Written October 9, 2015

By Robin Lewis (Colby College)

 

It’s a strange thing to become desensitized to a place like this, but it is happening—slowly. For example, I know now to expect mountains when I unzip my tent in the morning. I am not surprised to find frost on the ground from time to time, or to see new snow above the distant tree line. Everyday I find the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. No camera can capture the view, but I am still trying.

 

Across an endless steppe below an endless, pink sky, Cristobal rides home to end another day herding sheep for the Chilean military guarding the border with Argentina, where RRCS students stayed for several days while studying Darwin’s Rhea (Pterocnemia pennata) and Wolffsohn’s Viscacha (Lagidium wolffsohni).

 

Regarding the Chilean lifestyle, I have discovered that instant coffee is palatable and preferable to an afternoon headache. The local hot drink—mate—is preferable to both. Toilet paper does not go in the toilet under any circumstances. It is rude to burp but not to slurp. Spanish is a useful skill I don’t really have. Veggies are rare but tasty, and the apples are phenomenal. I wish I had brought peanut butter.

Ultimately, we’ve started to settle in. We spent this past week on the far eastern side of the Chacabuco Valley, just a short walk from the Argentinean border. We stayed at a small military base operated by three Chilean men and eight dogs. Their predominant job is to look after the 3,000 sheep in the region, all of which are owned by the military.

While staying at the base many of us were able to sleep in bunk beds, an unexpected luxury that made getting up in the morning far more difficult than normal. During our down time we discovered that one of the military dogs is a phenomenal soccer player. We named her Air Bud, appropriately, and she would come running every time she heard us start kicking the soccer ball around. When you passed the ball to her she would run up and push it back with her nose, at which point she would bark, signaling that she was open for the next pass. At times this went on for an hour or more. We were sorry to leave Air Bud, and hope that her talent does not go to waste.

 

Air Bud waiting for a pass from Peter.

 

We worked on two projects this past week. The first was a population survey for viscacha, a large alpine-dwelling rodent known for its ability to climb steep cliffs. Little is known about the viscacha population in Patagonia, which made this project all the more interesting. We surveyed two cliffs this week, both of which were south facing (viscachas are sunbathers and usually prefer north-facing cliffs). Although we did not find any live viscacha, we did find substantial amounts of scat, even at relatively high altitudes.

The second project was a habitat suitability survey for the Ñandú (also known as Darwin’s rhea), which is a large flightless bird that resembles a small ostrich. Ñandú are common in Argentina but endangered in Chile, with the Chacabuco population only consisting of about 20-30 individuals, all of which are found in the low-lying steppe area close to the military base.

The Chilean population of Ñandú has been in decline for several years now. The cause of this drop is relatively unknown, but one possibility is predation from dogs (hopefully not our beloved Air Bud). Our work this week consisted of random vegetation sampling and Ñandú scat surveys, both of which we did in 250 meter transects primarily alongside the military fence. On the other side of the fence is the future Patagonia National Park, and one of our preliminary research questions is whether this fence could be impacting the migration of Ñandú populations.

On the second day of our Ñandú survey my group found a dead Ñandú. It was both exciting and depressing. We were all impressed by how large the carcass was. We were unable to determine the cause of death, but predation seems likely as the carcass was found just alongside the fence. We wondered if a predator had cornered the Ñandú here.

 

RRCS student Elaine “Lainey” Gallenburg holds the Ñandú carcass our group found alongside the fence of the military’s sheep fence.

 

On our last day at the military base we visited the Ñandú Research Center, a small establishment run by a quiet man named Manuel, who was able to answer many of our questions about Ñandú. We were also able to see eleven live Ñandú, which are kept at the Research Center as part of a captive breeding program. Manuel hopes to breed two local Ñandú with nine Ñandú from further north. If successful, this match-up would add genetic diversity to the Chacabuco population, which is currently inbreeding.

 

Ñandú browsing at the Research Center.

 

As we were driving back from the Research Center we saw five wild Ñandú running across the open steppe. All three trucks pulled over, and we all scrambled out armed with binoculars and cameras to watch the strange birds. Their long necks bobbed up and down as they leapt over clumps of bunchgrass and neneo bushes, their strong legs kicking up dust trails behind them. They are somehow awkward and graceful simultaneously, and they are so fast. It felt right to see them in the wild. It reminded me of why we are here.

We ate an entire sheep for lunch with the military men. It was maybe the best meat I’ve ever had. We gorged ourselves, and my stomach felt like a lead brick on the four-hour car ride home. We saw more snowy mountains, and eagles, and guanacos, and bright blue glacial streams. We stopped in Cochrane for groceries, and ended up playing hours of street soccer with some local teenagers.

We had small portions salad for dinner, given that everyone was still recovering from our massive lunch. It was a clear night and there were so many stars. I’ve realized that I don’t know any constellations here, which is humbling. There was frost on the ground this morning. I was warm and cozy in my sleeping bag. There is much to miss back in America, but for now this is home, and I love it here.

 

Robin checks out the view above the Cochrane River while warming up with a cup of mate