Beneath the Ice, Life Survives

Walking through a nature preserve near my house recently, the landscape appeared lifeless. The ponds are still frozen, and ducks won’t migrate through until April. I heard no songbirds, and the only life I saw were one squirrel and a few Canada geese sipping from a pond’s surface where it had slightly melted.

At the cabin, five inches of new snow last week buried any thoughts of springtime flowers, still several months away from emerging. The aspens and pine trees are waiting for warmer temperatures and longer days. Even the gray squirrels, which cache as much food as they can before the snows come so they don’t have to traverse the deep snow, are hiding themselves somewhere.

Yet I know that life is slumbering, not dead. Beneath the snow and ice, life is waiting—slowing down its metabolism or existing in some kind of frozen suspension. Warm-blooded animals such as bears fill up with food and find a cave to spend the winter. On the other hand, snakes stop eating a month or so before they brumate (the cold-blooded version of hibernating) because undigested food can kill them. I read that hundreds of snakes, some of different species, spend the winter coiled together underground in what’s known as a hibernaculum. Some are species that might kill each other during the warmer months, but maybe, like humans, they need each other’s warmth in the cold months.

At the nature preserve, turtles submerge themselves beneath the ice, somehow able to breathe through the pores of their skin, while slowing down their metabolism. Most amazingly, I recently discovered, frogs literally freeze, turning into “frogsicles” when the temperature dips below freezing. The common chorus frogs hide under leaves while waiting for the temperatures to get above freezing.  

I have to wonder if the tiger salamanders I see in the summer on Lily Lake (right) are also frozen in the depths of the pond. A few miles away from the cabin and at almost 9,000 feet altitude, the pond won’t start thawing until May, when I can hopefully watch from my kayak these strange creatures who stubbornly stay in their larval stage.

The record for the longest hibernation has to belong to the marmots (below), the rotund animals that live on the tundra, above 10,000 feet. While the strong winds tear across the frozen ground in winter, the marmots are deeply asleep for at least six months. Like the snakes, the marmots bundle together to preserve warmth. I like to think that this long period of rest, snuggled with their comrades, is why they appear so relaxed and playful after they emerge. In summer, I often see marmots sprawled across boulders basking in the sun. Meanwhile, their fellow tundra animals, the pikas, are busily, if not frenetically, collecting grass all summer to line their rock caves for winter food and shelter.

We’ve reached the midwinter point, with spring a month and half away, although at the cabin, spring doesn’t arrive until April at the earliest, when the pasqueflowers might be lured out of the ground and when the aspens produce buds that promise green leaves in May. In the meantime, I’m happy to light another fire in my wood-burning stove, snuggle under my blanket, read a good book and wait—as patiently as possible.  One day the creeks will thaw, the bluebirds will come back and the aspens will leaf out again.

Comments

[Pattie]

Love this! Thank you for painting a cozy, cuddly picture of marmots and marvelously resilient cold blooded critters. In recent years I have tried to embrace winter more than fight it. The Scandinavians call it the cozy time. I am kinder to myself for not being as motivated or productive. It’s time to turn inward and rest a bit before the effervescence of longer, green days.

[SusanR]

Interesting info about snakes, with a couple of new words for my vocabulary. I certainly hope lots of pikas reappear along with the marmots.

[Brent]

Can’t wait for the spring wildflowers.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Thanks, Patti. Like you, I've found that when I embrace winter, I fall in love with it.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Susan, I look forward to seeing the pikas again for sure.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Brent, some people around Boulder and Longmont are reporting the first crocuses of the year. Of course, they're not wildflowers, but it still brings some hope.