Tales of Mel The Story of an Ibizan Hound

By Don C Andrews

"Tales of Mel” tells the tale of Mel, a male Ibiza Hound puppy who was originally given as a gift to my friend Raphael Sainz, who rapidly became an aficionado, and then a breeder of this amazing canine race. Mel was not himself a pedigree animal, but was the founder of a proud pedigree line through his grand-daughter Baltasara.
This is a very special book about an individual dog (Mel), and a breed that at the time was believed to be descended from the hunting dogs of the Egyptian pharaohs. Subsequent genetic research has cast doubt on this hypothesis, but the case for an Egyptian ancestry and the link to Ibiza via the Phoenicians is elegantly laid out within these pages.
Rafael Sainz was a lawyer from Madrid, but with very close ties to Ibiza from the 1930’s onwards. He retired to Ibiza in the late 1980s, and Mel was his first Ibizan hound. The book follows Mel's life, and indeed finishes with his death. It also reveals a whole panorama of life on Ibiza before the tourist industry took over. Rafael takes us on walks, on hunting expeditions and on rambles into the often turbulent history of the island, from the first arrival of the Phoenicians through the Spanish Civil War and into the modern day. If you wish to understand the Ibizan hound, this book is essential reading.
I include a copy of the cover material. It shows a ghostly face of an Ibiza hound superimposed on one of the many Phoenician sites on the island in the shadow of the Es Vedra rock, one of Ibiza’s iconic landmarks. The history of the dog and the history of the island are inseparably intertwined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Don C Andrews
• Release date: Oct 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370414840

Don C Andrews

Don C. Andrews was the Editor of the Ibiza Now magazine (in English) from 1989-2000 and the Ibiza Heute (German) from 1992-2000. He has worked with the Diario de Ibiza newspaper on several different projects, including a daily page of news in English during one summer and the translation of the annual tourist guide into English for several years running. He has an extensive archive of photos from Ibiza.He speaks Spanish, German, Catalan, French and occasionally tries to converse in Russian – to the bemusement of any Russian people he happens to meet. He translated the book Tales of Mel from Spanish to English, and is currently working on an online edition of this book. He has had articles published in three different languages in various Ibiza publications. He has appeared on television in Catalan and German, and taken part in various radio programmes in German and Spanish.He had always thought somebody else would write a book about life on Ibiza in the 1980's, and is rather surprised to find that the job appears to have been left to him.He is a fully-qualified teacher of science, but also teaches mathematics, modern languages, computing and other subjects too numerous to mention. He is currently working as a teacher of mathematics.Chilling out in Ibiza is his first full-length book, although a second one is already in the pipeline, and he is currently preparing a work on the joys of desktop publishing in Ibiza. He looks forward one day to publishing a book featuring some of the works of his friend Nito Verdera about the explorer Cristobál Colón, who, he believes was born on Ibiza.When not writing or teaching, Don enjoys reading in English, Spanish and German, long walks in the countryside, bird watching, taking part in quizzes, cookery and playing the guitar. He hopes to visit Ibiza more frequently if his literary career takes off.

Book preview

Dedicated to my grandchildren:

Beatriz, Borja, Clara, Irene, Luis

and those who have yet to arrive

During the course of my obligatory daily walks (taken on the advice of my doctor) in the countryside of Ibiza near the town of Santa Eulalia del Río, my inseparable companion and the ceaseless guardian of my prescription has been my dog Mel. During the long silences of the daily stroll, he has been my only companion.

It began as a hobby, and became part of the therapy: on returning home I would write down the memories and the stories that had come to mind during the course of the walk. My internal dialogue took place on three levels: with the animal present and my grandchildren absent, I continued the narrative as a story for children.

Dear reader, do not look here for a work of scientific rigour, a historically accurate document or a souvenir aimed at the tourist market: this is simply the entertaining fruit of a well-shared solitude.

