National Geographic: Spitting Mad - Wild Camel of the Andes

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In remote corners of South America

lives a feisty animal,

the elegant camel-like guanaco.

You've got to be taught to survive here,

especially if you're a male guanaco.

In the southern Andes Mountains,

fierce blizzards and crippling cold

threaten to freeze you to death.

Then there are killer cats.

This is the home of the mountain lion

known here by the Inca name, puma.

It's strong and powerful predator.

If the puma does kill you,

a long list of animals

will gladly dine on your remains

from little gray foxes

to giant Andean condors.

And you can't even trust your own kind.

If the cold or the cats don't kill you,

rivals for your territory will

certainly try.

But without a territory,

you can't get a female to breed.

So a male guanaco's life

is filled with conflict.

Supremacy is the objective,

physical violence the method,

females the prize.

So if you're a male guanaco,

tough isn't enough.

You also have to be spitting mad.

Born of volcanic fire,

carved by ice and wind,

the famous granite towers of Paine

are the crowning glory of the world's

longest mountain chain-the Andes.

This is Southern Chile's Torres del

Paine National Park

only a thousand miles from

the ice-cap of Antarctica.

And just over the mountains

is the Pacific Ocean

a birthplace of storms.

So this land is battered by some

of the fiercest winds on earth.

To survive here,

you need to be a very special animal

one that is adaptable,

well-organized, alert,

and above all tough the guanaco.

And they certainly are well adapted

having thick, soft coats

for protection against the cold.

Wild ancestors of the

domesticated Ilama,

their fleece was much admired

by the Inca civilization,

providing warmth and wealth.

But a warm coat is not enough.

A male guanaco

starts adult life homeless and alone,

and to by successful,

he has to win a territory and breed.

So he must communicate

with potential mates-and rivals.

A raised tail and lowered ears

mean aggression.

And the elaborate language

makes intentions clear.

The ear flagging, the spitting,

the raucous screams

means a battle for territory

is in the making.

The war dance confirms

they will fight.

And the final exchange of insults

starts the conflict.

With battle lines drawn,

they try to intimidate each other

with a show of strength.

If that doesn't work,

it's grid - iron mayhem.

These fierce fights are dangerous

and could lead to broken bones

- even death.

But in the world of the guanaco,

territory is everything.

The rival must be driven

right out of the territory.

The males are fighting

for this prime real estate,

a lush area with ample food and water.

And by winning this territory,

the victor is able to attract females

an absolute necessity

if he's to breed successfully.

His aggressive defense

means the females of his family group

can feed without hassle

from other males.

Guanacos graze carefully,

and their soft,

cloven hooves minimize damage

to the delicate turf.

These is safety in numbers, too

- many pairs of eyes and ears

provide protection from predators,

and in this landscape,

predators can hide almost anywhere.

The male deeps a sharp lookout

for danger

- especially pumas,

the guanacos worst nightmare.

Pumas are a serious threat to survival

and often stalk lake edges

for thirsty guanacos.

They are powerful predators,

six feet of lethal muscle,

capable of pulling down

prey eight times their weight.

But a fully grown guanaco

is a difficult sharp-eyed target.

If they're seen,

pumas won't waste energy

with further hunting.

And guanacos sound the alarm

with a far-reaching cry.

These powerful cats spend most of

their days grooming and resting

in preparation

for nights of hunting...

...and she'll need plenty of rest.

For spring is the busy season

in the southern Andes,

a time of movement

and great migrations.

And she hunts an inspiring wilderness,

the Torres del Paine National Park,

home to the Andean condor.

One of the world's largest birds,

the condor's ten-foot wing span

looks big even

in this mighty landscape,

as they cruise the wild skies

in search of carrion.

Spring is the time

when guanacos give birth.

So still-born calves or after-births

will be a welcome source of food.

Young guanacos called chulengos

are vulnerable.

And because there is safety in numbers,

females synchronize births.

Over about two weeks,

nearly 500 chulengos will be born.

So when one mother does it,

they must all do it.

It is no wonder that spring is

considered the high season

in these wild mountains,

and the young guanacos are eager

to become part of the celebration.

The most precocious chulengos

are walking and nursing

within half an hour.

And they must all become mobile

as soon as their young legs

will carry them-and quickly

- for the danger of puma attack

is never far away,

the cats watching from some lofty crag

with hungry eyes.

But even big cats don't have it easy.

Guanaco family groups gather

in areas where there

is less cover for pumas on the prowl.

And even chulengos are

deceptively quick on their feet.

Fast or not, they are in mortal danger,

for they are the pumas favorite prey.

Even where there is little cover,

pumas are masters of invisibility,

stalking their intended victims

by using hollows in the ground.

Many chulengos die in their first year,

but now is the most dangerous time

of their lives,

especially if they leave

the relative safety

of their mother's side.

Life is a constant battle

between the puma's stealth

and the guanaco's sharp eyes.

In this case, the eyes win.

Guanaco numbers can be seriously

reduced by pumas.

But to truly understand the way

guanacos live and die

requires knowledge.

And to get it,

you have to catch the chulengos.

Dr. Bill Franklin and his helpers

have been studying guanacos since 1976,

and with so many years experience

behind him,

he knows this mother is

being difficult-and dangerous.

This angry female has made it clear

that her chulengo

is not going to become

a part of Bill's scientific data.

But Bill also notices something else

about the female.

Not only is she very aggressive,

she is also rather fat.

So he leaves her to

regain her composure in peace,

but instructs one of his students to

watch her from a distance.

It soon becomes obvious that this.

Particular guanaco

is a very special mother.

She is about to give birth again,

though she already has a chulengo

barely three hours old.

Only once in 20 years

has Bill observed guanaco twins.

But now he has another opportunity

to study this extraordinary event again.

The first born chulengo

seems a bit confused

by this staggering addition

to the family.

During the coming months,

scientists will closely

observe the twins

as they face the dual threats

of bad weather and puma attack.

But for the study to have meaning,

single chulengos must be

collared and tagged as well.

The fleet-footed youngsters

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