As my eyes scanned the scattered piles of gray rocks and boulders at the base of a steep mountain, my ears concentrated on high-pitched “eep” calls coming from inside the talus slope. After much searching, we had found a colony of small, potato-shaped animals that are close relatives of rabbits—industrious and vocal pikas (PIE-kuh). My friend Jeff and I had climbed above the timberline on a wilderness peak in Colorado in July to observe these amazing creatures with big round ears, along with spectacular wildflowers and 360-degree views.
Talus slopes are created by gravity and rockfall over long geological time scales. These rocky environments provide sheltered spaces that help pikas hide from their predators and survive extreme winter temperatures. Amazingly, pikas do not hibernate. In the summer, they gather and dry grasses and flowers from nearby meadows. Stored in dens within the talus, these “hay piles” of nutrition sustain them through the winter. Pikas are highly adapted to rocky alpine and subalpine areas. In Colorado, this typically means elevations above 11,500 feet. Their mammal neighbors are larger, hibernating marmots. It is not unusual for a resourceful pika to crawl into a marmot den in the winter and snuggle up for warmth.
Reaching pika habitat is no small feat, especially for someone of a certain age who is accustomed to much lower elevations. Gym time at home and western hiking this year prepared me, somewhat, for my breathless climb to more than 12,000 feet. I was slow, but determined, with ultra-light trekking poles, good shoes, and encouragement from Jeff, a devoted pika whisperer. In the talus pile, several adults raced in and out of rock crevices. A gray-furred juvenile pika stood unmoving, peering at us from a safe distance. At another site, we saw neatly stacked hay piles, drying in the sun.
I’ll remember this summer day on the mountain forever. I could not stop marveling over the beauty and diversity of plant and animal life that surrounded us under a blue, mackerel-clouded sky: the kaleidoscopic flowers, conifer and aspen forests, mountain peaks, and diminutive pikas. This magnificent place has been protected as a federal wilderness for nearly half a century. I wondered if that protection would remain, as public lands are threatened by government rollbacks. Will pikas still be scurrying around their rocky homes when my grandson’s children venture up western mountains on their own adventures?
Pikas In Peril
Pikas are extremely sensitive to heat. Temperatures above 77 degrees Fahrenheit, even for a short period, can be lethal. Because of this vulnerability, they serve as living barometers for the impacts of climate change on mountain ecosystems. As temperatures rise, pikas must move up their mountains to higher, cooler elevations—until they reach the top and nowhere left to go.
Colorado’s pika population appears to be stable currently, but its future is in doubt. After living in North America for millions of years, pikas could effectively be gone from Rocky Mountain National Park in just a few human generations. Elsewhere in the west—Nevada, Oregon, California, and Utah—researchers have gathered substantial evidence that directly links pika disappearance to heat associated with climate change.
Wildlife on the Move
Thousands of species set out on heroic journeys every year to follow changing seasons, find warmer weather, and search for food—as they have done for millions of years. The world is always changing, forcing animals, and plants to adapt through evolution, but it takes time: hundreds or even thousands of years. Today, the speed of human-caused climate change is profoundly impacting animal migratory patterns. Even non-migratory species are being forced to shift their habitats, if they can.
Half of all species on Earth appear to be on the move, migrating northward toward higher latitudes. With rising temperatures from global heating, plants bloom earlier or expand into cooler locations—moving food sources and changing animal migration patterns and breeding cycles. Last year was the warmest year since global records began in 1850; the ten warmest years in the historical record have all occurred in the past decade. Many species, including pikas, face the risk of extinction.
Birds are particularly good indicators of environmental change. Studies have documented migration ranges that have shifted northward by forty to 200 miles in just the past fifty years. Coastal mangroves, which provide excellent bird habitat, are moving north from Florida into Georgia. Other species significantly affected by fast-warming temperatures include: polar bears, bald eagles, Pacific salmon, monarch butterflies, shorebirds, sea turtles, whales, and amphibians. Climate change is driving a worldwide redistribution of animals and the extinction of those unable to move quickly, or evolve.
How to Help
Tackling the overarching problem—human-caused greenhouse gas emissions—is the obvious solution to help wildlife outrun Earth’s rapidly changing climate. However, it’s been made much more difficult since the Trump Administration took a sledgehammer to federal climate-related programs. Opportunities to slow global warming exist at the local and state levels in some places. The city of Atlanta is investing in climate resilience projects, but could do much more.
Communities can help struggling migratory animals by creating wildlife crossings (bridges and underpasses) to allow safe passage across roads. They can also adopt zoning and conservation plans to protect habitats; plant native grasses, trees and shrubs for migratory birds and pollinators; and establish citizen science programs to monitor migrating species, such as Audubon’s Christmas Count, locally through Birds Georgia (birdsgeorgia.org)
Nonprofit organizations that focus on climate advocacy and wildlife protection need your support as well. They include Sierra Club (sierraclub.org), National Wildlife Federation (nwf.org), Trout Unlimited (tu.org), and The Nature Conservancy (nature.org). I also support Rocky Mountain Wild (rockymountainwild.org). I want my great-grandchildren to experience a glorious summer day on a western mountain, watching hard-working pikas harvest their hay and squeak at strangers.