A Late Fall 

On Nov. 14, 2025, I drove the short distance from my apartment in Mount Crested Butte to Dr. David Inouye’s cabin in South Gothic. At that point in this dry year, the Gunnison Basin measured 16 percent of average snowpack (a mere 4 inches total, according to billy barr; see gothicwx.org for more complete data). 

The northern aspen groves of Snodgrass Mountain had spotted coverage, and the rest of the upper East River Valley leading to Gothic was a thousand shades of brown and tan. What would this mean for the winter ahead? For the summer and seasons to follow? For the hydrology of the West and the flora, fauna, and soil of Gothic? For human and more-than-human communities downstream across the Colorado River Basin? Knowing that autumn snows have come later and later this century, and that big winters have still followed (though trending downward), I was not too worried. 

David and I sat in his cabin looking up at Gothic Mountain, and he encouraged patience. We still do not understand the full complexity of the system when faced with a late-emerging winter, he explained. Although he had observed a dozen plant species still green and growing — and Geum triflorum flowering — those plants would store energy in their roots, allowing them to re-emerge in summer. Meanwhile, ground squirrels and marmots were already in hibernation, and hummingbirds had migrated to Mexico. 

He also shared concerns. Ptarmigan burrow in snow for insulation and would be much colder without it, and both marmots and ground squirrels would have more cold air tunneling into their underground burrows without insulating snow cover. Regarding pollinators and pollinator-friendly plants, he noted that after the low winter of 1976–1977, RMBL found fewer bumble bees and fewer larkspur flowers due to underground freezing from lack of snow. “Another month of this could lead to that, as frost in the ground can uproot plants and kill queen bees,” David said, now more than two months ago. 

Thinking about pollinators, I reached out to Dr. Carol Boggs, who has been studying butterflies at RMBL since 1978. She looked at records of the summers following the low winters of 1976–1977 and 1980–1981. “1976–77 was bracketed by summers with average rainfall (per NOAA historical data for CB) and winters with decent snowfall (per billy for Gothic), so it isn’t comparable to today, except for what happens if the ground isn’t insulated by snow. 1980–81 is closer to what we see today in terms of drought conditions,” she said. 

Sharing David’s focus on data-driven complexity, Carol continued, “The Gillette’s Checkerspot population actually increased a little bit from 1980–81, whereas the Mormon Fritillary decreased significantly — and I strongly suspect there were different reasons for each.” She concluded, “The species aren’t uniformly affected by snow cover, but snow does provide insulating cover for many of them. Also, different species have different factors that most strongly affect their abundances, ranging from flower availability to late June frosts to summer rainfall to snowmelt timing. So it’s hard to generalize about the effects of this winter on butterflies as a whole.” 

As a former teacher of climate action planning, I am in the habit of seeking consciousness-shifting and publicly compelling data, so that science can influence policy. Talking with David and Carol slowed me down to the pace of place, to learn lessons drawn from half-century datasets and observations. The December and January weather that followed challenged me to balance my desire to spark a sense of public urgency with the need to build public trust in patient research driven by long-term data. How do we strike that balance? And to what extent do we have time to find it? 

Winter’s Coming? 

The second driest December in 52 years followed my November visit, with billy barr’s Gothic Weather Station showing 3 inches of snow in December (far below the December average of 37 inches). By Jan. 21, billy’s station measured 23 inches of snowpack — 59 percent below average for that date. Only 1977 and 1981 show lower amounts for the same date in the past half century. 

Thinking about uprooted plants, cold hibernating animals, and dying queen bees, I reached out to Dr. David Inouye again. David has been at RMBL since 1971, so his records include cross-species insights about system-scale impacts of the low 1976–1977 snow year. I asked him what he had learned since our Nov.14 meeting, where he encouraged patience in the face of complexity. He replied, “Annual variation in plant and animal numbers in mountain environments is normal, but it’s beginning to look like the baselines are changing now.” 

Adding more social perspective compared to our November conversation, David shared concerns for the West. “We’re fortunate at RMBL to have so many long-term studies to use for reference points,” he said. “There will be lots of changes for students and researchers to document, but I think the ski area, cattle ranchers, and tourist industry all need to be concerned about what the future will bring to the Gunnison Basin.” 

