The Patagonia steppe and the Andean condor

The eastern-most part of Patagonia is characterized by sun, dry air, open landscape, a huge sky, fickle weather and wind. Mainly wind. There is a lot of it. Don’t bother bringing a hairbrush. Every trip out to the steppe region of Patagonia I return with the beginnings of big, thick dreadlocks. The landscape is dry and open and from above, appears desolate. Every once in awhile a river snakes through the dry landscape and you get the feeling that maybe there is some life that survives in the endless expanse of brown shrubs. However, at any point, if you bother to step outside of the car and brave the wind, you’ll find that the steppe region of Patagonia is teeming with life. The expanses of brown-nothingness, known to most people as wastelands are where one can find some of the most intriguing critters and plants. And the reward of finding something actually pulsing with life is so much greater when unexpected.

The only animals that can elegantly take advantage of the severe winds are the raptors that are constantly coasting along, searching for a bite to eat. I often eye them with a bit of jealousy as I try to keep my lips moist, my hair tied back and the dust out of every orifice of my body. The real kings of this desolate landscape are the condors. They are perfectly adapted to the open, windswept landscape and with a wing span of 3 m and a standing height of 1.3 m, they dominate over all other raptors.

I had my first condor sighting a week ago. We had driven out on a dirt road for about two and half hours searching for a new “condorera” – the term given to condor refuges. Sergio, a condor biologist, wanted to show us a little-known condorera, hidden back in a canyon, completely isolated from houses, towns, phones and radios. Good for the condors but tricky for volunteers to be working out there. After what seemed like ages in the back of a very noisy Land Rover over bumpy, washboard roads, we arrived at the mouth of a canyon. As soon as you stepped out of the car, you were immediately hit in the face with a furious wind. It whipped your hair into your face, knocked the cracker you were eating out of your hand, made normal conversation almost impossible and gave you the feeling that everything was a bit more epic and extreme than it really was. He showed us a potential “campsite” which was a sloped area covered with tussock grass only slightly protected from the gusting winds. The water source was a stagnant puddle and it was only early summer – What would it be like at the end of summer? Hmmm. Not a great campsite, but the wildlife! We walked maybe 5 minutes down the canyon and ran into a family of choique – South America’s attempt at an ostrich. Big daddy choique was out with a horde of maybe 20 youngsters, all of whom were quite confused by our presence in their protected canyon. Then, we rounded the corner and saw what seemed to be the perfect cross between a rabbit and marmot - a chinchilla! Big rabbit-like ears and a marmot-like tail, perched perfectly on a rock ledge, looking down at us curiously before scurrying off to a seemingly important task.

Finally we arrived at the actual condorera, located in the same canyon, just down-stream a couple of kilometers, where the canyon became a bit more open and expansive. From only a couple feet away from the canyon, you wouldn’t have a clue that it was there – it looks like the expansive steppe just continues on forever. We followed Sergio and suddenly we were at the edge of a 200 m cliff, looking down on grazing deer, grassy swales and gently trickling creek. We looked longingly at the peace and quiet of the canyon bottom while the wind thrashed us with its aggressive gusts. Just across the canyon was the condorera – nothing but a cliff, the only difference being the white splotches of condor droppings. For some reason the great soaring beasts had chosen this spot as their safe haven.

As we were searching for campsites down in the canyon, a condor came soaring over our heads and across the canyon. He sailed up and down on the gusts of wind, looking for a place to land safely. I had chills all over my body. Because of the near extinction of the condor in the US and the complete extinction of the Andean condor in Venezuela, it was has been a dream of mine to see one. When you see them, they seem so untouchable, so powerful – a symbol of strength. But their survival as a species is so delicate. That human activity has the power to destroy such a powerful creature baffles me. But there it was, peacefully soaring at eye level just across the canyon, not paying any attention to our lesser species across the way. Spectacular!