Meeting a Marmot*
Yellow-bellied Marmot
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The first sight of the furry shape with a short tail lumbering across the road near my new house immediately sent my curiosity into high gear ... what was this creature, and how did it manage to live in such close proximity to humans? I had just moved to Central Oregon, and the animal, whatever it was, seemed to be a harbinger of the living-close-to-nature ambiance of which Bend, Oregon is so famous.
My best guess to its identity was a beaver, although I knew that wasn't quite right as there were no streams around. A little investigation revealed the animal's living quarters: a pile of concrete rubble in a field where it and other members of its clan could often be seen sunning themselves on fine, warm days. |
I found myself trying to catch a glimpse ... brownish shapes either spread out flat or standing upright among the jumble of grey concrete ... as I drove or walked by. Sometimes if I got too close, I heard a piercing whistle, obviously a warning signal produced by one of their guards who stood viewing the landscape with its keen eyes and listening with sharp ears. The idea of a community of animals working together made me even more inquisitive.
Eventually, I was able to identify these, the third largest members of the rodent family, as yellow-bellied marmots. Variously called whistling pig and mountain mouse (French), this cousin to the woodchuck is common in western mountain ranges. Unlike woodchucks, rockchucks as we call them, have white coloring between their eyes in a dark face. Their long, thick coats are grey and brown with white tips on the guard hairs which grow on their sides and backs. Rockchucks jump and climb with ease and can sit erect because of their short fore legs and agile hind legs.
Now alerted to the animal's presence in Bend, I began to look for it in other likely locations around town. I found colonies in rock piles at Hollingshead park, in front of an elementary school and in a little meadow across from my house.
I called the High Desert Museum to ask why they had no marmots on display. The Museum's answer was typical. Yes, marmots are interesting critters, but in proximity to humans they can be definite pests. The Bend Park District echoed that view. Marmots were undermining the foundation of the old barn at the park and had eaten all the petunias planted around the Bend sign on the north side of town. (No one cared to explain how these problems were solved.) Alfalfa farmers frequently have to remove rockchucks from their fields in order to protect their crops.
My teen-aged son reported that it seemed to be considered great sport among some of his peers to go rockchuck hunting and also to run this slow-moving animal over as it attempted to cross the road. It seemed that this bright-eyed creature that I was growing more and more fond of definitely had a dark side, at least in many Central-Oregonian's eyes. As is often the case, wild animals and humans were at odds.
Still, for me, "to know them is to love them," and I continued my self-education of the marmots' life-style. A librarian at the Bend branch of the Deschutes County Library, suggested I check out a book by a local wildlife photographer, Joe Van Wormer, entitled There's a Marmot on the Telephone. Van Wormer tells of his adoption of an young woodchuck whose family he was photographing at a small ranch owned by Dean Hollingshead.
Floogie, as the little guy was named, provided a fascinating insight into the habits and personality of his species. Ever curious, he caused a good deal anxiety, hilarity, and affection for his human family.
As newborns, Floogie and his kind are blind, naked and helpless. They measure about four inches in length and weigh about three ounces. Their eyes open in about 20 to 25 days and at about 39 days, they are ready for their first venture outside the den. It is then that they get their taste of vegetation...roots, herbs and grasses...while continuing to nurse. As adults, marmots get all their liquid through plant material, which explains why they can be found in dry meadows far from a continuous water source.
In his first encounter with Floogie's family, Van Wormer noted that the adults stand guard while the young play. And play, they do, squeaking happily, rolling down slopes, and doing mock battle with one another, pushing each other in the chest with a flat hand. The marmots' chief predator is the golden eagle, fox, bobcat, and pine marten.
Marmots seem to enjoy body contact which explains Floogie's easy adjustment to human petting and cuddling. They often lie closely together for hours in their den and display tender behavior towards one another. Marmots, like man, bear, raccoon and skunks are plantigrade mammals. That is, they walk flat-footed, the complete sole of each foot from toe to heel. One of the hind feet steps exactly into the print of the front foot, leaving only three foot prints.
As I returned again and again to the meadow across the street, with its small mountain of lava in the center and lower piles of rubble dispersed here and there, I began to discover "my" marmots' particular habits. Well-trodden paths led from rock pile to rock pile. There seemed to be two dens plus lookouts. I was able to identify these by the amount of scat found concentrated there. I even found a skull of one of the animals nearby.
One day as I climbed the mountain, a wonderful place of retreat, I heard the now-familiar warning whistle. Coming to the top and peering down into a rock crevice, I spied two shoe-button eyes staring back at me. We stayed like that for some time. I kept a steady flow of soft conversation going while my friend studied me over. I have no doubt he could have taken a back route out of the crack, but apparently feeling out of harm’s way, he seemed to want to stay and study me as much as I wanted to study him. Together, we shared the mountain.
In wintertime, I thought of the entire rockchuck clan sleeping away in deep hibernation in their cozy dens, blissfully removed from cold winds and blowing snow, their noses tucked between their legs. I knew that in August, they had begun to cut grasses and plant stalks in large quantities with their sharp incisors and to lay them out to dry. Later, all members of the clan used this "hay" to line their nests for insulation and winter food. Also during the summer, marmots accumulate fat reserves which are about 20% of their total body weight, living on this in the dormant months.
Rockchuck dens are excavated with strong digging claws. Each den has an entrance about the size of a fist, leading to a narrow hallway, often over one meter long. This is usually divided into two passageways, one used as camouflage, the other side, a long tunnel, 8-10 meters long leading to the rounded den. There is also an anti-chamber used as a latrine. The animals are quite neat by human standards, plugging these latrines up when full and digging new ones. While hibernating, they awake every 3-4 weeks to defecate and urinate. Their hibernation lasts for about nine months, although sometimes marmots will emerge for short periods of warmer winter weather.
