That year, Argentina's former military government imported 25 pairs of beavers from Canada, hoping they would multiply and create a fur industry among the chilly, lush forests on this large island at the very tip of South America.Multiply they did. But the fur trade never quite caught on, and there were no natural predators. So today there are tens of thousands of beavers wreaking havoc across Tierra del Fuego -- felling trees, damming up rivers and stirring scandal among the humans as they butt heads over how to solve the problem.
"The beavers are an enormous headache, a plague, and the worst part is that nobody can agree on a solution," said Adriana Guillen, head of the local wildlife department, as she shook her head in bewildered disgust.
The debate has pitted ecologists against animal rights activists, and government officials against each other. Stuck in the middle are tourism companies, who are turning the furry critters into a side trip for a booming tide of foreigners putting in to port on luxury cruises to nearby Antarctica.
On one recent summer evening, when the sun didn't fade away until well after midnight, a guide took a small group to the edge of a small marsh littered with gnawed, fallen trees.
After a good 15 minutes waiting in silence, the water rippled and an overgrown beaver churned through the pond.
"Look! I saw a beaver!" shrieked a Belgian tourist, jumping up and down in delight as her boyfriend snapped photos.
At the end of the night, the tourists huddled around a fire and ate a homemade stew -- made of beef. "You're not eating beaver," the guide assured them, to a round of laughter. The total cost for the four-hour trip ran at about $40.
BEAVER TOURS, MEAT, HANDBAGS
Nobody knows how many "beaver tourists" there have been so far, but the recent wave of interest has rekindled a debate that has raged for years: by what means, and to what extent should the beaver population be controlled.
In his famous 1977 travel book "In Patagonia," British author Bruce Chatwin nearly got stuck in a swamp created by the misplaced animals.
"This 'beaver tourism' is a scandal," Guillen said. "The beavers need to be controlled, not idealized. They're ruining the environment."
The local government offers hunters about $1.50 for every beaver they kill, and every week somebody shows up with a truckload of bloody tails as proof of their work. But the bounty is so low that the hunting has little effect.
Another dark episode in Tierra del Fuego's past has ruled out more creative solutions. In 1900, immigrants brought in European rabbits -- which then did what they are known for. That prompted settlers to introduce the fox, which then hunted sheep on nearby farms and ravaged the local economy.
"It's a more-difficult problem to solve than you might think," laughed Julio Lovece, tourism secretary in the nearby town of Ushuaia. "Some people say the beaver is a plague. But I say humans do much more damage!"
Paintings of beavers hang in Lovece's office, and can be found in restaurants and hotels all over Ushuaia. Meanwhile, a new ski resort nearby is named "Beaver Mountain," and some local entrepreneurs have just this month begun producing hats and gloves made from beavers.
The consumption of beaver is technically prohibited, but if a tourist meets the right people he or she can get a small Tupperware container filled with marinated meat and onions. Beaver meat is grainy and tough, and tastes a lot like deer.
Tito Baserga, a local guide, has started a business with his wife aimed at exporting beaver meat, keychains and wallets, since Argentine products are dirt-cheap in dollars following a recent economic crisis.
"I want people to love the beavers, but not so much that they can't be exploited. My wife and I want to live off the beavers," said Baserga. "Besides -- the fact they're here in Tierra del Fuego really isn't their fault, is it?"