IT’S not every day you wake up to the news that a lion is on the loose.
While it was, admittedly, silly season, the mid-August scare story reported how the Guardia Civil had dispatched officers, drones and even a helicopter to scour a remote corner of Castilla-La Mancha.
Who had spotted it? How had it ended up here? And, most importantly, what was being done about it?
They were all questions the bosses at the Olive Press wanted answered. And, for good reason, as you’ll discover by reading on.
So off I went on a mission to find a lion. A wild lion chase, if you will, across one of Spain’s most depopulated regions.
The big cat had allegedly been spotted in a rugged backwater of Toledo province after a delivery driver reported seeing a ‘large feline’ near the ancient Convent of El Piélago, in the Sierra de San Vicente.
This is a hugely underpopulated part of Spain, where the landscape stretches for mile after mile across rolling hills, woodland and scrub.
Not entirely dissimilar, in fact, to parts of Africa.
And yes, a pretty good place for a lion to hide.
Once I arrived in the nearest village, El Real de San Vicente, the atmosphere didn’t exactly scream: ‘Help! We’re being terrorised by a wild beast!’
In fact, the village of around 1,000 residents was decidedly peaceful.
Most of the shops and bars were closed, the roads were empty and there was little sign of panic.
Had everyone stayed indoors to hide from the beast?
I needed answers. Which meant finding people – and they were in rather short supply.
Eventually, while roaming around, I heard distant chatter, laughter and the clatter of cutlery.
READ MORE: Spain is second highest importer of lion hunting trophies, new report finds
Finally, I found a cafe that appeared to have attracted most of the village on a slow August afternoon.
When I began asking whether anyone had seen a lion in these parts, most gave me strange looks. A few simply walked away.
“Of course not!” Jesus Alveras, 69, a pensioner, practically shouted, before letting out a deep, guttural laugh.
“But they were looking for it,” he admitted, pointing towards the sky. “They even used drones, as well as that helicopter!”
And yes, perhaps extraordinarily, the Guardia Civil did launch a major operation to locate the mystery beast.
READ MORE: Sick safari hunters named
After a day and a half of searching, however, the operation was suspended after officers found no evidence of a lion – and received no further sightings.
They had checked with nearby zoos and wildlife parks, as well as local estates, but nobody had reported a missing big cat.
So where had it come from?
Are you not scared it might still be wandering around here somewhere? I asked another local, Jesus Navarro, 65, who was born and raised in El Real de San Vicente.
“No, I’m not scared. I don’t think it’s real,” he said, seemingly unfazed. “It was only one person who saw it. I think he probably needs glasses.”
Nothing, it seemed, scared these men. Certainly not the rumour of a killer feline on the loose.
But while the zoo had reported no missing lions, and few locals appeared to believe the sighting, not everyone was entirely convinced.
A member of staff at the nearby Zoo Safari Fauna Aventura told me it was still possible that the animal could have come from elsewhere – perhaps a private collection or another facility.
READ MORE: Sick safari hunters jailed for shooting tigers and lions
And then there was another, rather darker possibility.
Nearly 20 years ago, the Olive Press reported on a shocking case involving wealthy hunters who paid tens of thousands of euros to shoot lions, tigers and other animals at an estate near Monterrubio de la Serena in Badajoz.
The animals had been kept in cages before being released as easy targets.
Police arrested seven people after raiding the estate, where hunters were preparing to shoot more animals. Several of those involved were later convicted and jailed.
The investigation had begun after locals reported hearing gunfire and became suspicious when they discovered the estate was surrounded by a high, electrified fence – designed, investigators believed, to stop the animals escaping.
I wondered whether something similar could explain Toledo’s missing lion.
“I don’t think so,” Silvia, 53, from Madrid, told me.
“I think it was just a big dog – perhaps a hunting dog.”
On holiday with her husband in the village, where they own a home, she showed me a picture of a golden-furred Tibetan Mastiff.
If a lion and a dog had a baby, this is probably what you would get, I had to admit.
“I assume it was someone on holiday who let their dog out for a run,” she said. “I doubt it was a lion.”
On their way to lunch, they were clearly not worried in the slightest.
“The police haven’t found anything – no dog and no lion. I believe we have nothing to be scared of.”
How trusting the Spaniards were of their local police, I thought, making sure I wasn’t staying anywhere near there that weekend.
Instead, I opted for an Airbnb in Talavera, some 25km away.
The following day, Silvia’s words echoed in my head as I found young children playing in the streets and old folk chatting on benches.
There wasn’t a hint of panic.
So I decided to head out along the winding back roads to find the exact spot where the mystery animal had supposedly been seen.
The sighting was reported on the TO-1375, heading towards Navamorcuende, close to the Puerto del Piélago and its ancient convent.
The valley is lush and beautiful, the narrow road meandering through hills thick with woodland.
When I arrived at the spot, all I could see were trees, greenery and a couple of cows.
No sign of a lion.
But then, if there really had been one, I thought, it could hardly have chosen a better place to disappear.
And perhaps that was the point.
A day and a half of helicopters, drones and patrols had failed to find any trace of Spain’s most wanted feline.
The villagers weren’t worried. The zoo hadn’t lost a lion. And the only witness was a delivery driver who, depending on who you asked, may simply have needed a new pair of glasses.
So, with no roar from the undergrowth and only a few suspicious-looking cows for company, I finally called off my wild lion chase.
The lion, if it ever existed at all, had slipped quietly back into the same place where all the best silly-season stories eventually end up: the realm of legend.
Click here to read more Cordoba News from The Olive Press.
