Crouching low in the sparse alpine grasses, we stop to investigate a promising clue—a burrow surrounded by recently cropped grasses and a few fecal pellets. We discuss the shape and size of the fecal pellets in hushed voices—are they the right size? Nervously, we continue toward the peak, spread out across the slope like a search party. Then, as I crest a modest plateau, I catch a glimpse of chocolate fur diving headfirst into a burrow. It’s a quick look, but still there’s no question as to the species—I’ve seen enough woodchucks to know a marmot when I see one. However, given our location, this can only be a Vancouver Island marmot (Marmota vancouverensis), the most endangered animal in Canada.

We try to keep a respectful distance from the burrow, but we’re excited, almost giddy. For a group like ours, encountering a Vancouver Island marmot is a bit like meeting Barack Obama—we want to be professional but instead we squeal and fumble for our cameras. Forming a hundred-foot ring around the burrow, we kneel with telephoto lenses at the ready. Ten minutes pass, a raven croaks overhead, thick clouds roll across the mountain. Then, ever-so-slowly, the marmot emerges to sniff at the gentle breeze. Cameras click, the encounter is properly documented. At approximately 9:35 a.m. on August 25, 2009, our own eyes confirm that at least one Vancouver Island marmot still roams the wild. (Ironically, the provincial government cut their future modest funding to marmot recovery at almost the exact same time.)

After this initial sighting, we continue our mountaintop search, hoping to get a sense of this population and perhaps even make some basic behavioural observations. We are a group from Langara College in Vancouver, a second-year ecology class, and this is our optional end-of-semester sojourn. The goal of the four-day road trip is simple: observe Vancouver Island marmots in the wild. There are other sights of ecological interest to see, kayaks to paddle, and clear-cuts to ponder, but the marmots are the focus of the trip. And there is urgency to the trip, a possibility that if we wait a decade, or even a few years, the marmots could be gone. Extinct.

Extinction

Extinction is a grave word—the reality it describes is utterly permanent. Yet extinction is not a new phenomenon. Millions of species occupy the planet, some in great abundance, and some, like the Vancouver Island marmot, only in small isolated populations. Given this great diversity and the complicated dynamics that knit all ecosystems together, it should not be surprising that, on rare occasions, species vanish. Why then are we so concerned with the fate of this second-to-last population of Vancouver Island marmots? Why did we risk a trip on B.C. Ferries and dinner at a Nanaimo roadhouse to see what amounts to a photogenic groundhog?

As ecologists, we are excited by biological diversity: marmot or minnow, lichen or liverwort. We know that each species tells a story of successful reproduction that stretches back 3.5 billion years, back to the primordial sea or hydrothermal vent where life’s communal story started. We know that the process of evolution by natural selection has adapted each species to its particular environment, making each species unique in molecule and morphology, and to lose a species is to lose something that is truly irreplaceable. We believe that each species is valuable regardless of whether or not it is tasty or cute or secretes a potion capable of arresting cancer growth—we believe that species have intrinsic value. And, importantly, we know that most endangered species wouldn’t be in their dire predicament except for the influence of Homo sapiens.

An hour spent surfing Google Earth highlights the scale of the problem—harshly modified landscapes are now by far the most prominent topography on our planet. Species that require wild space are increasingly squeezed into impossibly small and distantly isolated fragments of natural habitat. The problem of habitat destruction, coupled with climate change, is so serious, and so geographically widespread, that the number of species adversely affected is huge. Indeed, most conservation biologists agree that we are now in the midst of a mass extinction event, a crisis of biological diversity not seen since the demise of the dinosaurs.

Sixty-five million years ago, evidence suggests that an asteroid perhaps 10 kilometres in diameter slammed into the Yucatán. The impact was massive enough to trigger rapid, global climate change, as airborne debris blocked sunlight. The ecological carnage that resulted is now referred to as the Cretaceous mass extinction event, an episode that saw the demise of the dinosaurs and other fauna. It is a terrifying thought to think that we, Homo sapiens, are now the asteroid, adversely impacting every global ecosystem and consequently pushing many species, like the Vancouver Island marmot, toward extinction.