Rafael Sainz

Translator's Prologue

It was through the novelist Alan White that I first came to know Raphael Sainz. Alan had apparently offered to translate his friend’s book into English, but in the end had suggested that I might do a better job of it. I was not initially very keen, as I already had a busy job editing the Ibiza Now and the Ibiza Heute, the island’s newspapers in English and German. However, as I briefly read through the book, I could see that Rafael’s book was impressively researched and well written, and would appeal to an English market with a few modifications.

So there is a bit of deliberate anglicising in this translation. The framework, though is all built around Rafael Sainz. I could see from the start that the book looks at things in a way I personally would never have thought of. I have just tried to make it more understandable and more readable for an English audience. The result is the book you see before you.

Rafael Sainz had a connection to Ibiza throughout his life. He knew the island very well, and knew many of the island’s leading personalities. He was a meticulous researcher and was friendly with many of the islands leading academics, as well as others from all walks of life. The result of all this is obvious in his book.

His father, Rafael Sainz de la Cuesta, also had a profound love of the island. He realized that the archaeological heritage of the island was in danger of being destroyed and dissipated, and began collecting historical artefacts, largely to prevent them from disappearing into private collections. At the end of his life, he donated his collection to the Ibiza Archaeological Museum, where it can be seen to this day.

Rafael, his son, inherited his father's love for the traditions of the island, and became particularly attached to the Podenco breed, and to his own family of hounds, which encompassed both smooth- and rough-haired varieties. Above all, his love for his own dogs shines through, as well as his love for the Podenco breed. He is able to communicate with academics and hunters alike, giving us all a unique insight into a special breed of dog – and I feel privileged to have been able to bring it to life in English.

Since the book was first published, science has cast doubt on the Egyptian pedigree of the Podenco. Certainly in Ibiza it is a common belief that the dogs came to the islands with the Phoenicians when they traded throughout the Mediterranean, and this seems to fit in well with the island’s long-standing verbal traditions, as this book recounts very well.

I had intended initially to re-write the book, to take these changes into account, but this would have changed it so completely that it would not really have been Raphael's book any more, and that, I felt, would have been a shame. So, as you read this volume, please do bear in mind that recent genetic studies appear to show that the Podenco is not an ancient breed of dog, dating back to the time of the pharaohs, but the result of a breeding program going back only a few hundred years. This result stands in complete contradiction with tradition, the historical records referred to in this book and a sizeable body of other works: maybe future genetic studies will throw further light on this mystery, but for now I shall leave Rafael to speak with his own voice, about theories that were certainly credible at the time he was writing.

I think it is a brilliant book, and I feel privileged to have taken part in bringing this translation to life in English. I hope that you enjoy it as well, and hope that you will find a greater understanding of an elegant and well-adapted breed of dog – the star of the book, the Podenco Ibicenco, Cà Eivissenc or Ibizan Hound.

Chapter One

A statue of Anubis from the tomb of Tutankhamun (original photo by Jon Bodsworth)

On hearing the wishes of the voice, the great priest – head lowered in an posture of respect and devotion, arms crossed in front of his chest, the hands resting with the tips of his fingers touching his shoulders – left the room, backing slowly away through the door, which closed before him as soon as he had crossed the threshold. He turned quickly and crossed the long columned hallway with broad strides.

He left the hallway through a small door to one side, and continued down the outside staircase, which led directly to the stable yard. He gave an affirmative signal to the guard, alert as always, to his duty. Without pausing, the great priest passed on through to the next patio, where a man waited anxiously in a kneeling position. His posture indicated a subordinate status, but he carried a large conch shell as a symbol of his authority. The man, despite his humble bearing had an air of serene dignity, and received the one-word order from his superior with apparent satisfaction: Tomorrow.

