writing that it is “common in new Castile, in the wooded parts, and is in vast numbers in the Sierra Morena ...” His short description of foraging flocks couldn't be bettered today - 'They live in small flocks, generally into a line, are extremely watchful, and are constantly moving, in short flights, commonly in cover, feeding on roads, or as food may offer'. Now this race has been widely split from its Chinese cousin it is sometimes called Cook's Magpie and bears the scientific name Cyanopica (cyana) cooki.
Lord Lilford The tradition of studying birds started in England by William Turner whose 'Avium praecipuarum' (1544) was the first printed book entirely devoted to birds, continued by Ray & Willoughby's Ornithologia (1676), Gilbert White's 'Natural History of Selborne' (1789), Thomas Berwick's 'British Birds' (1797) and flowering in the 1800s simply didn't exist in Spain. Hence it wasn’t until the visits of Thomas Littleton Powys, fourth Baron Lilford (1833-1896) that observations of Andalucian (and Spanish) birds were put on a firm footing. Previous Spanish lists were dismissed by his contemporaries as being, to use a modern phrase, ‘not fit for purpose’ being riddled with errors. This was scarcely surprising as the native population was, according to later writers, notoriously slack about bird names using Aguila (Aguilucho) for any raptor from Lammergeier to Lesser Kestrel (and sometimes even Raven). The name Quebrantahuesos (Lammergeier) was often also used for Egyptian Vulture (a confusing habit that persists today). Unlike their English counterparts, the Spanish landed gentry had little interest in birds (unless they could be hunted) whilst the burgeoning middle classes that did so much for British ornithology scarcely existed in Spain. T
'Observer's Book of Birds' With his wealthy aristocratic background, Lilford had the means to pursue his lifelong interest in birds and wildlife. From 1856 to 1858, he cruised the Mediterranean in his private yacht stopping off at Gibraltar en route. On his return to England he became a founder of the BOU (1858) whose journal, ‘The Ibis’, he generously supported. Between 1864 and 1882, Lilford paid frequent visits to Spain, collecting and making careful notes of what he saw. After his two part paper entitled ‘Notes on the Ornithology of Spain’ (1865/66) was published (in “The Ibis’ naturally) he became regarded as the authority on Iberian birds (aided by his fluency in Castilian). Lilford’s influence continued well beyond his death since the illustrations by Archibald Thorburn which he commissioned for his “Coloured Figures of the Birds of the British Islands” were later used in the ‘Observer’s Book of Birds’; a book which probably encouraged more people to take up bird-watching than any other. (For detailed biographical information about the earlier ornithologists noted here see https://archive.org/stream/ibis29brit#page/n7/mode/2up)
Howard Saunders Another notable ornithologists of this era was Howard Saunders, a wealthy merchant and banker, who visited southern Spain a number of times between 1862 and 1868. These trips formed the basis of several notes in 'Ibis' including a “List of the birds of Southern Spain” in 1871 (https://archive.org/stream/ibis13brit#page/54/mode/2up). These notes also formed the basis of a popular article, 'Ornithological Rambles in Southern Spain', published in 'The Field' in 1874. That such a respected and experienced ornithologist as Saunders claimed that he had found the nest of a Western Rock Nuthatch near Archena (Murcia) only serves to remind us how difficult things were for early ornithologists who lacked the background information and resources we take for granted. (The bird was doubtless a European Nuthatch which rarely nest in rocky crevices).
Lt-Col Howard Irby When in Dublin in the 1850s, Lord Lilford made a friendship that was to have a profound influence on Spanish ornithology. Lt-Colonel Howard Irby (1836 -1905) was his junior by three years and came from similarly aristocratic stock being the grandson of Lord Boston, but unlike Lilford he was a career soldier. Educated at Rugby, Irby served in the Crimean War, fought in the Indian Mutiny and survived a shipwreck, but his chance to make his ornithological mark came when he was posted to Gibraltar in 1868. Here, encouraged by his old friend Lord Lilford, he began his study of the birds of nearby Andalucia. Often staying in Casa Viejas (Benalup), Espartina (near Vejer) or Tahivilla he explored the great laguna that was La Janda and the rugged hills of the Alcornocales.
