The Biosbardo

For Rocío

Daniel Campo was hurrying to work when he ran - literally - into Lavinia. Both of them looked slightly embarrassed, since it wasn’t clear whose fault it had been. They had really collided, and their umbrellas had jostled perilously in the pouring rain. As they got tangled up, with sharp umbrella points, packages, and tote bags, they came face to face, very close, and stopped. 

They were smack in the middle of the little plaza known as O Toral, or according to folk etymology, O Toural. The first version of the name refers to how vendors many years ago brought firewood to sell to the city folk and used that intimate space, with several streets starting or ending in it, all pointing right at the nondescript, but friendly, fountain. The second version of the name suggests a place where livestock owners would tie up touros or bulls brought in from villages to sell. One might well be skeptical that the huge, fierce animals that bulls usyally are would consent to being tied up, let alone in a small square with lots of people hovering about. Still...

“Uf! Sorry!” Daniel barked, not meaning for his words to come out like that. He hadn’t expected to see her at that time of day, nor had Lavinia been thinking about him. Both had such a look of surprise at the chance encounter that, as they stopped dead in their tracks, they burst out laughing. It was a good response to the inhospitable weather. Some days even the most die-hard fans of Santiago ask themselves if they are mad to live in such a climate. I know, because I've asked myself the same question.

“Where are you headed?” inquired Lavinia without thinking.

“To the archives, to work. I’m gathering documentation on the monastery of San Martiño Pinario, which has just been declared of cultural interest, un Ben de Interese Cultural, a Cultural Interest Asset, by UNESCO,” was the reply. “I’ve been asked to write an article on it for Nós Diario for next week. That means I've got lots of ground to cover. It's a huge building and historically there's so much to write about that would fill volumes. I'll have to be very selective.”

Lavinia was interested, especially because of her visits to sit and study the statue of Santa Escolástica. She thought the designation was well-deserved, given the building’s good state of preservation, the items it contained, and, of course, her personal fondness for the fourth-century saint from Nursia who was associated with education. Momentarily she envied Daniel his position, his profession, but flicked the thought away like the rivulets of rain pounding on her elbows, which the umbrella didn’t fully cover. She did ask a few questions, even if she rrisked being drowned along with her friend, as buckets of water poured down around them.

"When was it built?"

"Well, it was begun at the end of the sixteenth century."

"Who built it?"

"It was for the Benedictine Order."

"I've been there, several times, but don't know how large it actually is. It seems pretty big, what with the high ceilings, the chapels, the museum. And the chorus is stunning."

Daniel looked pleased. San Martiño didn't often capture the eyes of foreign visitors, because a good portion was the staid Renaissance and Baroque style. He told Lavinia something she hadn't expected:

"It covers about twenty thousand square meters. That makes it the second largest construction of its kind in Spain, after El Escorial." Admittedly, he winced as he said 'Spain', because many Galicians do not like to think of thesemselves as Spanish, despite what it says on their passports. To them, their country was Galicia, period.

Daniel was looking at Lavinia, still smiling, as rain drops dripping from his dark eyelashes. Then suddenly the foreigner, who wasn’t an archivist (although she was the daughter of one as I've been told), suddenly felt at a loss for words, because she heard him say:

“I’m in a hurry to get to work and running late because I had to take care of my biosbardos before I headed out.” The smile had not melted a bit in the drenching weather. Lavinia thought he looked all the better for that.

“What’s a biosbardo?” Asked Lavinia, who recalled having heard the term once, in a passing comment by one of her friends. She'd heard it, but that was all. Everybody seemed to know what they were, so nobody stopped to talk about them. They just showed up in a conversation and disappeared.

“You don’t know?” Eyes glimmered, but it was hard to tell the cause, given the weather, the clumsy umbrellas, and the surrounding chatter of rushing locals who were smart enough not to stop in the middle of the torrential rain and hold a conversation.

“No, what is it?” Lavinia was intrigued, and Daniel could tell.

“I can’t explain it to you now, but if you’ve got time around eight o’clock, we can meet in that café - Daniel pointed to a place called A Esmorga - and I’ll explain. Biosbardos are very special, and are native to Galicia. You will definitely want to see one while you’re here.”

