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Untangling the Threads of North Cascades’ Marmot Decline

North Cascades National Park

Hoary marmots, chubby rodents closely related to groundhogs, are a familiar sight in mountain meadows and talus fields from the Cascades as far north as Alaska. But in North Cascades National Park near southern end of their range, these hardy mammals are being squeezed by shrinking snowpack. In a new study, scientists ask whether climate change might carry other risks for marmots—risks that walk on four legs.

A coyote walks along a trail toward camera, with ears forward and a brown furry animal with black feet in its mouth. Trail camera watermark at bottom reads 23C, PUPA CAM03, 08/18/2018 05:50PM
Top dog: A coyote with a marmot dinner, seen in a camera trap deployed in 2018 as part of this study.

Washington State University / NPS / Cascades Carnivore Project (color corrected)

Between 2007 and 2016, hoary marmot counts in the park fell by a whopping 74%. In a 2020 study, USGS ecologists in partnership with park biologists linked this decline to chronically dry conditions and low snowpack, combined with acute cold.

Snow acts as a protective blanket during the harsh mountain winter, holding subnivean (below-snow) temperatures constant while marmots slumber in a deep torpor. Without this insulation, hibernating marmots can experience physiological stress, hurting their chances of reproducing in the spring—or even freeze to death.

"We don’t know that it’s catastrophic," cautioned park wildlife biologist Jason Ransom, an author of the 2020 study. Marmot populations go through natural boom-and-bust cycles over time. “Even so, 74%—that’s kind of outside the boundaries of a normal bust.”

More than one factor may be at play. Scientists have linked declines in neighboring Olympic marmots and Vancouver Island marmots, both endemic species with small ranges, to changing patterns of predation. Beyond winter's immediate threat, could retreating snow be opening new doors for resourceful predators?

A group of researchers including Washington State University masters student Logan Whiles, NPS wildlife biologists, and scientists with the nonprofit Cascades Carnivore Project came together to find out. They asked three basic questions:

  1. Who are the biggest predators of hoary marmots at North Cascades?
  2. Where in the park’s marmot habitat are these predators most common?
  3. How are marmots changing their behavior based on predator risk?
Four images: a cougar or mountain lion stalking toward camera, a black bear walking away from camera, a marten (weasel-like animal) sitting with its front legs on a rock, and a lynx with very large paws pacing down a trail.
Predator parade: Images captured on camera traps near marmot colonies over the summers of 2018 and 2019. Clockwise from top left: cougar (mountain lion), black bear, Canada lynx, Pacific marten.

Washington State University / NPS / Cascades Carnivore Project

Likely Suspects

The first step was to map the whereabouts of possible predators. Research teams set up camera traps near 32 marmot colonies across the park and adjacent national recreation areas. Using hundreds of thousands of photos taken throughout the summers of 2018 and 2019, they counted the frequency of ten species that marmots may perceive as predators: cougars, wolverines, grey wolves, bobcats, Canada lynx, black bears, coyotes, Pacific martens, Cascade red foxes, and humans.

With this wealth of data, they created a spatial model for how likely predator species were to use marmot habitat across the park.

Figure from a research paper; see description below.
These maps model the likelihood that each species is present in marmot habitat across the park. Deep purple areas indicate a very low likelihood, while yellow areas have a near-100% chance. Black dots show the locations of the 64 camera traps placed near the studied marmot colonies.

From Whiles et al., 2024

Researchers predicted that typically low-elevation predators—black bears, cougars, wolves, bobcats, and coyotes—would be seen more often at sites with earlier snowmelt. To their surprise, this link was found only in one predator species: coyotes.

The Proof is in the...

While the cameras were standing sentinel at marmot colonies, researchers themselves were busy with something much smellier. To confirm which carnivores make a habit of munching marmots, they collected over 500 pieces of evidence—scat (wildlife poop).

Four people group around a poop on a forest trail with a handheld GPS, datasheets, and other pieces of research gear.
During a training hike, biologists and technicians from NPS, Washington State University, and Cascades Carnivore Project collect a sample of carnivore scat on the trail to Desolation Peak.

Photo courtesy Logan Whiles

“One person looks at the center of the trail, the other person scans the perimeter of the trail, and we would just do that the whole time we hiked,” said study author Logan Whiles. “You definitely start noticing a lot more stuff on the ground. It was fun to learn all their little quirks—like the martens love to defecate on what looks like a high point to them on the trail, like a tiny little rock.”