A unique species

The Vancouver Island marmot is one of 14 species in Marmota, a genus within the large mammalian order Rodentia. In general, marmots are comparatively large, ground-dwelling rodents that live in self-constructed burrows. All marmots are herbivores and most hibernate for significant periods during the non-growing season.

Scientists hypothesize that a few ancestors of the modern hoary marmots (Marmota caligata) colonized Vancouver Island about 12,000 years ago, when the last glacial period was still going strong and lower sea levels would have facilitated such migration. Once isolated, the island marmots rapidly evolved into the unique species that occupies Vancouver Island today.

The Vancouver Island marmot, weighing three to seven kilograms, is differentiated from the other marmots by geographic range, appearance, and genetics. It has a chocolaty coat with distinguished patches of white fur on the chest and nose. It inhabits alpine meadows, open habitat that supports a large variety of marmot food, grasses, and wild flowers. The soils of the meadows also allow for burrow excavation and prominent boulders provide suitable lookouts. If you want to see a Vancouver Island marmot, only a handful of mountaintops on Vancouver Island regularly support breeding populations.

Causes of decline

The broad goal of conservation biology is to get all species through the next few hundred years, a period during which human influence on the planet will be extreme (human influence is a product of population numbers and consumption per person). Eventually, the hope is that conserved species will be re-introduced to ecosystems that become available as humans become less numerous and environmentally enlightened.

Like most species of conservation concern, many factors threaten the struggling marmot populations: habitat modification via logging, climate change, the genetic hurdles associated with small population size, and predation are the most serious threats.

Logging on Vancouver Island has produced notoriously large clear cuts. A new clear cut, being meadow-like in appearance and flora, is appealing habitat for dispersing marmots. However, as forest succession transforms these clear cuts into young forests, the flora changes from marmot-suitable grasses into unsuitable saplings. The increased cover afforded by the growing saplings also provides increased opportunities for marmot predators. In ecological terms, clear cuts function as population sinks, habitat that drains individuals from other locations but soon dooms these start-up populations to the wolves.

Climate change, caused by humans and not, is also a difficult problem to mitigate. From the perspective of the marmots, climate change is worrying because, as the climate warms, forests tend to climb up mountain slopes, an expansion that converts some alpine meadows into sub-alpine forests. A time-elapsed series of satellite images of Vancouver Island over the past few centuries would show a shrinking of peripheral marmot habitat as the tree line marched up mountain slopes, a process that also further isolated each marmot colony. Thankfully, core marmot habitat, southwest facing glacial bowls, should remain devoid of trees long-tem due to regular avalanches.

Imagine you took the bus to work this morning. Now imagine that bus and its motley passengers are suddenly the only humans left on the planet (a horrifying thought I know!). Perhaps 30 souls bouncing along an impossibly empty boulevard, a Noah’s ark for all humanity. This apocalyptic scenario was the everyday reality for the Vancouver Island marmot in the wild in 2003—less than 30 marmots clinging desperately to a few mountaintops. Whenever a population becomes that small, genetic diversity tends to decrease with each generation and inbreeding is likely. Such populations, because they become genetically homogenous, tend to have less evolutionary potential, meaning that they have a reduced ability to evolve as environments change. For example, if climate change continues or a new virus proliferates, the remaining marmot populations might not have the genetic diversity necessary to adapt to these new conditions. That said, thanks to quick intervention, the genetic bottleneck was extremely tight for only a couple of generations, a short enough time frame to leave the marmot with greater diversity than many endangered species.

Most marmots will eventually meet their end in the jaws of a cougar or wolf, or the talons of a golden eagle, which would be an entirely acceptable outcome except for the looming possibility of marmot extinction. Normally, predators don’t cause prey populations to go extinct because predator numbers are obviously sensitive to prey numbers. However, when the predator is a generalist, and other prey populations (deer, rabbits, elk, house cats, et cetera) allow predator densities to remain high, these inflated predator populations can be lethal to an endangered species like the marmot. Because every single marmot is critical to the survival of the species, the risk of such opportunistic predation needs to be minimized until marmot populations are secure. Currently, particularly difficult predators are trapped and relocated or radio-collared. No ecologist wants to interfere with natural processes like predation, but when the fate of an endangered species is at stake, such mitigations are sometimes necessary.

