If you followed last month’s blog you’re now familiar with Junior. If you didn’t, you should read that first because, well, he’s just one of the most interesting ski legends there is and a piece of living history here in Little Cottonwood.
Our story picks up where we left off, just below the summit of Hidden Peak and on the mineral side. Standing by the bench dedicated to Junior’s wife Maxine and facing west. There, along the wildflower hiking trail, sits the object of this month’s blog: pikas. If you’re not acquainted with these adorable mammals, be forewarned, they are without doubt the cutest furred canyon residents.
Junior’s been a keen observer for most of his life and he and Maxine would spend hours at elevation just quietly observing them going about their harvesting. So, before we go on our tour of the families that inhabit the upper slopes of Snowbird, just what are these critters?
Think of miniature rabbits and you have the right visualization, and also a closely related and scientifically aligned relative. They’re only six to seven inches long, covered with fur (including between the pads on their paws), have no tail and, in our canyon at least, live between 10,000 and 11,000 feet. Elsewhere they can inhabit down to around 8,500 feet. Their lifespan is a half dozen years and females of the American pika have litters of two to three.
Junior points out his favorite nest. “That’s the biggest haystack I know here.” Indicating an easily identified haystack in the rocky bowl midway along the wildflower trail. And he means the surrounding nests that inhabit the mountain tops along Snowbird’s peaks.
“It’s been moved from the older haystack you can see farther to the west.” Sure enough, there’s ancient dried grass and stems sitting on the rocks 100 feet away. Pikas forage in the summer as soon as the snow clears the rocky patches they prefer to nest below and burrow beneath. Unlike other high altitude mammals they don’t hibernate. That’s what the large piles of greenery are for. They are literally making haystacks to dry the grass for consumption during the majority of the year they spend in darkness beneath your ski tracks.
Older piles are abandoned for the next year’s harvest though they build in the same sites for decades. “I’ve been watching this location for 15 or 20 years,” says our ski legend. We watch while a mature pika retrieves a mouthful of wildflowers to stack on top in the sun, distracted only long enough to chase off a smaller pika “teenage” interloper. “You don’t see that very often,” he observes. “They usually leave each other alone.”
To Canyon Blog, no stranger to raising teenagers, it doesn’t seem so surprising. The kid probably had it coming. His observations indicate that the rock field in mineral, and another just off the west side of Hidden Peak toward Regulator Johnson, are shared by two to three families. No doubt with more pika versions of teenage drama.
One note of caution: pikas are shy creatures and human interaction or proximity is not desired. Too close and you can impact their ability to forage so be sure to give them their space. Remember, it’s not easy raising a teenager…