A typical Victorian sportsman-birdwatcher of the 'what's hit's history' school of birding, he was dubious about the value of sight records. This, though, was understandable in a time when observers had neither field guides nor decent optics and when extraordinary claims were sometimes made. His scathing comment regarding observers who identify “all and every species within range of their vision” has some resonance today, even if his scepticism that one could “distinguish a Common from a Lesser Kestrel” from a passing train doesn't sound so difficult to modern observers (as long as it's a male!). Yet he also had very progressive ideas, condemning “the slaughter of birds whose skins, when compared and examined by table naturalists …. made into new species without any knowledge of their habits, notes, etc” and suggesting that “Much more can be done by observation than by the gun, and when a bird is destroyed all chance of noticing its habits is destroyed likewise”. Accordingly, much of his seminal ‘Birds of the Strait of Gibraltar’ (1875), which contained a huge amount of new information, was based on personal observation. It’s doubtful, though, that any modern bird book would have a chapter on rough shooting, including that of Spanish Ibex! Irby’s work covers most of the regular species found in the area although he dismissed Thekla Lark as a race of Crested (probably due to his distrust of 'table naturalists') and makes no mention of the distinctive voice of local Chiffchaffs (now recognised as a separate species). Neither did it mention Red-rumped Swallow, but then at the time the species, now widespread, didn't occur in the area! His role in Iberian ornithology is commemorated in the scientific name for the local race of Long-tailed Tit – A. C. irbii. As late as the mid-1960s his work was still considered an useful authority on the birds of the area and was only replaced when Clive Finlayson's magisterial "Birds of the Strait of Gibraltar' appeared in 1992.
Willoughby Verner - an expert climber When Irby's classic work was revised and enlarged in 1895 (see - https://archive.org/stream/ornithologyofstr00irbyrich#page/n0/mode/2up) it was at the urging of Lilford and another British soldier-ornithologist, Colonel Willoughby Verner (1852 - 1922). Verner supplied many additional notes, photographs and sketches. This later edition had brief thumbnail descriptions of all the species covered and a few were handsomely illustrated with eight colour plates by Archibald Thorburn, courtesy of Lord Lilford. It's interesting to reflect that six of the eight of plates show birds of prey(the other two showing the endemic Azure-winged Magpie and a gamebird (Andalucian Hemipode), that most of the Verner's photos show the perilous location of raptor nests and of six monochrome sketches (half show hunting scenes). This may well give both the flavour of the time and the primary interest of the writers!
Although Verner was posted to Gibraltar in 1874, he and Irby first met on Tiree, in 1877; it was the start of a long friendship and fruitful collaboration. Although a man of many talents, being a soldier, military historian, artist, inventor, climber, speleologist and antiquarian, Verner’s overriding passion was natural history. As noted above he contributed many notes to the second edition of Irby’s work having retired to Algeciras at the end of his military career. Today his “My Life among the Wild Birds in Spain” (Pub. 1909 - see https://archive.org/details/mylifeamongwildb00vern) makes somewhat uncomfortable reading given his evident glee in birds nesting (as he euphemistically called it). Yet there’s no disguising that he was a superlative observer with a deep knowledge of the area and its birdlife. His book contains chapters on the larger and most charismatic birds of the area (particularly raptors and how to reach their nests). There's relatively little on what he somewhat disparagingly refers to as 'lesser birds'. He also pioneered the use of small hand held cameras at a time when their use was disparaged. As a keen antiquarian and expert climber, Verner was also one of the first people to explore Cueva de la Pileta in Benaoján which he helped bring to public notice.
