The microclimates inside the nooks and crannies of talus help pika cool off in the hot summer sun. As Ray explained, “pikas are clearly being shaped by the cold. Literally, their body shape has been molded by the need to survive long cold winters.” Historically, pikas were never under pressure due to summer heat, so they have no way to cool off like rabbits and hares, the other furry animals in the lagomorph family. Since they are unable to cool off on their own, the warming of their microclimates can be deadly.

Talus slopes, or large fields of rocky debris that have accumulated over time due to rockfall, provide the perfect micro-climate for pika. Ray explains, “You have all these little holes in the rocks and the cool air pulls down in there and the warm air can rise out. And so it’s like a heat pump, and then the ground underneath can stay frozen.”

Surprisingly, it is not just the increase in summertime temperatures that are killing pika. “Places that are warmer in the summer also tend to be places that are getting less snow in the winter, therefore they are colder where a small mammal lives,” Ray explains. The temperature in wintertime drops well below freezing in the mountains, but in areas with more snowfall, the snow acts as an insulating blanket that keeps the talus holes a comfortable temperature for pika. Without the protection that snow offers, pika are exposed to the brutal temperatures that are characteristic of alpine regions. “This may be why pika might be freezing to death due to global warming.”

These changes are heavily impacting pika populations that live at lower elevations, but they are not migrating to higher elevations in order to survive. As Ray explains, “They’re not getting pushed up. They’re dying or failing to reproduce at lower elevations.” In the big picture, Ray predicts that pika will lose over 50 percent of their habitable population.

Scott Landolt, a snow researcher at the National Center for Atmospheric Research, explains what might be causing the decrease of snow we see at lower elevations. “We’re starting to see situations where that transition from rain to snow in the mountains is happening at later times in the year, as well as earlier times in the springtime, where we transition back from snow to rain.”

The melting layer process, or the process of snow transitioning back to rain, is happening earlier at lower elevations. Landolt explains, “With climate change, you can imagine that as the ground warms up more, you are warming that whole profile as you go upwards. So the point at which you’re getting to the freezing level is getting higher and higher above sea level.”

This has had a noticeable effect on pikas’ survival through winter.

As the sun starts to creep behind Mt. Audubon, Ray sits eating a granola bar with her binoculars at the ready. “This is a good time to see some pika,” she says.

After a couple of minutes of silence, a pika flashes from its hay pile to stand guard atop a tall rock. It sits still, observing its surroundings. Ray looks through her binoculars. “No tags on this one,” she observes. In another flash of movement, it darts to a grassy area to forage.

One pika hay pile was decorated with a pinecone. “Hoarders,” Ray explained. “They’ll collect anything.”

Another pika pops up on a rock, protecting the boundaries of its territory from the pika foraging down the slope. While incredibly charming, they aren’t the most social creatures. This pika is tagged, and after watching it for a while, Ray announces it as “Blue-Red-Yellow-Red.”

After some time waiting to see other tagged pika, Ray goes to Blue-Red-Yellow-Red’s haypile to jot down the coordinates and check to see if there is still a temperature gauge in place.

Finding previously placed temperature gauges is always a challenge. Ray has to place them deep enough in the talus to get an accurate reading of the microclimate, out of sight of hikers who might tamper with the equipment, and secure enough that “meddling marmots” don’t move them around. This leads to a bit of a scavenger hunt.

Ray pulls out her Garmin to get the coordinates for the temperature gauge, as well as reads from her notes: “tall rock in middle of slope.” “Well that isn’t very helpful,” she grumbles.

After finding the temperature gauge, she moves on to the observation of two hay piles where tagged pika should reside. The temperature has dropped, and Ray is bundled up, silently looking out onto the talus slope.

After another 20 minutes, she calls it quits.

Out of the 4 hay piles observed that day for tagged pika, Blue-Red-Yellow-Red is the only pika that seems to have survived the year.

The American pika relies heavily on the micro-climate that talus holes provide, but Ray’s study is also a warning to those who live in the west. “It’s the microclimate that is saving packets of ice. When the pika are gone, our ice is gone too.” This sentinel species is sounding the alarm, letting humans know that the ice and snowmelt we rely on for water is vanishing along with them.