Climate change lessens genetic diversity of Yosemite's alpine chipmunks

An alpine chipmunk (Tamias alpinus) is shown at Yosemite's Ten Lakes Pass at an elevation of 9,631 feet. (Risa Sargent photo)The Sierra Nevada is known for its chipmunk diversity--the central Sierra boasts nine species spanning its various regions--yet a recent study shows that climate change is threatening the genetic makeup of at least one of the animals, the high elevation dwelling alpine chipmunk, (Tamias alpinus). 

The alpine chipmunk is a species endemic to California's Sierra Nevada and historically was sighted at elevations as low as 7,800 feet. New research led by Emily Rubidge, while a Ph.D. student at UC Berkeley's Museum of Vertebrate Zoology and the Department of Environmental Science, Policy and Management, shows that the animals are moving over 1,500 feet upslope. This loss of geographic range was accompanied by a decrease in genetic diversity--which has serious implications for the future of the alpine chipmunk.

"Climate change is implicated as the cause of geographic shifts observed among birds, small mammals and plants, but this new work shows that, particularly for mountain species like the alpine chipmunk, such shifts can result in increasingly fragmented and genetically impoverished populations," said Rubidge, "Under continued warming, the alpine chipmunk could be on the trajectory towards becoming threatened or even extinct."

Almost a hundred years ago, Joseph Grinnell led a series of comprehensive biological surveys for Yosemite National Park, providing historical data which has been valuable for scientists today in studying the impacts of climate change on flora and fauna in the park. The Grinnell Resurvey Project, led by Craig Moritz, professor of integrative biology and director of the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, found that many small mammals in Yosemite moved or retracted their ranges to higher, cooler elevations over the past century, a period when the average temperature in the park increased by 3 degrees Celsius, or about 5.4 degrees Fahrenheit.

“At the heart of this whole enterprise is the incredibly dense historic record and specimens we have at UC Berkeley from 100 years ago,” said Moritz. “These collections allow us to conduct sophisticated analyses to better understand how ecosystems are reacting to environmental changes, and to create more detailed models of future changes.”

A Spring Wildflower Walk (in Winter) in the Merced River Canyon

Poppy in the Merced River Canyon today (photo by Beth Pratt)During my almost daily walks or runs in the Merced River Canyon near Yosemite, I enjoying witnessing the changing seasons and especially look forward to the annual wildflower bloom. Usually I have to wait until March, although sometimes if I am really lucky some blossoms appear by late February. Yet last week the fiery orange faces of the California poppy appeared on the landscape, and on my walk this afternoon I noticed a few other wildflower species, not to be outdone by the poppies, making an early appearance as well. I observed a solitary hummingbird resting on a burnt out tree and thought he might be pondering the same thing--the strangeness of this year without a winter.

Indian paintbrush blooming in February (photo by Beth Pratt)Where's winter? Hummingbird in tree (photo by Beth Pratt)Fiddleneck? (photo by Beth Pratt) 

Popcornflower(?) blooming in February (photo by Beth Pratt)

It’s Not Easy Being Green, or Yellow, or Red: The Plight of California’s Frogs

During my first thru hike on the John Muir Trail fifteen years ago, on the ascent up to Seldon Pass I encountered a young man energetically trotting down the trail without a backpack. Before even saying hello he asked excitedly, “have you seen any frogs?”  The question was a strange greeting, but this researcher had luckily encountered a fellow frog enthusiast. Subsequently he revealed that he was studying frog populations in the Sierra Nevada. I wish I could recall his name, but his passion for frogs I remember well.

California red-legged frog (Courtesy of Save the Frogs)During that hike, I encountered hundreds of the mountain yellow-legged frog, a cool little critter that has a raspy croak and loves to swim in alpine waters. When Joseph Grinnell conducted his famous biological inventories in Yosemite and the Sierra in the early 1900s, he remarked that his survey team could hardly move without stepping on these frogs. Today, less than 200 populations of Rana muscosa exist in the Sierra Nevada with an estimated 5,000 adults–they have disappeared from over 90% of their historic range. Sadly, these frogs are headed for extinction soon.So it seems appropriate that on February 2, the California Fish and Game Commission voted unanimously to grant this frog protection under the California Endangered Species Act.

