Hunting Roe Deer With Golden Eagles In Spain

Just a quick one this morning. Mainly for Steve Bodio, but you might like it too.

Big birds, Small deer. WOW

For more about our little european deer HERE

For more videos [also in Spanish] HERE

More soon
SBW

On A Spanish Hillside

In the campo, where we've been staying since crimbo its all been a bit of a drag really Mr Proper has come to visit and he and Elfa have fallen out, she's now in an almost permanent grump, he won't stop needling her. Being a semi-pro martyr I have positioned myself between them to catch any incoming fire before it hits its intended target. But there is a silver lining to this dark cloud.....

I'm up and at it, not hunter o'clock or even builder o'clock, but early enough that I'm out of the door on my own. Down the street, cross the road, past stop off at the bar and on to the dirt road out into the campo. This is as they say where the magic happens!


This is Alicante, but not as I know it. For me Alicante is semi-dessert; gnarled olives set amongst scrub, weird ant nests (?) rabbit poo, and an erie silence where there would normally be birdsong.
I think these fascinating holes are the entrances to Ant nests, not that I've ever seen the occupants come and go.

This is Spain so my morning constitutional features a Carajillo at the bar, not the best Carajillo I've ever had, more a cafe solo with a shot of brandy so I'll leave further description to another day when we can celebrate a better example. What the bar does have that's worth a mention is this novel stove.

Hopper on the left, chimney on the right, tiny firebox connecting the two, the firebox can be that small as the flue extends to well over head height, and then runs most of the length of the room giving out a not inconsiderable whack of heat.

I was wondering about the stove and its relatively small hopper, I have a cousin who has a woodturner that is run on pellets, but I can't see the campisino's  paying to have wood ground up. It turns out they are fuelled by Almond shells. 

Out of the back of the bar, and wending my way up the hill I pass several small terraced olive groves. Here the hills roll away to rocky crags, and its green. Grass grows between the olive trees, caca di conejo lies around in fuel-source quantities and wonder of wonders a wild Perdiz (partridge) whirrs past. Elfa's dad has it that there aren't any more wild partridge due to the desertification, but this is a green Alicante. Its so green you could have a lawn if you were so inclined.

On one of the terraces I stumbled upon this wonderful specimen

At the base it must have been 20ft in circumference, I'm guessing 300+ years old, hopefully a more educated reader will be along to let us know if I'm in the right ballpark?

The next find is one I wasn't expecting, Acorns. But not as I know them, I feel sure I've seen this species before somewhere. So I snaffle a kilo or so just in case.
When I get back to WIFI (which in Spain is pronounced 'wiffy' ) it turns out I have seen them before, and having brought them home to Blighty I even have a plan for what to do with them.

I could bore you with further tales of spousal bickering, but I'm boring myself so we'll fast forward to other adventures that have taken place since we made it home and made up.

More soon
Your pal
SBW

It's Here! SBW 2.0 Can Commence!!

I wanted you to be the first to know. This morning, just as we were having our morning warm-up argument, the door bell rang the post and I had a confusing conversation with the Postie, my guess is that my pronunciation has improved, as people seem disappointed when my understanding hits the brickwall, in retrospect I think he was complaining that the floor number hadn't been included in the address.

Hostility's ceased for the grand opening, and a box full of new toys were revealed. Woo Hooo!!!

More news and the Unboxing review to follow, my breakfast is getting cold.
Festive wishes from your much happier pal
SBW

Christmas, Bow-Less, In Spain

Happy Crimbo blog people, sorry for the dearth of posts lately I've been - er, waiting for the postman.

Let me explain: After an intensive period of putting a shift in at The Goblin King's place I was all set to spend Crimbo with my kids and fly out to Spain for the NewYear and Kings Day.
Oh the schemes I cooked up, the plans I had! It was all going SO well. 

"If you want to make the hunting goddess laugh - post your plans online"

Ancient Spanish Proverb

"What are you doing for Crimbo SBW?" 

"I shall be practicing archery by day, and writing my memoirs by night"

"Really where?"

"Elfa has borrowed a house in the sierra, its going to be great, might even be some Conejo"

"Is that a euphemism?"

