Spain remains one of the most popular holiday destinations, with Brits making more than an annual trip to soak up the coastal sun. But how many realize that one of Europe’s greatest wildlife havens is just three hours from Barcelona?

In the time it would take to get from London to Manchester, I’m standing in the snow of the Pyrenees. This monster mountain range splits Spain and France. Some peaks, like Aneto, exceed 3,000 metres and have permanent glaciers. Closer to the Costa Brava, in the ‘pre-Pyrenees’, beautiful forests and gentle countryside throb with the songs of nightingales.

I’ve had some of the best wildlife experiences of my life in these mountains because here, in contrast to lowland Europe, the steep ground has made intensive farming impossible. Pastures are still managed in the traditional way, humming with field crickets, buzzing with black and yellow ant lions and heaving with wild flowers.

When the sun burns back the ice in May, it exposes a vast carpet of alpine meadow flecked with vivid purple gentians and tiny daffodils. Marmots have been introduced from the Alps. Although they are a kind of squirrel, they are so overweight – to survive the winter – that there’s little chance of one shinning up a tree. Instead, they live in burrows in family groups, whistling a warning to each other when a golden eagle bird wheels overhead. In the pine woodlands live huge black woodpeckers and capercaillie – a monstrous grouse the size of a turkey.

In the midst of all this wildlife what my wife and I really love to go looking for are chamois. These goat antelopes gave their name to the ‘shammy’ leather that we polish our cars with. Two decades ago, their future was in doubt due to excessive hunting. Today, thanks to conservation, they are one of the most exciting mammals to be seen anywhere in Europe.

What makes them special is not just their appearance, a white-striped face and neatly curved short horns, but also how well they have adapted to these perilous mountains.

We found the best time to see them is when wading through snow and not too sure of our footing. It’s then that our plodding progress contrasts best with these alpine daredevils. Not long ago, my wife and I were walking in snow, thirty metres apart, when a loud clattering erupted from our right. Spinning round, I realised an unnoticed flock of chamois were taking flight. Suddenly, 13 members of a conservation success story were charging down the steep slope towards us.

They were agility personified. Even though the slope was pitched at 45 degrees and perilous with snow and rock, they ran headlong down it at full tilt. They never once missed their footing as they charged into the gully and right between us. Then, the chamois seemed to change gear, accelerating up the near vertical icy mountainside to our left, seemingly oblivious to the dangers of slipping and tumbling headfirst onto a boulder. The chamois avalanche left us standing, open-mouthed, but the animals themselves didn’t pause for breath.

However, the speciality of these mountains is much smaller. The Pyrenean desman is a pocket-sized relative of the mole. It, too, has a sensitive nose but rather than hunting worms in tunnels, it hunts insects in streams. Two years ago, sitting quietly by a river one evening, I thought I saw a snout break the surface of the water, then it was gone. This fascinating little animal has been around for 45 million years, so I guess I have time to keep looking.

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