Lavinia groaned inwardly, because there was already so much she wanted, needed, to see while she was there that her original research was in quite a precarious situation. However, there was no way she could turn down the invitation. She liked Daniel’s company (she was actually not fond of many men), however, and decided she could go work on her own research while he did his. Each went his or her way, and while reading a book in the library of the Museo do Pobo Galego, she forgot about the animal she had never seen. Well, almost forgot, because from time to time, as she sat alone in the extensive library with its polished wood paneling, she thought about biosbardos and tried to conjure up what they might be or where one found them. To her credit, when she found her mind wandering, she pulled it back and slogged through a few more pages of the heavy tome on one of the exhibits that had been organized on Anderson's photographs.

Afternoons in the Museo's library always flew by, and soon Lavinia found herself packing up her things, heading to the umbrella rack to pick up the umbrella that had, miraculously, managed to dry out, and walking down the steps toward the heart of the city again. Her curiosity had definitely been piqued by Daniel's promise. He had not stood her up, for when she arrived at A Esmorga - I'm not certain if she knew enough about Galician literature to know that was the name of a famous novel - he was sitting at a tiny table along one side, waiting for her. They both ordered café con leite descafeinado.

"So, if you don't mind, what exactly is a biosbardo?" queried Lavinia.

"Well, if you don't mind" - Daniel echoed her phrase - "they're also known as gazafellos, cazarellos or cazabellos." His listener shook her head. None of those names made sense.

"Where do they live?" She imagined he'd say somewhere in the woods or fields surrounding Santiago. Most animals don't have a city as a natural habitat.

"Supposedly they live in the forests," - Lavinia smiled at having guessed correctly - "and people go looking for them or go around thinking about them."

This was more or less an answer, but it did not distract her from the fact that Daniel had not yet told her what they were. His English was very good, but he did not offer an immediate translation. He just gave her more names to trip her tongue up. He must have known how much she enjoyed that.

And then he was back at it, expanding her vocabulary in the Galician language. The expansion may or may not have been useful, because Lavinia wasn't sure how much she needed to know about one mysterious little animal, but she was polite. I'm glad for that, because you learn a lot in Galicia when you listen politely.

"In some parts, they're also known as cachafellos, cazbellos, cazarellos, cocerellos, cozorellos, gazafellos, cozochas, or cozochos. Oh, and some people also call them cotofellos or cotovelos."

Lavinia's head was spinning. She hadn't started out the conversation thinking it'd be necessary to take notes, but now she pulled out a pen and paper and had him repeat all the names. By now there were almost a dozen. Daniel must know she was dying for a description, maybe even hoping he'd show her the one he had, the one that had made him late leaving his house earlier that afternoon.

"They live in the river as well as up in the hills, near trees."

That definitely did not narrow things down. Then Lavinia heard him say:

"Normally it's easier to find them on nights when there's a frost."

That made sense. They might leave more tracks then.

"Oh, and some people call them pibardos or pigarzos."

More than a dozen names for the little biosbardo, now. At least Lavinia assumed they were little. 

Now Daniel was saying:

"I lost my biosbardo, and I have to catch it because they are scarce. You have to hunt or fish afor them at night, using a gunnysack, a canvas bag, or something strong."

He continued, explaining that they could to the nearby Sar River, or the Sarela, over by the old tanning factories on one side of Santiago. Lavinia knew that area as well, having gone for a long stroll one day when the sun was out, not a damp day like today. There were signs posted that explained the history of that area, the tanneries, the vegetation. It would be very different at night. Still, she was curious, and she didn't worry about going out there with Daniel. I could have told her it was safe, too.

After a quick stop by both Daniel and Lavinia to change into warmer clothing, and to grab a cloth sack, they met again by the park along the little river (which was really more like a healthy stream). There were a few floodlights in that part, although there wouldn't be many further along, so each had brought a flashlight. At least the day had rained itself out and the evening was dry. They'd opted to leave the umbrellas behind so as to be able to move more quickly, should a biosbardo appear. Lavinia still didn't know if they were going to search further up, on a wooded slope, or if they were actually going to wade into the water.

The two did little talking as they walked in the strong, glistening moonlight, eyes darting from water to pines and oaks framed by the massive Santiago sky. Lavinia briefly thought about Ruth Matild Anderson and her work, then decided she didn't want her along trying to set up photographic equipment in the dark. It was a simple night, perfect for musing. She didn't even try to maintain a conversation with Daniel and had faith in him as a guide.

The couple had walked a considerable distance, and the water's flow had been transformed into something more gentle. Mossy stones, rounded on the edges and flattened on top, were sometimes visible beneath what Galicians called luar, and Lavinia knew was an absolutely mischievous, dreamy sort of illumination. Maine was famous for its indigo skies in winter, but Santiago had its luar and there was nothing like it. It wasn't romantic - what a way to kill the mood - it was simply suggestive of everything that had been there forever.

