by Bethany Llewellyn, of University of Puget Sound

Patagonia Student Program – Fall 2019 Semester

“El idioma no es importante. Solo los ñandúes son importantes,” said Rodi. “Language isn’t important, only the ñandú are important.” He was smiling, clearly self-aware of the cheesiness of the statement, but also genuinely happy with a good day’s work. We were standing around a pile of fenceposts and coiled wire, the only remnants of 400 meters of fence that had stretched across the valley. For most of us, myself included, it was the first time we’d removed a fence. The language barrier made for a steep learning curve and a few humorous mishaps, but at the end of day one we had hit our stride. The atmosphere was damp but festive as we surveyed our progress: wires had been cut, untwisted, and coiled and posts pulled from the ground, leaving only a few holes and two dozen scratched and sweaty students and instructors in their place.

Safety First! (Bethany Llewellyn, University of Puget Sound ’21)

This fence, like many in the Valle Chacabuco (which is part of Patagonia National Park), is a remnant of the valley’s history as an extensive estancia, or ranch. However, these fences now serve as barriers to wildlife movement and can be a death sentence for any unlucky animal that gets stuck. One morning we came face-to-face with a reminder of the importance of this work: a baby guanaco corpse, caught between the wires of the fence. Guanacos, wild, llama-like camelids, are common in this area, but fences also serve as a barrier for a more elusive character of the Patagonian Steppe. The ñandú, or Darwin’s rhea, is about the last thing I’d expect to find between the snow-capped mountains and prickly scrublands of the valley. These ostrich-like birds stand three to four feet tall, with long necks, dinosaur-like feet, and huge, dark, long-lashed eyes. Male ñandúes perform the incubation and chick-rearing duties, sometimes brooding eggs from several females. While they’re common in Argentina, only a few populations of these bizarre birds remain in Chile, and one of them is right at the Argentinian end of the Valle Chacabuco in an area called Predio Ñandú. Here, a breeding program funded by the Tompkins Foundation (who also donated the land that became this portion of the park) is working to rebuild a healthy population of ñandú. Lucho and Rodi, our leaders in fence removal, work there caring for juvenile ñandú, a job that isn’t always as easy as it sounds… when we visited the breeding center, Rodi had to fight off a violently territorial male just to let our cars through the gate.

Ostriches? In Wyoming? (Bethany Llewellyn, University of Puget Sound ’21)

Fences like the one we removed provide barriers to the growing ñandú population migrating further into Chile up the Valle Chacabuco. While these fences have been a priority for removal for some time, a lack of park resources and manpower makes taking them out nearly impossible. But many hands (even untrained ones) make for much lighter work, and over three days we removed almost a kilometer of fence: one segment stretching across the valley, and another along the road. Eventually, fence removal and the breeding program will hopefully help establish a much broader population of ñandú throughout the valley. With so much conservation work centered around research and slow-moving legal processes, it was incredibly satisfying to do something so tangible, and to see the excitement on Rodi and Lucho’s faces when they saw the progress we’d made. 

Wrapping up a Good Day’s Work (Bethany Llewellyn, University of Puget Sound ’21)

The second half of our week of work with ñandú took us to Predio Militar, a small outpost of the Chilean army at the end of the Chacabuco Valley bordering Argentina. Surrounded by spectacular mountains, this wind-blasted frontera is also inhabited by ñandú. A small settlement here is manned year-round by one or two lonely members of the military, who graciously welcomed us in a few small cabins. Woodstoves and indoor beds made for a welcome change from frigid nights camping in the Chacabuco, where hot water bottles in our sleeping bags were practically a necessity. A part of this property recently was donated to Patagonia National Park, but while it borders Predio Nandú, little is known about the population of birds in this area. Thanks to a friendly welcome from the military, Round River has the opportunity to do initial monitoring here. This research will allow us to provide recommendations to the military for ñandú management, possibly including further fence removal. 

Sunrise at Predio Militar (Bethany Llewellyn, University of Puget Sound ’21)

October falls during ñandú breeding season, and males can be very territorial, so to avoid disrupting the population (and incurring possible violence from territorial males) we surveyed fencelines for signs of ñandú instead of looking directly for the birds themselves. In addition to providing barriers for movement, fences often serve as high-use corridors as birds travel out of their way to go around. On our first day we walked the border fence between Chile and Argentina, counting every incidence of ñandú scat or tracks, as well as keeping an eye out for elusive live sightings. The second day we were able to survey two fences, one through Predio Militar and one bordering the area newly donated to Patagonia National Park. 

Ñandu Poop ID (Christof Zweifel, Carleton College ’21)

In practice, walking fence transects boils down to a whole lot of talking about poop. Ñandú poop is elongated, larger than rabbit but smaller than horse, and almost completely made of intact grassy fibers. Examining and discussing poop was a theme that carried through our days in Predio Militar, to the point that we considered making rules about how many times it could come up at dinner. Long days of walking the Patagonian Steppe were also full of other diversions, including condors, flamingos, an armadillo sighting, cave paintings, and a wide variety of interesting carcasses and bones. In addition to fence transects, one group of students visited Predio Ñandú to collect data from two camera traps, including videos of ñandú, and placed a new trap for continued monitoring.\

Fun Transect Finds (Bethany Llewellyn, University of Puget Sound ’21)

Ñandú or Dinosaur? (Bethany Llewellyn, University of Puget Sound ’21)

Three of my classmates are now beginning to analyze these data, as well as monitoring done by other groups of Round River students, in order to compile recommendations for future ñandú management. In the meantime, however, it was time for us to bid farewell to the Valle Chacabuco. Excited to return to hot showers but already missing the mountains and guanaco, we piled into our van and headed back to base camp in Cochrane.