By Ava Lewis (Carleton College)
With the CONAF presentations proudly behind us, we finally got our feet soaked in our first full week of Chacabuco fieldwork. After a short visit to the administración headquarters the previous week, we hit the ground running Saturday morning with a Ñandú survey. Ñandú are a flightless bird native to both Chile and Argentina, and they are fighting a close battle with Guanaco for the “most uncoordinated neck” award of the Chacabuco. Unfortunately, the population in the Eastern portion of the valley hovers around a meager 20, and is thus facing the threat of local extinction. Though a much larger population thrives in neighboring Argentina, their habitats are fragmented by estancia and border fence lines. Without dismantling these fences, the Ñandú have no corridors to connect the two habitats and the populations are effectively isolated.
Ñandú running across steppe (photo by Rachel Ross)
Ñandú expert Manuel, who kindly let us overrun his research center last Friday night, has observed Ñandú unsuccessfully attempt to jump these fences to escape predation by Puma and Culpeo fox. With long necks, no front appendages, and a mushroom shaped body, they would be hard pressed to try and clear a 4 ft fence. To the great pride of our group’s bird enthusiasts however, they can reach speeds of up to 60 km per hour! Perhaps posing an even graver threat than the aforementioned natural predators is the unregulated population of local dogs. Puppies abound at both the police station and military base, and during our hellaciously windy stay I counted no less than 13 dogs. Scientists in the area have theorized that dogs are terrorizing the fragile Ñandú population, and so far the problem has not been solved.
Emma walking across a salt flat during the Ñandú surveys (photo by Devan Pensinger)
To aid in the relatively little research that has been collected on Ñandú, we spent the morning combing the Patagonian steppe in search of scat, eggs, nests, and live birds. We left camp at sunrise in our three birding groups to begin the surveys, each group covering a different patch of habitat. Within our groups we separated ourselves by 300-500 meters, and began walking, taking note of any observed Ñandú presence and the accompanying GPS location. Every group saw at least one Ñandú, and Feña’s boasted an impressive 13.
After an invigorating morning questioning my ability to distinguish juveniles from adults based on the length of their feathery bowl cuts, we returned to Cochrane for a quick weekend resupply. Our friends at base camp (most importantly Melky/Estefa the cat) always welcome us with open arms, as does Devan’s favorite duck who in his youthful innocence unfortunately imprinted on a group of chickens. Sunday the group split up, some enjoying a quick bouldering adventure on crumbly rock near base camp, while others took to the Rio Cochrane once more in kayaks to attempt a daring upstream paddle. That evening Max, Memo and I hit the streets of Cochrane to immerse ourselves in a traditional Chilean rodeo. Despite my best efforts I really had no idea what was going on, and the constant shout of “puntos malos” from the announcer suggested that perhaps these riders were struggling a bit as well.
Much to the group’s dismay, the rain found us Sunday night and we departed for the Chacabuco Monday morning with heavy hearts. We said our goodbyes to program coordinator Mateo at base camp, wishing him farewell in his upcoming Patagonian adventures. Hacky-sack will never be the same without him and his boots, and we will be reminded every “kill” session of the contribution he donated to the group in the form of the sack.
Black-Chested Buzzard Eagle soaring above a dead Guanaco carcass (photo by Rachel Ross)
Bogged down with flashbacks of drowning in a leaky tent in the fjords, we were immediately drenched in the ten minutes it took to walk from the Green Beast parked in the lot to the shelter of the quincho at camp “Casa Piedra.” Our spirits rekindled when the sun emerged later that afternoon, and we celebrated the occasion with a very competitive game of capture the flag; the stage a neneo and calafate filled minefield, the flags two students’ tupperware lids.
To up the ante Memo decided that any member tagged in the opposing team’s territory had to do ten pushups before resuming play, and faithful teammates Emma and Ellie did upwards of 80 apiece. The game was momentarily interrupted just before dinner with Clara’s announcement that the inside of her and Nina’s tent was mysteriously missing. Though the sleeping bags and pads lay untouched beneath the poles and fly, the tent itself was nowhere to be found.
After previous events involving a kitchen debacle and a mysterious horse/guanaco-like head in Russell’s tent vestibule both led back to Max, fingers were naturally pointed in his direction. The most vocal of these accusations came from none other than Nina Ferrari, while Emma and I enjoyed the peaceful roles of innocent bystanders. It was a glorious evening until the unnamed tent stealers attempted to assuage their guilt by resetting up the tent, and in this selfless act were caught red handed by said tent occupants. A game of cat and mouse ensued, followed by a delicious dinner of veggies and pasta.
All jokes were set aside in the morning and birding business resumed per usual. Each group conducted three twenty-minute surveys, and after a recuperating lunch at camp we set out for our first full afternoon of viscacha surveys (referred to by all as going “vischach-ing”).
View across the valley from a Viscacha cliff (photo by Rachel Ross)
Viscacha are a native rodent that resemble a cross between alpine pikas, marmots, and chinchillas. They live in rocky cliffs, and our goal is to adventure through these cliff systems collecting varying habitat and scat density data following a strict methodology. Team (Vi)scotch on the Rocks, named by Rachel “pushup champion” Ross has followed a mandatory protocol of climbing while collecting data, and all groups have faced fierce gales, treacherous approaches, and otherwise adverse conditions. Though data collection is never “a piece of cheese” as our boisterous leader Feña often pronounces, we “don’t panic” and everyone returns to camp full of stories and enthusiasm for the surveys.
With love from Patagonia,
The Squad
Top photo: Russ and Rachel acting competitive before a Viscacha survey (by Devan Pensinger)