Having at last set eyes on a Great Bustard, strutting along on the plains of Extremadura, I now see that it would be wrong to reintroduce it to Britain. This bustard us Spanish through and through, from the tips of its magnificent moustachios to the flamboyant sweep of its tail. Indeed, it seems to me that your better sort of Spaniard probably models himself on the Great Bustard, copying the cool way in which it swaggers back and forth, head held high, like a grandee on the plaza, or flashes its feathers like a flamenco dancer.