The Andes.
Stretching over 4000 miles.
This is the longest mountain range in the world.
Over 100 summits eclipse the western edge of Argentina.
With their highest peak reaching almost 23,000 feet,
these are mountains of extremes.
Creating winds of over 70 miles per hour.
And casting a rain shadow hundreds of miles wide.
Every creature and plant in their wake has had to adapt,
or endure to survive.
Nature here has become highly specialized.
No animal is out of reach of the Andes.
From Tierra del Fuego in the south,
to Argentina's northern border...
at almost 12 times the size of the UK,
Argentina's terrain is a varied expanse of rich plains...
rolling plateaus...
rugged mountains...
and rainforests.
Over 10,000 species of animals and plants
are spread out across 18 different eco regions.
Alongside neighboring Chile,
Argentina is the most southern country in the Americas,
and encompasses around 80% of the region known as Patagonia.
To the west, the Andes dominate the skyline...
and ancient glaciers still carve the rugged landscape.
In the east, the low Patagonian desert
sweeps across the country...
before plunging into the fierce Atlantic Ocean.
The peaks of over 45 mountains tower over Argentina at icy heights
over and above 20,000 feet.
In these extreme mountains,
survival is all about skill and strength.
The Andes are a stronghold for an apex predator.
Pumas.
These big cats are solitary creatures...
and with good reason.
This female needs at least 30 square miles of hunting territory
to find enough food to survive.
After jaguars these are the biggest cats in the Americas.
Males and females can weigh as much as humans.
Here, these cats have no natural predators.
Conditions on the mountains are one of their biggest killers.
The pressure to hunt is on...
and their favorite food is on the move.
These strange-looking animals are guanacos
ancient ancestors of llamas.
They thrive in the foothills of the Andes.
Around half a million live here.
These guanacos are nomads,
constantly roaming in search of food.
In their quest for a meal they forage at altitudes
as high as 14,000 feet.
In Argentina weather conditions can change by the minute.
The stark beauty of this region is only matched by its hostility.
But guanacos have evolved to counter what the mountains throw at them.
A thick shaggy coat protects them from the biting cold,
and winds up to 75 miles per hour.
Their blood is rich to help them cope with life at altitude.
They have four times the number of red blood cells
found in human blood.
These creatures are perfectly adapted to life
at the mercy of the mountains.
It's November, the most prosperous month in the guanacos' calendar.
Breeding season.
This mother has been pregnant for 11-and-a-half months.
And with the first signs of rain,
her grazing is interrupted by her baby's arrival.
Baby guanacos are called chulengos.
She guards him as he tackles learning to walk.
His first steps are clumsy.
But after just five minutes he is up.
He has no choice.
Chulengos are vulnerable in these hills.
Only 30% make it to adulthood.
The puma has a home range of over 40 square miles.
The guanacos have wandered into her patch.
They are the most protein-rich prey available.
She won't turn down an opportunity to hunt.
Pumas make their kill with a combination of stealth and strength.
She is an expert ambush hunter,
and possesses one of the strongest bites in the animal kingdom.
But guanacos aren't easy to catch.
They outstrip her on stamina,
able to maintain speeds of almost 40 miles per hour.
A chance of success relies on the element of surprise.
She's missed her chance.
But all is not lost.
With night approaching, she'll try again in the cover of darkness
n freezing temperatures...
traveling as far as 20 miles overnight,
to catch her prey off-guard.
As the morning sun climbs the slopes of the Andes,
the puma's victory is revealed.
Using her incredible eyesight,
she has made a kill during the night.
And the dawn finds her still feasting.
But she needs to keep a watchful eye for company.
There are many others in these mountains
who could benefit from the guanaco's meat.
Patagonian pumas have to make 50% more kills
than their North American relatives to eat the same amount.
These cats have serious competition.
The mountains conceal countless carnivores who want their share.
Life is tough at these altitudes.
Most choose lower climbs.
With food so scarce,
the puma must eat as fast as she can,
and run before the scavengers arrive.
One carnivore has an aerial advantage.
Andean condors are the real masters of these mountains.
They are amongst the largest flying birds in the world.
This male has a wingspan of over ten feet.
Perfect for effortless gliding.
He weighs 30 pounds,
as much as the average dog.
With such heft the condor capitalizes
on the mountain's strong winds and morning thermals...
soaring to heights of 18,000 feet with minimal effort.
From his airborne vantage point,
he has spotted the puma's prize from several miles away.
But he's not the first to arrive.
An Argentine gray fox is making the most of the free meal.
Andean condors are carrion feeders and opportunistic thieves.
With a sharp hooked beak and an insatiable appetite...
the condor makes light work of ripping apart
what remains of the dead guanaco.
Caracaras also arrive to take a share of the bounty.
In just a few hours, nothing but bones will be left.
The harsh reality of life in the mountains
does little to detract from their desolate beauty.
This is a landscape 30-million years in the making.
Beneath the South Pacific Ocean, lies the Nazca tectonic plate.
Million of years ago it collided,
and was forced under the South American plate,
forcing the land above to buckle and rise.