In the spring, I kept my eyes open for signs of my rockchucks' new activity. One day I walked around one of the dens and heard a welcoming sound: small chirps I took to be infant marmots making their first vocalization. The scraping of a rock under my shoe and there was instant silence. I smiled, for I knew the marmot clan would emerge one day soon and begin their spring housecleaning.
*Originally written for the High Desert Museum Newsletter
Eventually, I was able to identify these, the third largest members of the rodent family, as yellow-bellied marmots. Variously called whistling pig and mountain mouse (French), this cousin to the woodchuck is common in western mountain ranges. Unlike woodchucks, rockchucks as we call them, have white coloring between their eyes in a dark face. Their long, thick coats are grey and brown with white tips on the guard hairs which grow on their sides and backs. Rockchucks jump and climb with ease and can sit erect because of their short fore legs and agile hind legs.
Now alerted to the animal's presence in Bend, I began to look for it in other likely locations around town. I found colonies in rock piles at Hollingshead park, in front of an elementary school and in a little meadow across from my house.
I called the High Desert Museum to ask why they had no marmots on display. The Museum's answer was typical. Yes, marmots are interesting critters, but in proximity to humans they can be definite pests. The Bend Park District echoed that view. Marmots were undermining the foundation of the old barn at the park and had eaten all the petunias planted around the Bend sign on the north side of town. (No one cared to explain how these problems were solved.) Alfalfa farmers frequently have to remove rockchucks from their fields in order to protect their crops.
My teen-aged son reported that it seemed to be considered great sport among some of his peers to go rockchuck hunting and also to run this slow-moving animal over as it attempted to cross the road. It seemed that this bright-eyed creature that I was growing more and more fond of definitely had a dark side, at least in many Central-Oregonian's eyes. As is often the case, wild animals and humans were at odds.
Still, for me, "to know them is to love them," and I continued my self-education of the marmots' life-style. A librarian at the Bend branch of the Deschutes County Library, suggested I check out a book by a local wildlife photographer, Joe Van Wormer, entitled There's a Marmot on the Telephone. Van Wormer tells of his adoption of an young woodchuck whose family he was photographing at a small ranch owned by Dean Hollingshead.
Floogie, as the little guy was named, provided a fascinating insight into the habits and personality of his species. Ever curious, he caused a good deal anxiety, hilarity, and affection for his human family.
As newborns, Floogie and his kind are blind, naked and helpless. They measure about four inches in length and weigh about three ounces. Their eyes open in about 20 to 25 days and at about 39 days, they are ready for their first venture outside the den. It is then that they get their taste of vegetation...roots, herbs and grasses...while continuing to nurse. As adults, marmots get all their liquid through plant material, which explains why they can be found in dry meadows far from a continuous water source.
In his first encounter with Floogie's family, Van Wormer noted that the adults stand guard while the young play. And play, they do, squeaking happily, rolling down slopes, and doing mock battle with one another, pushing each other in the chest with a flat hand. The marmots' chief predator is the golden eagle, fox, bobcat, and pine marten.
Marmots seem to enjoy body contact which explains Floogie's easy adjustment to human petting and cuddling. They often lie closely together for hours in their den and display tender behavior towards one another. Marmots, like man, bear, raccoon and skunks are plantigrade mammals. That is, they walk flat-footed, the complete sole of each foot from toe to heel. One of the hind feet steps exactly into the print of the front foot, leaving only three foot prints.
As I returned again and again to the meadow across the street, with its small mountain of lava in the center and lower piles of rubble dispersed here and there, I began to discover "my" marmots' particular habits. Well-trodden paths led from rock pile to rock pile. There seemed to be two dens plus lookouts. I was able to identify these by the amount of scat found concentrated there. I even found a skull of one of the animals nearby.
One day as I climbed the mountain, a wonderful place of retreat, I heard the now-familiar warning whistle. Coming to the top and peering down into a rock crevice, I spied two shoe-button eyes staring back at me. We stayed like that for some time. I kept a steady flow of soft conversation going while my friend studied me over. I have no doubt he could have taken a back route out of the crack, but apparently feeling out of harm’s way, he seemed to want to stay and study me as much as I wanted to study him. Together, we shared the mountain.
In wintertime, I thought of the entire rockchuck clan sleeping away in deep hibernation in their cozy dens, blissfully removed from cold winds and blowing snow, their noses tucked between their legs. I knew that in August, they had begun to cut grasses and plant stalks in large quantities with their sharp incisors and to lay them out to dry. Later, all members of the clan used this "hay" to line their nests for insulation and winter food. Also during the summer, marmots accumulate fat reserves which are about 20% of their total body weight, living on this in the dormant months.
Rockchuck dens are excavated with strong digging claws. Each den has an entrance about the size of a fist, leading to a narrow hallway, often over one meter long. This is usually divided into two passageways, one used as camouflage, the other side, a long tunnel, 8-10 meters long leading to the rounded den. There is also an anti-chamber used as a latrine. The animals are quite neat by human standards, plugging these latrines up when full and digging new ones. While hibernating, they awake every 3-4 weeks to defecate and urinate. Their hibernation lasts for about nine months, although sometimes marmots will emerge for short periods of warmer winter weather.
In the spring, I kept my eyes open for signs of my rockchucks' new activity. One day I walked around one of the dens and heard a welcoming sound: small chirps I took to be infant marmots making their first vocalization. The scraping of a rock under my shoe and there was instant silence. I smiled, for I knew the marmot clan would emerge one day soon and begin their spring housecleaning.
*Originally written for the High Desert Museum Newsletter