Although Verner was posted to Gibraltar in 1874, he and Irby first met on Tiree, in 1877; it was the start of a long friendship and fruitful collaboration. Although a man of many talents, being a soldier, military historian, artist, inventor, climber, speleologist and antiquarian, Verner’s overriding passion was natural history. As noted above he contributed many notes to the second edition of Irby’s work having retired to Algeciras at the end of his military career. Today his “My Life among the Wild Birds in Spain” (Pub. 1909 - see https://archive.org/details/mylifeamongwildb00vern) makes somewhat uncomfortable reading given his evident glee in birds nesting (as he euphemistically called it). Yet there’s no disguising that he was a superlative observer with a deep knowledge of the area and its birdlife. His book contains chapters on the larger and most charismatic birds of the area (particularly raptors and how to reach their nests). There's relatively little on what he somewhat disparagingly refers to as 'lesser birds'. He also pioneered the use of small hand held cameras at a time when their use was disparaged. As a keen antiquarian and expert climber, Verner was also one of the first people to explore Cueva de la Pileta in Benaoján which he helped bring to public notice.
Walter J Buck (left) and Abel Chapman Before Verner set pen to paper the study of Spain's wildlife by English visitors was stimulated by two books that found a wide audience (indeed they probably galvanised the old soldier to write his memoirs). These were the work of two well connected sportsmen Abel Chapman and Walter Buck. Like Irby, Abel Chapman (1851-1929) was an old Rugbeian, but, unlike Irby (and Lilford) he was not from aristocratic stock and nor was he a military man. He was, as Victorians disparagingly called it, ‘in trade’, but fortunately for ornithology, the family business of T. E. Chapman, were brewers and wine-merchants. Accordingly, after leaving school he visited Spain (sherry) and Portugal (port) mixing business with pleasure – principally wildfowling. Although first and foremost a sportsman (in the traditional sense of the word), Chapman was an observant naturalist whose first book was “Bird-Life of the Borders” (1889). In Jerez he made friends with Walter J Buck (1843-1917) who was the British vice-consul there. Buck was extremely well connected having taken over the firm Sandeman in 1879 and was instrumental in that firm producing its own sherry. More importantly, Buck and Chapman formed a small shooting syndicate that rented the Coto Doňana for several years. Together Buck and Chapman produced two highly influential books on Spain and its wildlife – “Wild Spain” (1893 – see - https://archive.org/details/wildspainrecords00chaprich) and “Unexplored Spain” (1910 - see - https://archive.org/details/unexploredspain00chaprich). Despite the wider canvas - geographical and otherwise - there's much in the books about Andalucia in general and the Coto Doňana in particular as Jerez de la Frontera was their base The subtitle of the first book - Records of Sport with Rifle, Rod and Gun, Natural History and Exploration - gives a good idea the book's main themes and the majority of birds discussed are the larger species either raptors or sporting quarry. The second book has less about birds in general, but the last chapter 'Sketches of Spanish Birdlife' gives a good formal account of various species. Unlike Irby’s more formal work, their books were wonderfully discursive and anecdotal. The books are also a wealth of information about Spanish society at that time and the desperate poverty of the campesinos which does much to explain the subsequent turmoil in Spaish society. The chapter in Las Hurdes in 'Unexplored Spain' presages Luis Buňel's classic film 'Tierra sin Pan' (Land without Bread) of 1933. It's also worth remembering that although railways in Spain had becomes quite well developed by Buck and Chapman's day (the Algeciras-Ronda line being completed in 1892 for example), journeys into the 'campo' at this time still involved the same long, hot and tiring journeys on foot or horseback that previous generations had endured. There was no easy motoring along tarmac roads for these adventurers!
Both books contain much information about the Coto Doňana and, although the main focus is on the larger mammals and gamebirds, they also dealt with the smaller birds, reptiles, insects and plants of the area. It was Chapman who first reported that Flamingo bred there and drew attention to the area’s importance as a migratory route.
Written in a fluent and interesting style, their books inspired generations of British naturalists; it was ”Wild Spain” that fired Guy Mountfort’s interest and was hence indirectly responsible for his equally inspirational book, “Portrait of a Wilderness” (1958).
