Dead flamingos were not why I came to Laguna Grande, Argentina but...
Sometimes, travel isn't pretty. Even in the most beautiful places, there can exist a darker side. And that darker side revealed itself to me when I revisited Laguna Grande in the Catamarca Province of Argentina. I first experienced this flamingo-filled lagoon in 2017 with my wife, travel, and photography partner, Therese Iknoian. And since that moment, I had dreamed of returning, hoping to capture spectacular photographs of the thousands of flamingos that call this high-altitude lagoon home from October through April each year.
On April 4 of this year, just before sunrise, I found myself standing on the shores of Laguna Grande once again. Therese and I had worked closely with Socompa Adventure Travel to craft a 13-day photography itinerary into the Puna of Argentina that would give each of us deep dives into the types of photography we were most passionate about: me, wildlife, and travel; Therese, night skies, and travel.
Laguna Grande sits at an altitude of 13,615 feet (4,150 meters), meaning the air is thin and the temperatures chilly. The thermometer registered an air temperature of 24.8 Fahrenheit (-4 Celsius), so even with my insulated layers and snug-fitting photography vest holding my cameras, I shivered a bit. Just as the first fingers of light began to touch the tops of the ridges surrounding Laguna Grande, I honestly forgot all about the cold. Walking along the rocky, frozen shoreline, I listened to thousands of flamingos chirping in unison, as if singing to announce the coming of dawn. And I smiled.
Then I saw it: At first just a shadowy lump, but as I walked closer, that shadow transformed into a frost-speckled pile of pink and white feathers atop reddish legs projecting awkwardly outward. And as the sun pulled back the curtain of night, and the lagoon began to turn golden and warm, it revealed even more pink and white carcasses, scattered here and there along the shoreline, each glistening with frost.
I had heard that the flamingos in Laguna Grande had been infected with the H5N1 strain of avian flu virus (bird flu)Â before I arrived. But seeing its devastation in person was something I was not prepared for. It appeared that most of the dead birds, numbering in the hundreds, were the James's flamingo species (Phoenicoparrus jamesi), also known as the Puna flamingo. This species of flamingo is incredibly beautiful, frequently admired and photographed due to its radiant pink plumage, red legs, and bright yellow beak with a black tip. It lives at high altitude in Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, and Peru, although its largest concentration is here, at Laguna Grande in the Puna de Atacama. It is also a species that has been classified as "near threatened" by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN).
The first recording of the bird flu outbreak in this region was in late 2023, but it appears the flu continues to spread. Which is not surprising as flamingos are communal birds that live in close contact with each other, potentially leading to an entire flock becoming infected. Fortunately, the James's flamingo is the only species of flamingo that seems to be affected. The other two species found in Laguna Grande -- the Chilean flamingo (Phoenicoparrus chilensis) and the Andean flamingo (Phoenicoparrus andinus) -- appear to be escaping infection … so far. As of late April, with the winter setting in and the lagoon freezing over, the flamingos have migrated, not to return until October. There is hope that by then, the avian flu will have run its course.
But there is also fear that if the virus returns when the flamingos arrive back to Laguna Grande in October 2024, that the H5N1 avian flu virus may find a way to jump to mammals such as the Vicuña, just as it already has in sea lions along the Argentine coast.
There is also concern that the virus could eventually mutate sufficiently to infect humans. A sobering thought that danced about in the back of my mind as I returned to our truck after walking among so many dead flamingos. Despite keeping my distance from carcasses and using hand sanitizer frequently and in copious amounts (even though I never touched a dead bird or the ground anywhere near one) I did wonder ... what if?
I am back home now, sorting through thousands of photographs of beautiful flamingos at sunrise and at sunset. Despite the dark and ominous shadow of the H5N1 virus hanging over this place, Laguna Grande remains a most visually spectacular destination, made all the more amazing by the thousands of flamingos that will hopefully continue to live there for many decades to come.
-- Story by Michael Hodgson
Is "like" the right response to this post? Sad to see those dead flamingos, and a laugh to see the vicunas as beach goers. Who knew, about either of those things? Thanks for the tour, and the worry about migratory viruses.