As I Ponder the Paucity

of Pikas.

As I Ponder a Paucity of…

Pikas.

I shift Sanctuary Too (my truck and camper) into 4X4 Low and  thump and bump along  into thinner air, cooler temperatures and above tree-line views and hikes. In this rarefied atmosphere (where Texans are visitors who do not remain. YAY!) are the homelands of the American Pika. In these highly exposed rumbly rocky regions is where I’ll see and hear pikas. Those minute hair bags are one of the reasons I’ll sleep on high passes where most oxygen craving folks won’t.

Who needs oxygen when you can hang with pikas?

A few weeks ago, I camped and hiked in Prime Pika Park Avenue Real Estate. Sure, I was there for the views and the solitude, but I wanted to reconnect with the little fuzz balls. The day was cool and overcast, (pika weather) as I negotiated an out and back nine-mile over 12,000 feet ridge line trail, I saw no pikas. Zero, zilch, zip, nada, nil and a total absence of 

Ochotona princeps.

This upset me, but before I pulled a Chicken Soup Little and declared ”the sky is falling! The sky is falling!” I decided to sleep even higher in order to gather more statistics. So that’s what I did. On another chilly cloudy with a threat of rain day, I hiked up to 13,000 feet from the low point of 12,600 feet. I saw a paltry amount of pikas. Three.

Before I go any further, let it be known of my few talents besides making Sambini’s World’s Famous Kosher Green Chili, I’m a Pika Whisperer. If you recall from my last Pika related post I scored an exclusive interview with Shlomo the Yiddish speaking Pika. Please read to reacquaint yourself:

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2021/10/acuweather-fahgettaboudit.html

Back to the story…

I returned to the original site and hiked the same nine-mile out and back ridge line. All in all I spotted only three Pikas, but one of them was Shlomo.

“Shlomo! How’s ba’ you? Where is everybody?”

“OY! Jeffie my landsman! So good to see you again. I’m not doing so well. My friends and family have succumbed to the warmer conditions. We are heat weenies! My fellow members of the tribe can’t handle temperatures over 78 degrees! You’ll never see a Pika at Miami Beach. We’re running out of higher altitudes. Sniff! I’m very verklempt over this.”

“Shlomo! That’s awful. I knew something was up. I’ll usually spot 20-40 of you along this stretch. Marmots and chipmunks have moved into your old turf. I miss you guys!”

“Jeffie! It’s not easy being a climate change indicator species. We are feeling the effects front and center. What will it take for you humans to stop being such shlemiels and take climate change seriously. It’s not a Chinese Hoax!”

“I dunno Shlomo. The world is a mess. I think Yankee stadium, Candlestick Park and Camden Yards will be underwater before Americans start to act. There’s too much greed and bad politics going around.”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

With that, I handed Shlomo my signature PB&Boysenberry sandwich and a Cutie orange. It couldn’t hurt and made me feel less guilty.

Let me say this. A world without Pikas would be a less joyful one. 

Please vote correctly to make a change on climate change.

It’s happening now. Just ask Shlomo.

Last photos: 

I’m a conversational whisperer with wild burros, ptarmigans domestic sheep and desert bighorn sheep too.