Another of the Golden State’s frogs, the California red-legged, is struggling as well. This species was once considered one of the most abundant amphibians in California (and gained famed as being the frog featured in Mark Twain’s “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County”), but now they are listed as federally threatened. The National Wildlife Federation and Save the Frogs named the California red-legged—the largest native frog in the western states—one of America’s top ten most threatened frogs.  Save the Frogs is currently trying to convince Mayor Ed Lee of San Francisco to turn over Sharp Park Wetlands—home to red-legged frogs and other creatures—to the National Park Service to ensure protection. The wetland site is currently a golf course. Show your support for California’s red-legged frog by sending Mayor Lee an email today.

California frogs are not alone in their plight. Over a third of all amphibian species are on the verge of extinction, the result of ongoing habitat destruction, infectious disease, pollution and pesticides, climate change, invasive species and other factors.  The National Wildlife Federation and Save the Frogs are partnering with the National Park Service and other Yosemite organizations to host a Save the Frogs Day event on April 28 in Yosemite National Park to celebrate and help protect these remarkable creatures. Stay tuned for details!

Winter is coming (we hope): my last excursion to Tioga Pass?

Walking on a frozen Gaylor Lake, January 16, 2012As my dad and I drove through the Arch Rock entrance station in Yosemite yesterday, we viewed something that had become so unusual recently that it took us a moment to identify it. “Is that snow?” I asked the ranger at the gate. Granted it was a pretty weak snowfall, as if someone was occasionally sprinkling confectionary sugar, but we can’t be too picky in the Sierra these days. The clouds followed us to Crane Flat and beyond, and some of the trees and granite peaks glowed with a light dusting of snow against the gray clouds. At Olmsted point, the blue skies emerged, but Tenaya Peak boasted some white highlights on his granite face.

Gaylor Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)“Winter is coming,” is a catch phrase on one of my favorite shows, Game of Thrones. It’s a mantra we have been uttering here in the Sierra Nevada, yet less emphatically than Ned Stark. The California version: “Winter is coming? Isn’t it?”

The record-breaking delay in closing Tioga Pass and the access to Tuolumne and Yosemite’s high country in winter has been marvelous. Being on the Dana Plateau in January or walking across a frozen Tenaya Lake is not an experience usually attainable for those of us who are not good backcountry skiers. Yet these rare opportunities come with a price tag—a disruption of the water cycle so central to California that the decreased snowpack reverberates with implications for all life in the state. We’ll hope skating on frozen Tenaya Lake (or taking beautiful wedding photos on the ice—check out this photo by Patrick Pike Studios) remains an once-in-a-lifetime experience that we tell our grandchildren about.

With one of the ghost trees in the middle of Tenaya LakeSo the dusting of snow made me hopeful. And the forecast for more snow and rain later in the week may put an end to my winter wanderings at 12,000 feet (it’s just unreal that I have been hiking—yes—hiking at this elevation in winter), yet the Sierra needs a long, sustained drink of water. As I hike around the Gaylor Lake basin yesterday, I found the the lack of snow and the parched landscape unnerving. In my twenty years of exploring Yosemite, I had never seen this area look so, well, just plain thirsty. The white gleam of ice from frozen Gaylor Lake contrasted sharply, like a mismatched outfit, against the adjacent brown, bare landscape.

(On a related note, the other glaring absence from the Tioga landscape has been the Mobil Station being closed. Do you know how hard it is to drive over the pass without being able to stop for a fish taco at the Whoa Nellie Deli or  talk baseball with Chef Toomey?)

Tuolumne River and Lembert Dome (photo by Beth Pratt)Even the lakes seemed to be lamenting against the current lack of snow—in song. One of the most wonderful discoveries of this late access to the high country has been the music of the lakes. On my first visit to frozen Tenaya Lake when the road reopened in December, I stood on the west shore and listened in amazement to the voice of the lake—it resembled the mysterious moanings of whale song. Gaylor Lake sang a melancholy song as well, with Cathedral Peak listening sympathetically in the distance.