Captive breeding

Once a species reaches the brink of extinction, conservation biologists must make the difficult decision of whether or not to start a captive breeding program. Taking individuals out the wild and attempting to breed them in protected environments is absolutely a last-ditch effort—it is certainly better to reverse population declines before such intensive efforts are required. Captive breeding for re-introduction is a difficult and delicate process because, once in captivity, animals can quickly domesticate in subtle ways, a behavioural re-wiring that can make the hopeful reintroduction difficult. Additionally, if the factors causing the initial decline have not been mitigated, the eventual reintroductions are unlikely to succeed.

In the case of the Vancouver Island marmot, a captive breeding program was deemed necessary, and in hindsight it appears to have been very successful. The captive breeding population was built from 55 marmots brought in from the wild from 1997 to 2004. These marmots were housed in specifically designed facilities at the Calgary Zoo, the Toronto Zoo, the Mountain View Conservation and Breeding Centre in Langley, and the Tony Barrett Mount Washington Marmot Recovery Centre. Although the breeding program took a decade to mature and grow, the captive population now numbers 170 marmots and produces 50 to 80 pups per year, a sufficient number to sustain significant re-introductions.

Many marmots born in captivity now roam the mountains of Vancouver Island, mountains that have not heard a marmot’s alarm call in decades. This year alone, 68 captive-born individuals were released into the wild, a number that is more than double the total number of marmots in the wild in 2003. The hope is that another five years of re-introductions, perhaps 60 marmots per year, will result in a secure, self-sustaining marmot population.

Long-term persistence

Today, the Vancouver Island marmot persists thanks to the efforts of the Marmot Recovery Foundation and its partners (the B.C. government, the forest industry, and the involved public). After the release of 68 captive-raised individuals this year, there will be about 220 to 240 marmots in the wild. Perhaps more important than absolute numbers, there are now tentative colonies on 22 mountains, although how many of these will become successful breeding colonies is still in question. What is certain is that 220 to 240 marmots in the wild is not a sufficient number to guarantee their long-term viability; however, with continued management, it appears that the species is edging back from the brink of extinction.

The long-term goal of the Marmot Recovery Foundation is to have at least 600 marmots in the wild. These individuals will be split into three distinct regions (south, central, and north Island meta-populations), and each region will be comprised of numerous breeding colonies. This redundancy, multiple regions each comprised of multiple colonies, is absolutely critical to the long-term viability of the marmots. Each colony is prone to extinction, but if there are enough colonies, and if movement between them is possible, then natural re-colonization is probable. Having three regions of marmots will protect against the impact of a local catastrophe, perhaps a new virus or wildfire, which could race the marmots back toward extinction if colonies were only found in one region. Once this long-term goal is achieved, in as little as five years, the marmots should only require modest monitoring rather than intensive management.

A hopeful future?

After spotting our initial marmot near the peak, we continued to scour the slopes for signs of other individuals. Eventually, after lunch, we spotted a female with four pups, a spectacle that left us feeling hopeful about the future of the Vancouver Island marmot. We observed the group for perhaps half an hour; the female remained on guard the whole time while her pups put on a show, scurrying about the rocky slope and popping out from unknown openings to munch on wildflowers. Using our telephoto lenses, we were eventually able to determine that the female’s ear tag was #992, a piece of information that allowed a marmot biologist to identify her as Claire, a female born in the wild in 2004.

The recovery of a species that had declined to the very brink of extinction is a hopeful portent in a world full of biological devastation. However, saving the marmot requires continued effort; partnerships and funding were in place but recessions have a way of weakening resolve. Indeed, the provincial government recently cut its future funding to marmot recovery, which was only $133,000 per year—the cost of one Porsche (and I saw six Porsches during a recent 15-minute bike ride to work). Certainly, marmot recovery should not be jeopardized because there has recently been notable success. The marmots are still at risk, they are still Canada’s most endangered animal, and the next few years are critical.

Cameron MacDonald is a biology instructor at Langara College.For more information on the Vancouver Island marmot, go to Marmots.org.