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If you’ve spent any time outdoors in New Hampshire between late winter and early spring, you may have noticed a stocky, brown animal cautiously poking its head out of the ground near a field edge or stone wall.
Nevada may be famous for its deserts, but climb high enough into the Sierra Nevada, the Ruby Mountains, or the Great Basin ranges, and you will find one of the state’s most endearing mountain residents: the yellow-bellied marmot.
Minnesota winters are long and unforgiving — and the woodchuck knows it better than almost any other animal in the state.
Mississippi is not the first place that comes to mind when you think of marmots — and that reaction is completely understandable.
Maryland’s fields and forest edges quietly come back to life each late winter, and one of the first signs you’ll notice is a chunky, low-slung silhouette waddling out from a burrow entrance.
Missouri is home to one of North America’s most fascinating hibernators — a stocky, burrowing marmot that disappears underground each fall and reappears just as the first hints of spring begin to stir.
Maine winters are long, quiet, and unforgiving — and one of the few animals bold enough to sleep straight through them is the marmot.
You’re hiking a high-elevation trail in northern New Mexico in early spring, scanning the talus slopes for any sign of life — and then you hear it: a sharp, piercing whistle cutting through the mountain air.
Nebraska may not be the first place that comes to mind when you think of marmots, but these stocky, burrowing rodents are very much a part of the state’s wildlife story.
Spring in Massachusetts arrives quietly — a softening of the air, the first green shoots pushing through thawing soil, and if you know where to look, a round, russet-brown animal cautiously poking its head out of a burrow for the first time in months.
New Jersey is home to one of North America’s most recognizable marmots — and if you’ve spent any time near a meadow edge or farm field in late winter, you’ve likely seen one lumbering out of its burrow before the last frost has even lifted.
Every late winter in Michigan, something stirs beneath the frost-hardened soil — a stocky, grizzled mammal slowly returning to life after months of deep sleep.
Montana’s mountains hold a quiet secret all winter long: tucked beneath boulder fields and talus slopes, marmots are sleeping through months of cold and snow.
Delaware may be the nation’s second-smallest state, but it quietly hosts one of North America’s most fascinating hibernators — the groundhog, also known as the woodchuck or whistle pig.
Idaho’s rocky slopes and open meadows hold a secret for most of the year — a furry, whistling resident that spends more time underground than almost any other mammal in the state.
If you’ve been searching for marmots in Louisiana, you’re asking a question that leads somewhere genuinely interesting — and a little surprising.
If you’ve noticed a stocky, brown animal waddling across a field or peering out from a burrow entrance in early spring, you’ve likely spotted Connecticut’s most familiar marmot.
Illinois is home to one of North America’s most dedicated hibernators — and if you’ve been watching for signs of life near a field edge or a backyard burrow, late winter is exactly the right time to pay attention.
Georgia sits at the southern edge of the marmot world, and that geography matters more than you might expect.
Alaska is one of the few places in North America where you can watch a marmot emerge from a burrow it has been sealed inside since September.