Some scat was more of a challenge. “We just picked up so much black bear—it’s so wet and so heavy and so large,” laughed Whiles. “We’re trying to backpack long distances for the entire summer, and the bear poop was really weighing us down.” (The second field season, researchers skipped scooping the mostly-vegetarian bear scat unless prey remains were evident.)

A person with a large backpack wading through a rushing, rocky river and smiling at the camera.
Researcher Logan Whiles fords a stream while hiking in search of predator scat. "Coming from Tennessee, it was pretty awesome to be out there. I was really excited those whole two summers for that opportunity," he said. What surprised him most? "How beautiful it was."

Photo courtesy Logan Whiles

Once the scat was packed out and dried, genetic metabarcoding was used to confirm the species of origin and check for marmot DNA. One big surprise came from those dainty marten scats—4% contained marmot DNA, the first record of this weasel relative preying on the often-larger marmots. Coyotes stood above the competition, with one in five scats showing a recent meal of marmot. Marmot remains rarely appeared in wolf, cougar, or black bear scats, and never in bobcat or lynx scats. No wolverine scats were collected.

Enemies in High Places

Armed with the answers to both who the most dangerous predators are and where they are most likely to be, researchers crunched the numbers to predict the risk to marmots from each predator across the North Cascades landscape.

Figure from a paper, see below for description.
These maps model the risk to marmots from each predator species across the park. Deep purple areas have a very low risk from this predator, while green and yellow areas have a higher risk. Black dots show the locations of the 64 camera traps placed near the studied marmot colonies.

From Whiles et al., 2024.

Just one question remained: Are marmots changing their behavior based on risk from predators? More time and energy spent on guard could stress colonies, even if individual marmots avoided an untimely end. The short answer, researchers found, is no.

Observing marmots at their colonies, researchers tracked the amount of time each spent watching for predators compared to other behaviors. (As another measure of vigilance, they also tested the distance at which marmots fled from an approaching researcher.) They expected that in riskier areas—where models predict lots of marmot-munching predators—marmots would keep a closer eye on their surroundings. This pattern was not found in the data, but that doesn’t mean marmots are letting down their guard. The observations showed they spent, on average, over 50% of the time aboveground keeping watch!

A Bad Combination

Like ecosystems themselves, the future of marmots in the North Cascades is interdependent with many factors. One heavyweight in the ring, however, is the coyote.

“Out of all the predator scats that we picked up that had marmot in it, 50% of them came from coyotes,” said Whiles. At the same time, coyote presence at a site was correlated with earlier snowmelt dates—dates which are already creeping earlier as the climate changes.

“When there’s no snow, what we see from this and other studies is that it allows an ‘elevational release’ for carnivores,” added Ransom. “So coyotes are much more likely to wander around up there, because it’s easy.” This points to a possible interactive effect: if the physiological stress of low snowpack meets the risks of easier predator access, the combined effect may be more dangerous than the sum of its parts.

“You’ve got marmots struggling maybe to wake up the same time coyotes are up there,” said Ransom. “That’s a bad combination.”

Three fluffy groundhog-like animals cuddle on a rock
An adult female hoary marmot with two young at Sahale Arm in North Cascades National Park.

NPS / Jason Ransom

What's Next?

Park managers can use these findings to avoid adding extra human-caused stress to marmots when planning projects like new trails. But their tools are limited. “We can’t build a snow globe over the mountains,” said Ransom. “But it’s still important to do the science and monitor what’s happening.”

There is lots left to learn. Carnivore communities themselves are constantly reshaped by outside forces, including human development beyond park boundaries and a rise in wildfire frequency. The slow return of wolves to the park and the recovery of wolverine populations are likely also sending ripples through the predator-prey system.

Even with these unknowns, the cocktail of threats to a beloved North Cascades resident can feel like another gloomy climate story. It’s something the researchers think about too.

“I went into this project looking at that 74% number and it made me really sad, and it still totally can,” said Whiles. But spending time with the marmots and finding colonies that beat the odds has given him hope. “Sometimes I’d show up to this one site at Rainbow Lake—and I need to check in on how that little family’s doing. They just had so many babies,” he added. “They ate my backpack and hiking poles one year.”

Last updated: November 29, 2024