"With a bit of luck"

It was all going so well: Gave up smoking and after a year had saved a small fortune, Made peace with Ex Mrs SBW so spending crimbo with her and the kids. With some of the money saved I ordered a hopefullly badass compound bow, sorted shipping in plenty of time for the bow to be delivered to Elfa in Spain before I even get there. So far so excellent!

He said.

Ex Mrs SBW's brother dumps his girlfriend, again, but keeps her and her kids tickets, so Ex Mrs SBW gets a free Christmas skiing holiday for her and our kids. 

Christmas Day, all watching Doctor Who together, now cancelled.

I book a much more expensive flight but agree to travel to airport with Ex and Kids-some money recouped. Fail to check temperature in Spain before packing and in doing so inadvertantly provoke the mockery of the gods. 

I set off to meet the kids feeling pretty sure all the grief is behind me. On arrival Bushwacker Jnr announces he feels tricked and is very concerned that a 'proper' christmas lunch won't be available. The Littlest Bushwacker hates her mum, but ever the pragmatist, will put that to one side for skiing. The Ex Mrs SBW has gone to bed in a huff. So far so Christmasy.

At the airport I see the amusing sight of my former brother-in-law with his moody sister on one side,  his moody now on-again girlfriend on the other side and assorted offspring standing around awkwardly. "Cheerio! Have Fun!!"

It's bloody freezing in Spain, I'm totally inappropriately dressed for it. Elfa's plan to order furniture and have it assembled by her brothers has come to nowt. We must go to Ikea NOW. We have traditional massive row in Ikea's carpark. Much to the amusement of smirking Spanish brother in-law.

I don't know if you know this, it came as a surprise to me, but ikea's furniture is perishable. Exactly who knew! So it has to be assembled, as soon as its through the door. The very second. Still I keep telling myself, my bow will arrive in the morning and I'll be free to play with it.

Get up and check tracking. Finland's rigorously efficient postal service email me to announce my box left their jurisdiction slightly ahead of schedule. Defending silence from the Spanish postal service. Lots more furniture assembly later. More defending silence from the Spanish postal service and no sign of the postie. 

Elfa's family home is a converted office block, it was built as a showroom and office space in a hot country. No insulation, no central heating. Acres of tiles, cold hard tiles. Half of the floor is fully decorated, furnished and quite warm. We live in the other bit. We huddle around a propane fire. Me, forlornly checking my email, Elfa keeping up a running commentary of things that may or may not have happened to my bow in the post.

The Spanish posties have stolen your bow, with this Crisis they are so desperate they wanna hunt christmas lunch with it, then when they found out how early you get up, they sold it for a few drinks

Drinks, Food, more Drinks. Spain can often seem like a never ending meal. Even their junk food is delicious. Drinks are about 30% of the prices in London. We stagger from bar to relatives house to bar. Since I gave up Elfa is now smoking for two so we sit outside, patio heaters are apparently illegal in Spain, its freezing. There is no sign of my bow.

Christmas morning dawns; the post won't come today, there is nothing more I can do. I give Elfa her prezzie, she tells me she didn't get me one. A relative has given us Christmas Night in a Luxury 4 Star hotel. Elfa briefly tries to claim its a present to me from her. Happy Christmas.

We set off for the four star resort. The drive takes us a few hundred meters closer to sea level, its a bit warmer. The Crisis means there are lots of abandoned building sites where half finished hotels are crumbling. We see one that looks open or at least recently open, we rock up and its our place. Four Stars mi culo! This is the last resort.  It's terrible and even colder than the house/office block, the bed is like a box of rocks and the bed's covers are for a Mediterranean summer's night. There is very little hot water. The promised 'Fine Dining' is available only at the vending machine. In fact 'things' in general are only available at the vending machine.  Wifi is sporadic at best. I keep checking the tracking. There is no sign of my bow. 

Back at the casa I'm now reduced to plaintive emailing. The fella I bought the bow from in Finland is willing enough but unable to do anything to help. No tracking information is available, its really cold. We walk to the post office - to warm up as much as anything - its shut, not just for the day but forever. There is no sign of my bow. We've still not left for the house in the sierra, I seem to have gained an enormous amount of weight, or so Elfa persists in telling me. Her mockery the only thing punctuating the deafening silence from the Spanish postal service. Did I mention There is no sign of my bow. 