Lifting an ancient seabed far above the surface
over the course of 30-million years.
Creating some of the highest mountains
and volcanoes in the world.
Changing the landscape of South America forever.
Volcanic ash carried on the wind
cloaked and petrified the forests that once covered this land...
leaving behind incredible stone monuments
to the landscape of the past.
A reminder that Argentina was once covered in rich green forests.
The Andes have rewritten the natural history of Argentina.
Creators of this moonlike landscape.
In the high plateaus of the Andean Mountains...
at an altitude of around 11,000 feet...
strange geometric shapes crisscross a wide white landscape.
Salinas Grandes is one of South America's biggest salt pans.
Literally translating as "salt desert"
this is the remains of what was once an ancient lake.
Trapped by the rising of the Andes,
the lake disappeared over 10,000 years ago.
Today the wind continually strips the surface of the lakebed,
carrying tiny pieces of salt far across the Patagonian steppe.
But not all salt pans are such vacant wastelands.
Laguna Brava or Brave Lake lies just west of Salinas Grandes
at over 13,000 feet.
Like much of the Andes,
the volcanoes that surround this salt pan
are an indication of its ancient origins.
It's still possible to find mud pools like these
high in the mountains.
Nearly 2,000 acres make up this salt-pan water mirror.
A shard of silver in a patchwork of color.
In spring the dusty hues of the desert
are brought to life with the arrival of a flamboyant seasonal visitor.
Flamingos.
Thousands have descended on Laguna Brava.
Their pink coloration comes from their diet of shrimp and algae,
which they filter from the salty shallows.
They have migrated here from nearby Bolivia and Chile.
The reason why soon becomes clear.
This dusty plateau, high in the mountains,
becomes a stage for a spectacular dance.
This is no frivolous footwork.
Flamingos use dance to find a partner.
If a female is impressed with the male's moves,
she will leave with him, and they will mate for life.
The water here is too salty for most other animals.
Most of the wildlife in the mountains
relies on using initiative.
The guanacos have followed water down the mountain to a plateau lake.
With spring in full force,
the herd swells in numbers as the final chulengos are born.
Only two weeks after birth, the mothers are ready to mate again.
Nearly all the offspring in this herd share the same father.
But it's not an easy life for the dominant male.
Younger, fitter males frequently challenge his hierarchy,
and finding time to mate can be a struggle.
He chases the young contender, attempting to trip and injure.
This headlock is test of strength.
Fighting can be vicious,
as each male tries to attack the other's most prized possession.
Protecting one's assets during battle isn't an easy task.
Finally, the newcomer gives up.
He knows he won't always lose.
Order has been restored.
For now.
East of the Andes, stretching from the foothills is a barren wasteland.
The Patagonian steppe covers 260,000 square miles.
An area almost as large as Texas.
The mountains cast a rain shadow across Argentina
that can be seen from space.
As summer approaches the temperatures during the day
rise by 25 degrees in a matter of hours.
What rain the plateau receives through spring stops altogether.
The dry air that crests the mountains
becomes so cold at these heights,
that when it meets the Andes' eastern flanks it rapidly falls.
As it follows the slopes down,
the air picks up speed due to compression changes.
Creating winds over 70 miles per hour...
which hurtle down the Andes' slopes...
and spread out across Argentina's desert...
the seventh largest in the world.
Sandstone canyons are sculpted by the winds.
And animals and plants must do all they can to protect themselves
from the extreme elements.
One peculiar creature has found that the best way
to escape the howling gales is to make its home underground.
These strange rabbit-like animals are members of the rodent family.
Patagonian mara are closely related to guinea pigs.
With short front legs and four sharp claws,
they are well adapted to digging.
It's the females who have dug this burrow in the soft sandstone.
Here, babies from different families are raised together,
n a communal nursery.
Protected from the elements, as well as predators.
Unusually for rodents, the mara are active during the day...
and spend most of their waking hours either grazing,
or basking in the hot Patagonian sun.
Mara parents are monogamous,
and a female will only nurse her own offspring.
Using her keen sense of smell, she's able to detect her own.
Imposters aren't tolerated.
With so many predators around, it's important to have a lookout.
It doesn't take much to make them nervous.
With a single alarm call from a neighbor...
everyone races to safety.
The babies dive underground...
and the adults scatter.
In a very peculiar way.
This bizarre hopping allows the mara to travel surprisingly fast.
Almost 30 miles per hour.
Thankfully, it's a false alarm.
Maras aren't the only weird and wonderful creatures on the steppe.
In this treeless landscape,
even owls have learnt to live on the ground.
Like many of Patagonia's residents, burrowing owls use underground nests
to protect their young from the cold sand-laden winds of the steppe.
But unlike the mara these owls don't always excavate their own.
Instead, they'll use a burrow owned by someone else.
And they won't give it up without a fight.
This is a steppe standoff.
Once they have procured the burrow,
the female lays seven eggs,
which she will incubate for a month.
In summer the chicks will make their first foray outside the nest.
But until then the winds of the steppe are only just bearable.