Before sunrise the following day, ten light hunting chariots could be seen lined up on the grand courtyard in front of the palace. A noble black horse stood alertly between the shafts of each one. Behind these stood ten heavier chariots, each pulled by two paired white horses attached to the central shaft. Each vehicle was driven by a charioteer who held the reins in one hand and wielded a whip in the other. In each of the light chariots, next to the charioteer, stood a spear thrower with a javelin in his hand. Two archers stood in each of the heavier chariots.

At the head of the procession, the magnificent royal chariot carried a quiver on each side. The quiver on the right contained arrows, the one on the left spears. It was pulled by a single charger, controlled with great strength by the trusted royal charioteer.

On either side of the chariot formation, which stood in the centre of the courtyard, were another series of luxurious vehicles, each one complemented by a pair of marvellous horses whose grooms bore the distinctive decorations of rank and honour of their masters, and who handled the reins with easy mastery.

From the lateral staircases which led down to the courtyard the various dignitaries of the palace, places rigidly determined by rank, observed the spectacle. They were all waiting for the royal appearance. The central staircase, according to protocol, had been covered by a purple carpet.

Preceded by his personal bodyguard and accompanied by the closest advisors of the court, seated on his throne which was borne on high by forty bearers, He entered. He was accompanied by four bearers, who cooled him with fans made from gigantic ostrich feathers. The procession progressed at a steady rhythm marked out by drums. The Living God, the Pharaoh, entered, and all heads bowed in reverence.

He was accompanied by effigies of Isis – the Goddess of fertility and of the hunt – and Anubis – the Jackal God –who guards the entrance to eternity. He is also the father of all hunting dogs, which the Egyptians believed to have been created to satisfy the needs of all the Gods – and above all the living God himself, because only the Pharaoh was allowed to keep and to use them.

Silver horns sounded, announcing the appearance of the Lord of Lords, of the Living God, at exactly the moment that the Father Sun appeared above the horizon. He was little more than a boy, normally sad and apathetic; but today he seems happy, eager and relaxed. At last, after examining the entrails of some sacred animal sacrificed especially for the occasion, the High Priests had predicted that this day would be a auspicious one for the Lord, the Pharaoh, to go out hunting.

He climbed quickly into his chariot and took the reins from the hands of his faithful servant, who had known him since the day he was born. He gave a signal. The gates opened, and the one hundred royal hunting dogs entered: the dogs that He and only He was allowed to own, look after and use for hunting.

They entered the courtyard, chained together in pairs, and then in groups of ten. In front of all of them walked the man with the conch shell – the Royal Kennel Master – who, standing before his God, sounded a long and deep maritime note on his conch, awaiting permission to proceed. He knew that the success or failure of the day depended upon him and the dogs.

The Pharaoh gave the signal. After a short march into the desert, the dogs, still controlled by their grooms, spread out and started work – the only kind of work they knew. At first, they moved slowly and painstakingly, covering a wide arc through the dunes. The day before, the beaters had discovered roughly where the prey was to be found.

Suddenly, the dogs become agitated, indicating a trail. They remained silent, however. Then the Pharaoh gave the signal to order the release of the dogs. The man with the conch made a signal ordering the grooms to release the dogs. They began to trot, with their characteristic gait – the most elegant form of canine motion.

Soon they broke into a gallop, floating above the desert sand, and a little later they yelped with happiness – a special bark that told the hunters that the dogs have discovered their prey and were pursuing it. The object of their attention was a group of desert gazelles – the fastest and most agile herbivore known.

The hunt was on. This is one of the moments of greatest tension and expectation known to sport; the onlookers followed and admired the grace of the feints and leaps of the gazelles in the dunes; observing the tenacity and cunning of the pursuit by the dogs; continuing to watch the drama, getting as close as possible to the action without falling from the vehicle.

The dogs managed to isolate one gazelle from the group. Several of the hounds continued to pursue it. The gazelle had the edge in terms of speed, but tiredness and confusion began to tell. It lost its sense of direction and began to run randomly in different directions. The dogs began to anticipate its movements, closing off all routes and preventing its escape. Finally they closed in around it; but the gazelle, slim and graceful, jumped over the pack and attempted to flee. It looked for a moment as if it had succeeded and surprised them all.