Don't worry, I'd be laughing if this were happening to you. I hope you're all warm and well fed and that at least the present you bought yourself was delivered and as you'd want it. 

Your Pal

SBW

Tapas In Valencia: Tasca Angel

Sea Snails con Nails

I've not been posting much lately as other projects have been getting in the way, one of them had me visiting Valencia with Elfa.  

We stayed with Mr & Mrs Spainglish a couple Elfa is friends with, "You're going to love them, they are like you about foodieness, just not fat. Like you"

Mrs Spainglish (the English half), who has lived in the city for about thirteen years, warmly recommends Tasca Angel for authentic tapa, and it didn't disappoint. Obviously we ate all the weird things on the menu, Eels: good but a bit expensive, Brains: the best I've ever had, likewise the Sardines, and the Snails con Nails were amazing, but they sell less carpetovetónica food too. It's only about five minutes walk from the Mercado Central, which if you're not visiting you may as well not bother going to Valencia. 

Carrer de la Puríssima, 1 46001 Valencia València, Spain‎ +34 963 91 78 35

Your host, I wish I could tell you his taste in music was as good as his tapas.
If you like 80's power ballads with your tapas you're in luck!

Enjoy

SBW

Conversations In Gun Shops Pt2

Myself and the BLF (bloody lady foreigner) have been in spain for the past few days visiting her folks for Navidad and Año Nuevo. It's been a lot of fun being brand-new, stuffing my face with all kinds of delicious pork products and trying to learn to speak Spanish. There hangs a tale: I've been learning my Spanish from BLF (bloody lady foreigner), which has weighted my vocabulary in 'certain directions' as she swears for the Spanish national team.

One afternoon having eaten all kinds of wonderful things she suggests we walk off a few calories with a visit to the Armeria. I'm fascinated by gun shops and the strange nonsense you hear from characters on both sides of the counter. Gun shops are also the first port of call to learn about the local hunting culture, and as so much about hunting is numerical or made up of familier concepts, it could also be the chance to practice my Spanish, so we wander down there.

Gun Shops the world over all follow certain themes, and they are also a window into the local conditions and traditions. In Alicante the clothes are a bit lighter for the rainless plains of Spain, the locals favor a lightweight boot over our warm and waterproof boots but mostly its the same kind of stuff you'd see in your local gun shop from London to Loudon county.

Unlike the green north this Spain is a land of long dry plains and dusty jagged ridge lines - only just greener than the set of a spagetti western. Hunting here takes place over large distances; running Hares down with rapid longdogs called Galgo, an extencive tradition of Falconry, they are serious about hunting conejo (rabbits) but the real obsession is the Red-Legged Partridge, or 'Perdiz'. The rich guys use the same driven game tactics as in the UK, the country folk or 'campesino'  hunt them over dogs during very long walks. To reduce the distances walked, and as Partridges can't be eaten after they've been shot with a high velocity rifle, the locals hunt them in a style of hunting I'd not seen before.

If you can't get to the prey, you must get the prey to come to you. 

The armeria stocks the kit for 'Reclamo'; hanging above the counter were several models of 'Reclamo' a sort-of 'Judas Trap' for Partridges. The plan is to capture or breed a mature male bird, house him in a portable birdhouse, which you can take to the hunting ground and have him call the girls to your waiting gun. Saves on all that walking.

By the time all this had been explained to me the BLF's patience with being my personal google translate was wearing a little thin, so I resorted to talking cartridge choices with the shopkeep. Pretty easy in any language, numbers are numbers, Remington and Winchester are the same in any language, even for people who are in the habit of adding or missing out vowels from words. I dont know my letters yet so I wrote on the back of a business card, remembering to start the question with the upside down question mark, enquiring after the whereabouts of the bunny-whacker of choice the 17HMR, "22 minimum" came the reply to which I thought I said "that's unfortunate in England we use them to hunt rabbits" Elfa and the gun shop guys blushing faces told me I'd actually missed out the 'e' and said "that's unfortunate in England we use them to hunt c***o" which sounds similar-ish, but means something very different.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

More soon

SBW