"You need to go out into the middle of the stream and hold the sack like this," Daniel was explaining, and illustrating how to grip the edges of the heavy fabric so it wouldn't be washed away by the current. Lavinia tried it, first on land. It looked easy, but she wasn't sure how skilled she would be at fetching a biosbardo when she was in midstream and had cold water rushing past, even though the real rapids were further back. She'd caught little crabs and other aquatic animals as a little girl living close to Ganargua Creek, better known as Mud Crick to the locals. Still, she'd known what she was likely to find back then, and the biosbardo might be some flopping, flailing fish that would coome sailing at her, nicking her with its fins.

But was a biosbardo a fish? Other sorts of animals lived in the water and if you coould could hunt for them on land, then it couldn't be a fish. Lavinia was still clueless, not just because Daniel hadn't given her a translation, but because all he had done was give her too many names to remember - she didn't doubt the many names were real, ones somebody used in some part of Galicia - and to insist the capturing had to be done at night.

So here they were. At night. Searching.

"Go on! Into the water with you!" Daniel was saying, but it didn't sound like an order. I suspect there was a slight smirk on his face, too.

Lavinia waded in, grippiing her rough canvas sack tightly. She wasn't afraid. She simply didn'y know what to do, how to stand, or bend, or twist. She didn't know where to look. All she knew was that she was trying to catch a biosbardo. If I do catch one, I certainly won't keep it. I'll let it go. I just want to see what it looks like. She merely thought this, buut said nothing. Daniel was watching closely.

"You need help. I might not be the best teacher, because I had to go looking for mine today, but I'll try," he told her, and waded into the water to her side. She wasn't sure that was necessary, but felt a bit less silly not being the only one in the stream looking for a mysterious animal.

Then - and I must ask you not to get suspicious, because Daniel doesn't have a devious bone in his body - Lavinia felt her companion behind her, sturdy and balanced, both arms encircling her. It was not am embrace, not at all. He simply positioned her hands, pressed her fists tight on the edge of the sack, then moved quickly away to encourage her in her hunt for the elusive biosbardo. Lavinia wasn't sure if she preferred that to having some support, given the stream's current, but she did not have long to think about it.

Galicia is a rich land, with countless animals, abundant vegetation all shades of green, and veins of metal that go back to antiquity, mined as they were by the Romans. For a person 'from away' to find herself in the middle of that potent force of nature nearly brought Lavinia to tears. For a moment she thought that it didn't matter if she were able to snatch up the little being she'd come to get that evening. Just looking for it was sufficient. They said you could hunt for them or fish for them? She wasn't doing either, really. You don't fish with a bag, and she certainly didn't bring along a gun...

It might have been a minute, or two, or three minutes, while Lavinia stood, feet firmly planted on the flattest stones, turning slowly in several directions, peering into the running waters that were cold but yet not icy. She had no feeling of cold, having dressed warmly enough, and wondered if there had been, or wouuld be, a frost that night. The problem was, Daniel had still not explained what technique to use to catch the biosbardos she was trying to locate. I understand her confusion. Who knows, if nobody tells you, whether to hold the sack completely under the water, or to grasp it at the top, so the animal swims past, and then you sort of pounce, like a cat? After all, there are so many ways to fish, so many different types of equipment.

Daniel had been observing her, his face turned away from the moonlight so Lavinia couldn't see his expression. She was intent upon spotting something in the water, and finally discerned a wriggly little thing moving calmy in the water near her. Should she leap? No, the would scare it. Should she sidle toward it? No, that would give it time to escape. 

So Lavinia simply swooped the bag around the little thing and, to her surprise, came up with three little animals that might have been salamanders or they might have been real live biosbardos, the thing she had been after, had been looking for, traipsing around the little Sar at night to catch a glimpse of. Oh, those biosbardos really were hard to catch. Now, in the dark, it was hard to see exactly what they looked like. She was going to try, though, and told Daniel she'd found something, maybe the something she'd been looking for. It might be a real, live biosbardo.

Daniel moved next to her again, but before you think he put his arms around her and kissed her, please stop. That is not the point of this story. Instead, he dropped his left hand lightly on her right shoulder, steadying himself in order to get a look at what was being held captive in the bag. When he had seen the contents, he looked quite pleased, probably because of what he'd accomplished.

"And what might that be?" you ask.

Daniel was a good teacher. He had taught a person who was not a native Galician, to andar aos biosbardos. She had done it, and now she knew what that meant.

No translation needed.