Estimated Read Time: 7 minutes 30 seconds
Marmot/Wolverine
Way up here in the high alpine? You’ve got some nice views. Lingering winter. Lots and lots of rocks. And there’s even a bit of super-powered soil and the hearty vegetation it nurtures.
Oh! And there are marmots and wolverines.
Yes, it’s the story you’ve all been waiting for: Meet the alpine’s portly whistler and its chief nemesis, a predator even more remarkable than a superhero once played by Hugh Jackman.
And I say portly with the utmost respect.
The fact any animal – much less a beaver-sized rodent like the marmot – can make a living in a landscape as harsh as this one is downright amazing. That the very same animal can get, um, portly while doing it? Even more impressive.
Hoary marmot
Can’t believe we were able to capture a photo of the extremely elusive wolverine, but we did!
It’s debated about when this marmot – the hoary marmot – first decided to set-up shop in an area that virtually no other animal wanted, but it’s very likely it had second thoughts about its evolutionary niche right about when the snow started falling.
Luckily for the marmot, they evolved a superpower: sleep. (Should we all be so lucky)
You see, a marmot’s eyelids start getting a wee heavy in the dog days of summer and by September – I mean, fall is so overrated ? – they’re fast asleep.
True hibernators, marmots – unlike those fake-sleepers, bears – stay tucked in their den until mid-May or until the snow recedes just enough to allow them to stop sleeping in their dens and start sleeping on rocks in that rejuvenating sun.
Which might
make you
think marmots
are lazy.
And you’d be right. But, from time to time, they actually do do hard work. Emphasis on the ?do-do?.
After a marmot eats grass, it, well, poops and marmot poop, as it turns out, is a delicacy of the pika – a tiny (creepy?) member of the rabbit family who also thought, why not live in a frozen desert?
Also, as it turns out, pika combine marmot poop with other grassy foods and let that combo ferment – yum! – in the pika’s quasi-cellar. That helps with water filtration up here that, when not in place, can cause all kinds of problems for a whole lot of people downstream, as we’ve learned the hard way.
(Also, I bet you’ll never look at glacier ‘fresh’ water in the same way: you’re welcome!)
So, as you can see, marmots do serve a very important evolutionary purpose by simply pooping ?. (Good for them.)
Kind of important to biodiversity as well is that they’re good at communicating with each other. It’s how they stay alive to poop their super poop.
You see, these social rodents have fairly complex social structures, complete with outcasts.
(Well, recent studies suggest marmots don’t actually like being social but have discovered that being social helps them live longer so they tolerate other marmots…which sounds like a few human families I know. But then again, a lot of marmots I’ve seen sure don’t look like they’re faking their love…also like a few human families I know.)
I don’t know what it takes to tick off a group of marmots, but when ostracized, the outcasts don’t sulk: They stand guard and hope to get back into the clan’s good books by whistling a fair warning to its marmot tormentors when trouble comes a calling.
(Ironically, the hoary marmot’s other name is whistler which is how, you guessed it, everyone’s favourite COVID hotspot – I mean, ski resort – got it’s name. Whistler didn’t want to name their town hoary – fair enough – but naming the town after what is essentially the outcast member of a rodent clan might also not be the best branding accomplishment in the world, but I digress.)
Which, as defenses go, isn’t the best, but I guess it’s better than what the French traditionally offer up. Anyway, what’s a marmots’ alternative? Look cute? I mean they are, but that’s not going to dissuade a wolverine from having a go.
And
wolverines
do have
a go.
They are the primary regulator of the alpine’s pooper-in-chief, though they do prey on more than marmots.