Will this be my last adventure this winter in Tioga Country? As splendid as it’s been, let’s hope so. Winter, you better be coming!

Some alarming comparision photos:

Tuolumne Meadows (photos by Beth Pratt)

Gaylor Lake Basin (photos by Beth Pratt)

Dana Meadows (photos by Beth Pratt)

How Seeing a Northern Goshawk in Yosemite Finally Made Me a Birder

Northern Goshawk near Tioga Pass in Yosemite on 1/8/12 (Photo by Beth Pratt)I have always resisted joining the ranks of the official birders. I am more a charismatic mega-fauna kind of gal (with the exception of frogs—my favorite critter), and wolves and bears and other mammals have always appealed to me more than the elusive creatures flying overhead.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy viewing birds in the wild, but I didn’t want to do that whole life list thing or have to download birdcalls on my ipod and have them pop up in between U2 and Mumford and Sons at parties. And identifying birds is so complicated! You don’t have to study too much to identify a wolf or bear in the wild, but birds change their plumages more often than a model at a fashion show. My repertoire has always been manageable, consisting of knowing the Clark’s Nutcracker, American Robin, and calling any raptor I saw a red-tailed hawk, knowing I’d be correct the majority of the time. Oh, and bluebirds—those are pretty easy as well. When I lived in Yellowstone, bird identification was a little easier because they were all so big (swans and pelicans are pretty recognizable), but learning the endless species of songbirds in California is akin to figuring out programming code.

Last weekend, however, my aversion to becoming a birder finally dissipated with the help of a seeing a really cool raptor soar overhead while I was hiking in Yosemite, the Northern Goshawk. Of course I had no clue it was a northern goshawk as I snapped photos. My usual procedure as a naturalist is to take photo notes, then send them off to my birder friends for an ID.

The bird that made me a birder (photo by Beth Pratt)

This time I posted my photos on my Facebook page and tagged my ornithologically inclined friends for an ID. I also posted the photo on the National Wildlife Federation's California Facebook page, Audubon, California’s Facebook page, and my friend Rue Mapp, founder of Outdoor Afro, forwarded it to her network of birders.

I loved witnessing the enthusiasm for this bird as my photos raced across the social networks. First, it was fun to read the various debates about identifying it, but it was equally great to see the excitement this raptor generated. The photos even caught the eye of the wonderful organization, The Wild Bird Trust, and I now have an album on their Facebook page.

Hmm. This reminded me of when I posted a photo of wolf when I lived in Yellowstone! (absent discussions about color morphs and tail feathers and without mentions of elk carcasses).

After reading about this ferocious hawk, I quickly saw what all the excitement was about (and think he might be an even match for a wolf as far as hunting skills). Ted Beedy and Stephen Granholm write in Discovering Sierra Birds, “If approached too closely, these largest and most powerful of North American Accipiters will defend their nesting territories like demons. They peer down at intruders with defiant red eyes and fly boldly at their targets with talons spread.” The authors also tell of a goshawk hopping on a lake for over an hour in pursuit of Mallard ducklings—it caught three. David Lukas, in his Sierra Nevada Birds, observes that it’s rare to view this hawk from November to February, and also tells of the birds being quite prolific in mating—pairs may copulate up to 500 times in one season! I had no idea such a lover AND a fighter had soared above me last weekend as I hiked to the Dana Plateau near Tioga Pass.

A lover and a fighter (Photo by Beth Pratt)

So for my birding friends, who I had always poked fun at for their obsessions, I have finally come over to the dark side. Pete Devine, Jack Laws, Joe Medley (and his late father and my friend, Steve Medley), David Lukas, Paul Gallez and others, I am now joining your ranks and will carry a life list while hiking, buy a new pair of fancy binoculars, and be as religious about attending birding festivals as a Trekkie is about not missing Star Trek conferences.