Both books contain much information about the Coto Doňana and, although the main focus is on the larger mammals and gamebirds, they also dealt with the smaller birds, reptiles, insects and plants of the area. It was Chapman who first reported that Flamingo bred there and drew attention to the area’s importance as a migratory route.
Written in a fluent and interesting style, their books inspired generations of British naturalists; it was ”Wild Spain” that fired Guy Mountfort’s interest and was hence indirectly responsible for his equally inspirational book, “Portrait of a Wilderness” (1958).
Thus far all the British officer ornithologists have been army men but the Royal Navy played its part too. Amongst the most outstanding of these was Captain (later Rear-Admiral) Hubert Lynes (1874–1942). For decades the 'odd' Phylocopus warblers found in the mountains of western Andalucia had been thought to be Willow Warblers with an unusual song It was as a result of Lynes' work (who studied them near Gibraltar) that it was realised that they were actually a form of chiffchaff with distinctive song (now regarded as a full species, Iberian Chiffchaff). Lynes published his findings in 'The Ibis' Vol II 1914 (see – http://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/item/100092#page/370/mode/1up). Like those before him, Lynes initially mistook the birds' tripartite song as a local dialect of Willow Warbler. However, unlike others, he carefully investigated the situation. On finding a nest and collecting a specimen he realised he'd made an error and that the birds were a kind of chiffchaff. It's worth quoting Lynes' perceptive note more fully: “The only other breeding Phylloscopus (so far as we could find), was by its song, I think anyone would have agreed, a Willow-Warbler; singing males of this species shared the cork-oak glades in about equal proportion as Bonelli's. For a Willow-Warbler, true, the song was unmelodious and disjointed (“tin-potty”, if one may use such an expression), the first two notes jerked out, so that for a moment they might have been put down to an eccentric Chiffchaff, had they not invariably been followed by the four or five notes in descending scale characteristic of the Willow Warbler – in short, if it was a poor Willow-Warbler's song, it was an impossible Chiffchaff's”. It's perhaps unfortunate that Lynes seems to have collected his birds in early June when they would have been at their most worn and least likely to show their greener and yellower plumage. Had his birds shown the recognised traits of a 'good' ibericus then perhaps greater notice would have been taken of his observations (see also https://birdingcadizprovince.weebly.com/cadiz-birding-blog-page/a-mysterious-mosquitero-iberian-chiffchaff ).
John H Stenhouse Another amateur naval ornithologist John Hutton Stenhouse (later Surgeon Rear-Admiral John Hutton Stenhouse) (1865–1931) continued the two great traditions; ornithologist medical men and service personnel stationed on Gibraltar who explored the hinterland for birds. He was stationed there from December 1918 to July 1920 and in 1921 he reported his findings in 'Ibis' (1921) in a paper entitled 'Bird Notes from Southern Spain' – see https://archive.org/stream/ibis311brit#page/572/mode/2up). For a modern birdwatcher his note reveals just how difficult, and different, things were at the early part of the 20th century. First he complained that it was very difficult to get any distance into the country from Gibraltar, presumably due to poor roads and basic modes of transport (cars still being a rarity). He also complained that his studies were hampered from 1920 by enforcement of a law that forbade the use of a gun in the summer although this didn't stop him from shipping 260 'specimens' back to Scotland! However he did manage, with Willoughby Verner's help, to make three visits to La Janda and Sierra Retin. He obviously made good use of his time finding, near Laguna de La Janda in April 1919, one of the first Spanish records of Red-rumped Swallow (preceded only by one claimed by Verner some years earlier and a few others in the 19th century). In 1920 he went one better and discovered the first confirmed record of breeding Red-rumped Swallows for the region; naturally he shot the male! Stenhouse was also one of the first observers to appreciate that Thekla Larks bred at higher elevations than Crested. Unsuprisingly, he was unaware that Common Chiffchaffs were passage and winter visitors to the area and that the local population, now considered a 'full' species, the Iberian Chiffchaff, was a summer visitor. However, he was an acute observer and noted that the song of local chiffchaffs seemed to “change as the summer advances” and gives a good description - 'a double note followed by about five descending notes” - of what we now know to be the Iberian Chiffchaff's song.
