by Amy Deane
January 23, 2008
Page 1 : The Search
Atop a ladder, which has all four legs in buckets of water to deter poisonous critters from reaching me, I await nightfall. After a decade of studying wild chinchillas, I still have really not seen one. Their natural history makes these little mammals hard for researchers to observe. They are nocturnal, perhaps to escape some predation pressures or to avoid the heat of the hot arid days here in these cacti- covered transverse mountains of Northcentral Chile. Tonight, I am not only nocturnal but am armed with Russian defense technology (infrared night-vision binoculars, that is). I have never been close enough to describe in detail their behavior. However, the locals assure me that, if I just try this one spot, I will see elusive endangered chinchillas up close and personal. So, I sit and wait for nightfall.
Tonight seems like all other nights out in the mountains—cold, very dark and peaceful. The first two animals I see are European rabbits, an exotic species that causes many problems in this area. At 9:40, a rustling noise starts from behind me in the bushes. Still, I keep the night-vision binoculars focused on the stone fence ruins where the chinchillas are said to be living. Every couple of minutes, I turn the lens toward the noise but detect nothing.
The noise is now off a little further, but upslope and to the right. Once again I turn the lens and see nothing. I know something is stalking me and I am hoping with all my might that it’s not a puma. I have seen their tracks in this basin but I reassure myself that cats are quiet. Still no chinchillas.
At 10:00 pm, the noise is getting louder as the animal approaches from the right. It skids to a stop. Relieved that whatever I am going to see has not yet attacked, I turn the binoculars and see a pair of large green eyes that belong to a very skinny fox that is gazing up at me. Instead of being scared, I find myself laughing at the little one. Poor guy, no wonder he’s so skinny—I have heard him approaching for 20 minutes. Also, this is probably why I still have yet to see a wild chinchilla!
The fox walks down toward the trees and marks the closest one with urine. By the time I have refocused on the chinchilla colony, the fox has returned and is now to my left. I watch the fox watch me for a couple of minutes. He turns his head vertically to look at me as if he is unsure of what he sees. It is a chilla fox (Pseudalopex griseus). This species is the smaller of two fox species found in the area; both prey on chinchillas.
When hiking, I usually stop to watch foxes. They also pause for a second when they first detect my presence and then they run off. Tonight, I glance down at this fox and decide to move up the ladder one more step to avoid the nuisance of having to go though yet another set of rabies shots. Not that I really think he will bite me. He leaves.
I turn the binoculars back to the ruins and watch for another hour and fifty minutes. My spirit is dampening; it seemed that I was never going to be able to study wild chinchilla behavior. Of course, I can keep doing what I’ve been doing, which is just making habitat. I can find their feces, get their footprints, and even hear them occasionally; but I want to see them. Not only for science, but for my personal satisfaction. By 11:50, I have given up on seeing a chinchilla. Tonight is going to end as all other nights, with only more data on non-chinchilla species to show for my work.
At 11:55 pm, two little green flashes of light appear in my binoculars. I blink to clear my vision. It is the left eye of a small animal. The animal hops twice, and pauses upon a large rock for a few seconds. It stops long enough for me to focus in on the tail. And this time, the tail is long and bushy. It is a chinchilla! A WILD CHINCHILLA!
My neighbors were right; I could see the entire body and ears of an adult chinchilla. Then it hops to a small bush where another adult chinchilla is sitting. Their eyes are opening and shutting, and the animals appear to be rolling. At least one of them is taking a dust bath. Chinchillas love to roll in dirt. It keeps their fur clean and the dust serves as insulation. Other self-grooming behaviors include face washing with the forepaws and scratching by a claw in the inner digit of the hind legs.
Next Page : Observing and Understanding Chinchilla Behavior
Pages: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
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