Crater Lake National Park: Sept 9, 2014.
Pika are little mammals closely related to rabbits. They are only about 6 inches long and have
funny little rounded ears rather than long rabbit ears. They live only in the high country where
temperatures are cooler. They are famous
for harvesting large piles of grasses and forbes and drying their ‘haystack’
for winter food. For more about Crater
Lake’s pikas see my blog post:
http://www.elvafieldnotes.blogspot.com/2013_09_01_archive.html
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| "Wheeezzze!" |
I am in wait and watch mode, sitting on a sunny log, waiting
for a pika. I’m sure at least one sees
me but I can’t see him. I feel as though
I’m hunting, but with a sketchbook and camera rather than a gun. Sketching the scene helps me to sit
still. Last year I also came in
September and sat nearby and sketched. I
suddenly heard a loud “Wheeeze” about ten feet from me. Up popped a pika to inspect me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hope it happens again.
I’ve heard some far off pika calls when I first arrived, but
they seem subdued. In the meantime it’s
a beautiful day to be sitting on a log, far up the outer slope of Crater Lake’s
caldera. The afternoon is pleasantly
warm, maybe a little warm for my furry friends.
They are seldom active when it is warmer than 70 degrees. Biologists are already worrying about the
effects of global warming on pikas.
Their range has always been limited to high elevations and now they’ll
get pushed into a smaller and smaller area.
A chickaree scolded when I first arrived and now two noisy
ravens fly by, paralleling the rim of the steep cliff above me. They are enjoying the updraft that bounces
into the rock wall. Yellow-rumped
warblers flit through the hemlocks near me.
I even have a yellow jacket (wasp) land on my hand; fortunately the wasp
isn’t aggressive.
I paint for about an hour.
Still no pika. I think I’ll go
check on where Dale is and see if he wants to try another place. Since I’m not hearing the little beasties, I
doubt he is seeing any.
Dale never just tells me when he was seen something
good. When I find something I just blab
it out right away. He hates to commit,
but he isn’t as noncommittal as he thinks.
There is an extra twinkle in his eye as he hands me his camera so I can examine
the digital screen on the back. …… and
here is what I saw!
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| It's a badger! |
Oh my gosh! He is
beautiful! What is a badger doing way up
here? I’ve never seen a badger in Oregon
although I know they are in the high desert east of here. Dale was walking down the road and caught
sight of the badger out of the corner of his eye.
Now that I’ve joined Dale, the badger is gone. We wait and watch. I catch a quick glimpse and then wait some
more. About forty minutes pass. The pikas are quiet. Shadows are long. This tumbled slope has lost all sunlight but
sunset is still two hours away.
Then, there, in the greyness of a field of tumbled boulders
and shadows, wanders a badger. He is
farther away, far enough that he pays no attention to us. He pokes around one
boulder and under another, inspecting.
He appears to be hunting pika.
Badger are one of my favorite animals: beautiful markings on
their face; a long furry coat that makes him look like a mobile mop; and short
legs encased in black stockings. When I
see one, they are usually on a mission, often busily digging a hole to China.
With a badger poking around their tumbled rock pile, no wonder
the pika have been so quiet.