Here in the Patagonian steppe,
every corner of the compass offers vast uninterrupted horizons.
The creatures of the desert might be unaware of the Andes...
but even this far east,
Argentina's landscape is defined by the mountains.
In the sandblasted passageways between hardy shrubs,
one enterprising animal is at home in the wilderness.
Everything about the large hairy armadillo
s perfectly adapted for desert life.
Patagonia is the furthest southern limit of this creature's range.
Like all armadillos,
ts head and body are covered in protective bony plates.
Long coarse hairs also add a protective layer.
This species is an accomplished digger.
Its powerful claws make light work of burrowing...
and special membranes in its nose
allow it to extract oxygen from the soil without inhaling any.
Armadillos have poor eyesight,
but they make up for it with a fantastic sense of smell.
Unusually for an armadillo this far south,
conditions have created meat eaters.
This one capitalizes on an abandoned kill.
A hare's misfortune is a lucky break for the armadillo.
Armadillos are usually omnivores.
Those that live closer to the equator
mainly eat insects and plants,
but here the large hairy armadillo
has had to find a way to cope with the lack of resources.
The softest flesh is eaten first.
As the temperatures climb in the midday sun,
the armadillo needs to retreat underground,
where his meal can be saved for later.
Even with the steppe's smallest residents,
the mountains have been the driving force for evolution.
Even though it has fully formed wings,
this darkling beetle cannot fly.
Over the course of thousands of years,
ts wings have fused together.
It has no chance of taking flight in such gusts.
The only way for this beetle to escape the fierce winds
s to bury himself until it's safe to come out again.
He's an expert excavator.
It's not just the animals here that have had to adapt to the desert.
Plants have also evolved to cope in the harsh conditions.
This agave plant is a succulent, specially adapted to storing water.
The leaves are coated in a wax-like substance
to prevent water evaporating through the surface,
and are shaped to allow the plant to efficiently capture water
from rain and dew.
The needles on this plant defend it from animals
attempting to get at its water supply.
They are so tough that ancient civilizations
used them as sewing needles.
Even the grasses of the steppe are hardy survivors...
blanketing Patagonia for millions of years.
Every living creature and plant in Patagonia's desert
s locked in a battle with thirst.
One of Argentina's most feared residents
s well adapted to the arid conditions of the steppe.
This male tarantula gets most of his liquids from his prey.
But at this time of year his focus is on more pressing matters.
He's on the hunt for a female.
He'll travel for weeks on end in his quest for a female.
It isn't long before he finds a burrow entrance
with all the right signs.
Traces of her web outside the burrow contain pheromones,
chemical messages to alert passing males of her presence.
He taps the ground to send a coded message
to the female tarantula inside.
He's checking if she's open to visitors.
If he gets this wrong, or the message is lost in translation,
she might come out only to kill him.
But, luckily, she's in the mood for romance.
He strokes her legs gently but quickly in order to subdue her.
Sending her into a paralyzed trance.
Using small hooks on his front legs called tibial spurs,
he keeps her fangs away from him in case she suddenly decides
she'd rather have the male as a snack than a suitor.
The male has specially adapted organs called pedipalps,
which carry a small pocket of spider silk sprayed with his sperm.
While the female is under his spell,
he quickly deposits the packet of sperm
nto the female's reproductive organs.
And makes a quick getaway.
The female will remain in her trance for another few minutes,
giving him enough time to make it to safety.
Later she'll use his sperm to fertilize her eggs.
This female could have over 400 babies this year.
For the male it's time to hit the road again,
and find the next burrow.
Some of the desert's residents are already in the throes of parenthood.
But this is no doting mother.
In rhea relationships, it's the father who does most of the work.
Two months ago, after mating and laying her eggs,
the female abandoned her unhatched offspring,
and their father spent 40 days incubating the eggs.
These chicks all hatched within 36 hours,
and have been on the run ever since.
Rhea are flightless birds,
so they must keep moving to avoid predators,
staying close together,
and communicating with whistles when one falls behind.
When fully grown they run at speeds of almost 40 miles per hour.
Their father is devoted.
For six months he will stay with them,
guiding them across the steppe,
and showing them how to forage for roots, seeds and leaves.
It is an endlessly nomadic existence.
The Patagonian steppe stretches the entire width of Argentina.
Over 800 miles, east of the Andes,
the desert finally plunges into the South Atlantic.
Here the animals of the steppe
coexist with visiting ocean voyagers.
Desert intermingles with sandy beaches.
Since their formation 30-million years ago,
the Andes have defined the landscape of much of Argentina.
From the slopes to the sea, these mountains dictate the climate.
Creators of the howling Patagonian winds.
Gatekeepers of the rain.
The extreme conditions of the Andes
have forced the animals and plants of Argentina
to evolve and adapt in unimaginable ways.
Only at the coast does their control abate
nto the waves of the fierce Atlantic Ocean.
Across Argentina the steppe bears the scars of the Andes' rule.
These mountains are the creators of the wilderness.
Subtitles: Asha Chong www.btistudios.com