Primer caso autóctono de Crimea-Congo confirma a Ciudad Real como zona de alto riesgo

A young man from the Sierra Madrona region, near the border between Ciudad Real and Andalucía, was bitten by a tick in early July. Within weeks, he developed symptoms of Crimea-Congo hemorrhagic fever—a rare but serious viral infection transmitted by infected ticks. He was admitted to Madrid's Gómez Ulla Defense Hospital, where doctors monitored his condition closely. His body mounted an effective immune response, and his symptoms remained mild enough that he was discharged after a short stay, his recovery swift and complete.

This single case, confirmed weeks after the initial infection, carries outsized significance for the province of Ciudad Real. Francisco Ruiz, a researcher at the Institute of Game Resources and an epidemiologist advising the regional government of Castilla-La Mancha, calls it confirmation of what models had long suggested: the southwestern corner of the province—particularly the area around Fuencaliente and Brazatortas, where the patient was bitten—sits in a zone of genuine epidemiological risk. The virus circulates here. The conditions favor its spread. This is no longer theoretical.

The evidence had been building. Animal surveillance studies, particularly of wild populations, had flagged Sierra Morena as a place where the virus was present and active. Just two years earlier, in 2024, a case had emerged in Cardeña, a town in neighboring Córdoba province that sits within the same ecological territory. Researchers knew then that the region posed a threat. Now they have proof that the virus has crossed into Ciudad Real itself, establishing a foothold in the province's own soil.

Yet the picture is more complicated than raw risk might suggest. Ruiz emphasizes that despite the high-risk designation, actual infections remain extraordinarily rare. This past summer, health centers across Castilla-La Mancha submitted roughly three hundred ticks for analysis. About eighty percent belonged to the Hyalomma genus—the species capable of transmitting the virus. But among those hundreds of specimens, only a tiny fraction carried detectable viral material. The infected ticks are few. The odds of being bitten by one are long.

There is another layer of protection, almost accidental: many people bitten by infected ticks develop no fever at all, no obvious symptoms to alert them that something has happened. They may feel nothing. Without a clear warning sign, they have no reason to seek medical attention, no way to know whether the virus entered their bloodstream. The disease often announces itself quietly, if at all.

Still, the confirmation of a local case has sharpened focus on prevention. Ruiz and other epidemiologists now stress the importance of protective measures for anyone working or spending time in the affected areas—farmers, herders, hikers, anyone moving through dense vegetation or grassland. Long pants tucked into socks. Closed shoes. Light-colored clothing that makes ticks visible against the fabric. Approved insect repellents applied to exposed skin and clothing. And after any activity in high-risk terrain, a thorough inspection of the body, checking for ticks before they have time to feed.

If a tick is found, removal matters. It should be extracted as soon as possible using fine-tipped tweezers, with steady, continuous traction. Crushing the tick or leaving parts of it embedded increases the risk of transmission. The steps are simple, but they require awareness and discipline—the kind of vigilance that becomes routine only when people understand the threat is real. For Ciudad Real, that understanding has now arrived.