F C R Jourdain (left) and H F Witherby Often inspired by Chapman and Buck’s work, many more British ornithologists visited Spain in the century that followed. F C R Jourdain (1865 -1940) went on five expeditions to southern Spain (1905 -1919), but his ‘Birds of Southern Spain’, being unfinished, only covered passerines. William Hutton Riddell (1880 – 1946) published a few notes on the birds of Andalucia, but is better remembered as a fine wildlife artist. Riddell, who rather enviably lived in Arcos de la Frontera’s castle, illustrated several of Chapman’s books (see ‘WH Riddell: Pinto y Naturalista 1880-1946’ Pub 2002). H F Witherby (1873 – 1943), famous as the founder of the journal 'British Birds' and co-author of 'The Handbook of British Birds', also visited Spain. His 'Two Months on the Guadalquivir' (published in five parts in 'Knowledge' magazine 1899) makes interesting reading, not just for the wildlife, but also for the vanished world it describes (see http://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/item/47635#page/26/mode/1up).
Other ornithological notables such as W M Congreve (1883 - 1967), Collingwood Ingram (1810-1981) and G K Yeates (1910-1995) followed. The latter’s “Bird Life in Two Deltas” (1946) was largely based on visits to the Camargue and Coto Doňana in the 1930s; a copy found neglected in a school library, along with Mountfort’s book (see below), inspired the writer of this note to visit both in the early 1970s. Published in 1938, Robert Atkinson’s ‘Quest for the Griffon’ is the entertaining tale of three, rather naive, undergraduates who drove down to Tarifa just before the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. They succeeded in their objective to get close-up photographs of nesting Griffon Vultures, but what would today’s digi-photographers make of the French customs, through which they passed, whose regulations stated that only “two photographic machines and twelve plates” could be imported? Happily the rules were sagely ignored by Atkinson and his friends! Collingwood Ingram, the last of the great “shooting birdwatchers”, visited the area in the 1920s mainly to hunt, but regularly returned in the 1950s and 1960s to watch birds. Wisely, in his later works he omitted his tales of shooting Great Bustards and thrushes! By the early 1950s he was regarded as the British authority on Iberian birds. He too had an interest in the sherry trade.
Other ornithological notables such as W M Congreve (1883 - 1967), Collingwood Ingram (1810-1981) and G K Yeates (1910-1995) followed. The latter’s “Bird Life in Two Deltas” (1946) was largely based on visits to the Camargue and Coto Doňana in the 1930s; a copy found neglected in a school library, along with Mountfort’s book (see below), inspired the writer of this note to visit both in the early 1970s. Published in 1938, Robert Atkinson’s ‘Quest for the Griffon’ is the entertaining tale of three, rather naive, undergraduates who drove down to Tarifa just before the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. They succeeded in their objective to get close-up photographs of nesting Griffon Vultures, but what would today’s digi-photographers make of the French customs, through which they passed, whose regulations stated that only “two photographic machines and twelve plates” could be imported? Happily the rules were sagely ignored by Atkinson and his friends! Collingwood Ingram, the last of the great “shooting birdwatchers”, visited the area in the 1920s mainly to hunt, but regularly returned in the 1950s and 1960s to watch birds. Wisely, in his later works he omitted his tales of shooting Great Bustards and thrushes! By the early 1950s he was regarded as the British authority on Iberian birds. He too had an interest in the sherry trade.
| This brief account takes us up to the publication of the first European field guide in 1954 so does not include the fifth inspirational book on the wildlife of Spain - “Portrait of a Wilderness” (1958) which describes three expeditions to the Coto Doňana. This is rather apt since all three authors of that guide, Roger Tory Peterson, P A D Hollom and Guy Mounfort, all took part in the first expedition in 1952 when the proofs of their book were given a final check. The story of the three expeditions and their influence is worth an entire article of its own …… |  |
RSS Feed
