ANA CAROLINE DE LIMA

The vicuña, with its delicate cinnamon-colored fleece, is more than just a native Andean species—it’s Peru’s national symbol, gracing its currency and evoking centuries of reverence. Once numbering in the millions across the high Andes, vicuñas were sacred to the Inca, who believed they had mystical powers. Killing them was strictly forbidden, and only Inca nobility could wear garments woven from their prized fleece.

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At the height of the empire, the Incas pioneered an early form of wildlife conservation: the Chaccu. In this annual ceremonial roundup, thousands would form a vast human semicircle, driving the vicuñas into a natural enclosure. The old and infirm were culled for meat and pelts, while healthy females and males were gently shorn and set free. The resulting cloth was treated like gold and stored in imperial warehouses.

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Centuries later, Spanish conquistadors arrived with firearms—and greed. By the mid-20th century, rampant hunting to feed luxury markets in the U.S. and Europe pushed the vicuña to the brink of extinction, with fewer than 10,000 animals remaining in the wild. In Peru, the population dropped to under 7,000.

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In 1975, CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species) listed the vicuña as “most endangered” and banned international trade. Yet poaching persisted, driven by black-market prices of up to $1,000 per kilo of fleece. Protecting animals across such a vast, rugged landscape proved nearly impossible. Then, Peru looked to its past to secure the vicuña’s future.

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Officials revived the traditional Chaccu, but this time, they handed stewardship of the vicuñas to the rural communities that shared their land. Villagers were granted legal rights to shear and sell the fiber, making live-shearing a sustainable source of income for some of Peru’s poorest regions. A shorn vicuña, worthless to poachers, became its own protection.

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The strategy worked. By the 1990s, the population rebounded. In 1994, the international trade ban was lifted, and by 2008, the vicuña was removed from the endangered species list—one of the few wildlife comeback stories of its kind. Today, Chaccus still take place, mostly in isolated Andean communities. In touristic areas, they’re often celebratory affairs with music, costumes, and ceremonies offering fleece to the Sun God. But in remote regions like Picotani—set at extreme altitudes—the tradition remains deeply rooted and solemn.

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There, the entire community joins the effort. Adults ride motorbikes to herd the animals, then men and women walk in lines, shouting to guide the vicuñas toward a natural bottleneck. Rangers oversee the event to ensure the animals aren’t harmed, and a local shaman seeks permission from the mountain spirit, or Apu, the day before—an ancient Inca tradition still alive today.

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After shearing, the fleece is sorted and exported. With fibers just 12–14 microns thick (finer than cashmere or mohair), vicuña wool is among the rarest and softest in the world. Italian luxury house Loro Piana, which helped create a private reserve in 2008, is one of the few companies equipped to process it. Their vicuña suits can sell for upwards of $25,000. Despite the high market value, communities like Picotani earn just around $150 per animal each year—shared collectively. Still, in a region where farming is nearly impossible due to altitude, the vicuña offers both cultural pride and economic survival.