But one dog, which appeared to have been left behind, also leaped, clearing the pack and catching the gazelle in mid air. It lost its equilibrium, and both animals fell to the ground: but the gazelle did not rise again. The dogs surrounded it: but none of them touched the prey. The first chariot, driven by the young Pharaoh, pulled up. He dexterously threw a single javelin, which killed the gazelle. The whole scene took place in complete silence, apart from the beating hearts of the participants and the panting of the animals.

Then the conch shell sounded once more, and the chariots regrouped; the dogs began to spread out again and the hunt began anew. With very few words and with lowered voices, the trophies were collected: these included the head, skin and meat of the dead animal. Only the sound of the marine conch announced man's dangerous presence and reminded all within earshot that he was the Lord of the desert expanse.

And so the day continued: the same sequence of events was repeated many times, until all were tired and content with the day's sport. They returned home slowly and happily, singing with gratitude to the Gods who were gracious and also singing the praises of those who had distinguished themselves in the chase; they detailed the virtues of the God-Pharaoh and those of his Lords; and they extolled the number and quality of the trophies gained. They were accompanied by the sound of various musical instruments – percussion, string and wind – playing the traditional Melodies which everybody knew.

The dogs were the ones who received the immediate attention and who were immediately rewarded. This task was supervised, with a great deal of petting and fuss, by the kennel master. Already the names of the bravest, fastest and most cunning dogs were known. The scribes noted their names and their deeds on papyrus sheets, which were stored, together with similar accounts of previous hunts.

In this way the best dogs were continually selected for their bravery and attractive appearance. Those which were especially regarded had their images engraved in the walls of the Pharaoh's funereal monument, which was already being constructed, so that they could accompany their Lord and Master for ever, on the one-way journey into the Valley of Shadows. This was the greatest of all possible honours for the chosen dogs. It was a custom that the best dog of them all, which was regarded as the living Anubis should be painted on the lintel of the secret door leading to the royal chamber, next to a text which read:

Oh, Living Anubis, you will lead me

Along the path through the Forbidden Valley.

Oh, Anubis, make it come to pass

As the eternal laws ordain:

As your great grandfather led my father,

As your great grandson will lead my son.

Only after three long millennia was this inscription deciphered.

The sport of hunting should not be thought of as killing for the sake of killing. The leaders of the old civilization knew this, 5,000 years ago. It consists basically of the watching and remembering of grand events of heroic splendour, the brave and graceful gestures, the use of intelligence to resolve a difficult situation. It requires the improvisation of sudden reactions, which will be recorded forever in the minds of the onlookers with admiration and respect.

This is the story of the legend and of the circumstances of the dog of the pharaohs, which has survived through the millennia and has remained with us until the present day, with all of its individuality and magnificent purity. The breed has been conserved in the Balearic Islands, specifically on the island of Ibiza. It is known in Spanish as the Podenco Ibicenco; in Ibicenco, the language of the island, it is called the Cà eivissenc.

The breed is known equally by these two different names to the Federation Cynologique Internationale, which has its headquarters in Brussels, and is the highest authority worldwide for regulating the conservation and promotion of pure canine breeds in those countries that are affiliated.

Chapter Two

The New Arrival

This particular day dawned as many before: it was early one spring morning on the island of Ibiza, and the time crept by slowly. I was sitting on my porch, reading quietly, with a tranquil sense of the continuity of life, following my carefully conceived plan. I had just retired after nearly forty years of working in the capital city of Madrid.

But everything suddenly changed with the arrival of a car, which laboriously negotiated the steeply sloping track leading to the finca (farmhouse) in which I lived. It finally reached its destination and came to a halt before the house. My old friend Tito and two other men jumped rapidly from the vehicle, without saying a word. They opened