Some marmots are quite curious about backpackers, and are willing to inspect you pretty closely!
What is the first animal that comes to mind when you think of the high backcountry of the Sierra Nevada? Most neophytes would immediately pick the black bear; our ursine friends certainly get lots of publicity. Anyone who actually spends significant amount of time hiking the Sierras would most likely pick the yellow-bellied marmot. If, like your favorite sports team, the John Muir Trail ever got a mascot, it would have to be that friendly, giant, ground-squirrel.
You will usually spot the yellow-bellied marmot (marmota flaviventris) on the second day of your southbound hike. Although their range technically begins at around 6,500 feet elevation, I’ve never seen one below 7,500 feet. I usually see the first ones around Sunrise Camp. From then on marmot sightings will probably be a daily event.
Here are a few more dry facts, before we get to the important stuff. Adults stand (and they often stand!) a couple of feet tall and weigh in at around ten pounds. Males outweigh females. They are territorial; a typical territory can be as large as seven acres, although, in rougher terrain, it may be a lot smaller. They are social, living in groups of one or two dozen under the leadership of a dominant male. They hibernate in good-sized dens. How long they spend in those dens, sleeping the winter away, depends on the elevation and the weather that winter. You won’t see many if you are hiking later than mid-September or before mid-May.
They are mostly vegetarians, although they do go in for a tasty bug or bird egg. I’ve watched them chase grasshoppers with such diligence that I assume they are a true delicacy.
It has been my experience that you will find two kids of marmots on your hike: those who want no part of humans (and will scamper under or behind a rock as soon as you are detected), and those who just can’t control their curiosity. I’ve never been close enough to touch one, but I’ve had them sit on the top of rocks, posing, within six feet of the trail. I suspect that the brave ones have come to associate backpackers with snacks. Although I have never fed one – and I wouldn’t suggest you do – neither could I condemn, too vigorously, a hiker who traded a few M&Ms for a memorable wildlife photo.
I know we aren’t supposed to anthropomorphize the wildlife, but anyone who doesn’t want to pick up one of these little critters and give them a hug might want to want check with the cardiologist – you may have left your heart somewhere back on the trail. (Of course, Mr. or Mrs. Marmot would likely not interpret that hug as a sign of affection and would probably bite the heck out of you. Marmots have numerous sharp teeth!)
The best reaction to a posing marmot is to simply smile back at this furry little creature and be grateful for the moment.
One last thing: they are not only photogenic, they are clever! If marmots are in the area you may want to ensure that candy bar you are saving for later is in your canister (not in the pocket of your backpack) before you take your lunch nap. They are smart enough to know that large, colorful backpacks often reward the persistent chewer with sweet, sweet treats. You will find them substantially less charming if they gnaw a hole through your gear!
Here in Alaska, we have Hoary marmots (not horny marmots, no matter what dimwitted tour guides will tell you. Even some locals think they are called horny marmots!) They too can be very curious about backpackers. I once stashed my food in a trash bag (before they issued bear barrels in Denali for some wilderness areas) and left it under rocks, high up and away from my tent. Slept well, got up early and didn’t have my contacts in when I exited the tent. I decided to go get the food and make coffee, and as I approached saw a small “bear” investigating my food bag! I quickly returned to my tent and got my hiking partner who was a bit annoyed when she discovered a marmot, not a bear. Doh! At 100 yards, without my eyes in… oh well.
Marmots do like to chew through camper gear. This guy didn’t get our stuff, fortunately, but I’m glad for bear canisters now!
Thanks for the story, Karen. Great stuff. Backpacking certainly has its moments!
I have to tell my story, then. It was a rainy September Tuesday in 1999 in Juneau, and I had day hiked up the trail that starts at the foot of 6th Street and emerges from the woods at the top of the tram. Above the tram, a much more groomed trail continues up, accommodating the cruise ship passengers who have taken the tram up to that point. Anyway, I had continued up the groomed trail, merging with the cruise ship passengers carrying umbrellas, and on my way back down one of them began excitedly yelling and pointing to a “bear cub” a few feet off the trail. I looked and it was a beautiful fat marmot. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.
Love the story, Gail. Thanks so much for posting it!
They are also known for chewing on wires and cables under cars’ hoods in the parking lot (Whitney Portal) below Mt. Whitney. Not good if it happens to be your brake cable! I love them, however!
item in my book on women’s backpacking: http://bit.ly/1YXNXAr
Oh dear. Definitely less cute. Thanks for the comment (and the link), Susan.
At upper Boy Scout Lake (Mt. Whitney), many years ago, a marmot chewed a hole in my tent, ate some of my food, and chewed a different hole to leave. This was before bear canisters.
A marmot lived under the summit rock on Alta Peak in Sequoia NP. It would join the summiteers and share their snacks. I learned that marmots smell bad and never brush their teeth. Don’t get too close!
The marmots in Mineral King will severely damage a car by chewing holes in brake cables. You are not allowed to park overnight there. The park staff wraps their cars in chicken wire. I’m sad that is happening in Whitney Portal.
I have been backpacking in the Sierra since 1968, and now see (and hear) far fewer marmots than those early years. I don’t know why, but brake fluid poisoning isn’t helping.
Thanks, Mike. All interesting stuff! (I agree about the fewer marmots; I’ve made the same observation.)