By Michaela Francesconi of University of Vermont
Running, running, running. Fast and hard, from what I can only imagine. But I do not want to face the possibility of what I could be running from. Finally, I stop, feeling I have put enough distance between me and what is behind. The wind ruffles underneath my feathers. I cock my head and see the sweet grasses that lie below. Oh, the delicious wonder! My friends begin to appear around me. We dine! Ahhh. CRUNCH My head snaps back up and I scan the landscape. Step and bob, step and bob, slowly I creep forward. CRUNCH. There it is again! AHHHHHHH NOOO NOT TODAY. And then I am off. Wind under my wings. That’s ok, I didn’t even like that patch of grass anyway. Life as a Ñandu is challenging. The responsibility of holding a whole population of large flightless bird on your flightless shoulders is challenging at times. But finding that sweet patch of juicy grass makes it all worth it.
Dim headlights scan the dirt road ahead. Our Ford van rumbles down Ruta X-83 as we cross to the eastern edge of the Chacabuco Valley. Beyond the walls of our van, day light begins to break on the horizon. Streaks of yellow and orange radiate through the thick clouds. The van slows to a stop as we approach a red and white striped gate. Eyes start to blink open as the others realize we have stopped. Claudia steps out of the van and approaches the gate. Beyond the gate lies kilometers of wide, open Patagonian Steppe.
Today I woke up at 4:45 to the nagging beeping of my watch alarm. It is imperative for an early morning when you are studying birds. Dawn and dusk are their most active times. This morning we have chosen to complete our Ñandu census. Within Patagonia there are only two remaining populations of Ñandu. The southern population has over 200 individuals. The second population lives just in our backyard in an area called Puesto Ñandu. A small portion of the Patagonian steppe habitat that lies East of the Chacabuco Valley on the border of Chile and Argentina. It is tucked in between the police owned land and the military owned lands of the border. The population of Ñandu that live here is comprised of roughly 40 individuals and has been growing in numbers since Round River has begun to do census work here. With the goal of a self-sustaining population, it is supplemented by the work of a breeding center that operates on the Puesto Ñandu land on which we complete the census. There is a second breeding center within the valley that holds young Ñandu.
Our purpose this morning was to see how many individuals are currently within the population. To do so the land was broken into smaller parallel sections known as transects. Our two teams of students as well as instructors, roughly 26 of us, are broken into pairs. Each pair walks along a transect line starting at one end of the land and following this line until we reach a fence on the other side constantly scanning for Ñandu.
From inside the warmth of the van I see Claudia looking around cautiously. We have reached the Chilean police border. Some of the research we have been conducting over the past two weeks has been beyond this border but still within Chile. Though we have woken up with the birds this morning, it seems no one else has. After a few minutes we pull through the gate and out into the steppe. For some reason, crossing this border and entering the true Patagonian Steppe is comforting. We have been here before and it almost seems predictable. A wide, open landscape with high plateaus in the distance bordered by steep mountains and dotted with rock formations. You can see and hear the wind coming from kilometers away long before you even feel it.
This morning Rob Mcmanis (a student from Team Truco) and I are set to tackle a 4.4 km transect. By some magic, the overcast skies have kept the wind to a minimum. We hike 1.5 km out to our transect starting point and prep our GPS. We find our compass bearing for the day, 105 degrees and set off. Hiking through the steppe can be challenging. You are constantly having to dodge spiky Neneo cushion plants and avoid tripping over giant tufts of bush grass. But thanks to numerous days of bushwhacking we seem to have the hang of it. We scan the landscape, occasionally using our binoculars to help pull objects out of the distance, but it’s a quiet morning. No Ñandu today. We trek forward, jumping rivers, and hiking on makeshift Guanaco trails until we reach the fence. The whole world is silent. Not even the sound of the breeze, or the nearby river. It is dead silent. Calm and quiet, almost eerie. Until the shrill screech of a Guanaco in the distance snaps us back into focus. We finish our GPS track and hike back to the van pickup point to wait. A hazy sunrise and serene morning in the steppe. The day done right, if you ask me.
Despite our Ñandu count of zero, other pairs have managed to find a few, bringing our total population count up to a whopping 56. In addition to our census count this morning, Round River has been collecting and repositioning camera traps to monitor fence activity. Team Maté has also conducted fence surveys, looking for scat and tracks of Nandu, fox and puma. This data collection is aiding in the case for fence removal in the area which currently prohibits movement of various animals such as the Ñandu and Guanaco in the area. The days we spent in the Steppe have been some of my favorite so far. Unfortunately, our time in this habitat is over, but I am happy to have played a tiny role in the conservation of this area.
Left to Right: Michaela Francesconi, Isabelle Ellenthal, Nicole Prom, Grady Jackobsburg.