I asked him, based on the summer of 1977 and following summers (some of his plant research shows flora is impacted by conditions reaching back four years prior), what RMBL can expect in the coming years if this snow year does not improve. “If this is becoming the new normal, many things will change in the mountain ecosystem, from the hydrology to population biology to community ecology,” he replied. “There will be winners and losers, but the wildflower and pollinator communities we have known from the past will change.” This matters both for ecological diversity and for our own food systems relying on healthy pollinators globally. 

Still wondering about hibernating animals, I reached out to RMBL marmot researcher Dr. Dan Blumstein. Dan first came to RMBL to research marmots in 1987, and after years studying marmots elsewhere (as far away as Pakistan), he has returned every summer since 2001. Dan has taken on the marmot study started by Dr. Ken Armitage in 1962 — now one of the two longest-running mammal studies, alongside Jane Goodall’s chimpanzee research. 

Dan shared his thoughts on what this dry year could mean for marmots. “If they are in what’s called their ’thermoneutral zone,’ they lose about 1 gram of fat a day when hibernating” he explained. “For a 3000–5000-gram animal, that’s not much. Yellow-bellied marmots are the most efficient hibernators studied! But if there is no snow blanket, they need to spend energy to stay within their thermoneutral zone, and this is costly. If they burn too many calories, they may run out of fat and then die in their burrows.”  

I could not shake the images that went with the phrase “die in their burrows.” Dan concluded, “Bottom line: the snowpack is an essential need. We’ll only know how the marmots fared when we are there in the spring, seeing who survived hibernation.”  

On Dec. 30, I skied out to visit billy barr with Stanford undergraduate Cameron Ennis, a prospective chemistry major interested in learning about snow science from billy. Two days earlier, over 7 inches of snow had fallen in Gothic. On the way out, we passed locals smiling as they enjoyed the fresh powder. 

At billy’s Gothic office, he showed us his temperature records. Gothic experienced its first-ever December rain in 2025, according to billy’s records, and record-high temperatures on Dec. 11, 14, 15, 16, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, and 31. “Only three winters have had more record highs than this winter, and this winter has 4½ months remaining,” he said. “What took place this month was unheard of and hard to fathom.”  

billy modeled RMBL’s commitment to education as he walked Cameron through the data, tailoring it to fit Cameron’s questions about snowpack, temperature, and snow chemistry. billy concluded, “The significance of this is that, when above freezing, at the least the surface starts to crust — even if the snowpack does not melt, though it has been so hot that it has actually melted. This can affect avalanche activity, snow insulation, snowmelt, and the difficulty for animals that burrow through the snowpack. And much else.” 

I reached out to billy on Jan. 22 and asked if he had any new insights since our late-December visit. “This has become a new normal, in that thirteen of the past fourteen winters have had below-average snowfall (and this as the average continues to drop), and this winter is likely to follow the same pattern,” billy said. “Another effect is the number of days in which the high temperature reaches or surpasses freezing. The long-term average for January is eight days in the month, and as of Jan. 22, there have already been 17.”  

Hope in the Balance 

On the late December ski home after visiting billy, Cameron and I passed RMBL colleagues Sophia Todorov and Benn Schmatz (RMBL research technician and facilities manager, respectively), who were returning to Gothic after a weekend on the Front Range. It was an idyllic scene — two RMBL winter caretakers skiing home with friends, pulling a sled stocked with New Year’s Eve food, wine, and beer. Like everyone else, they seemed thrilled to return to fresh snow, yet worried about the larger picture for the West. 

I emailed them on Jan. 23, asking for a more experiential perspective of life in Gothic during a low-snow winter. Benn went on a reflective solitary ski before replying the next day, “Like billy, I love to track how much snow falls, but selfishly, it is because I love skiing powder.” Benn then shifted to a longer view. “I have noticed that the lack of snowfall alters my perception of time. I seem to mark time by the storms, and if there are no storms, a whole month can pass without me even noticing. In a world with greater climate variability, more time between storms seems to be the new norm,” he wrote. Benn concluded with a personal note. “This winter, more than any other, I am learning to overcome my emotions and find joy even in a season with historically low snow. After all, there is still some snow out there for those willing to go hunt for it.” 

Benn’s snow hunt reflects how RMBL holds hope while remaining grounded in researched reality. As climate disturbance increasingly affects powder days, hydrology, habitat, mammal mortality, pollination, fire severity, economic resilience, and human health across the Colorado River Basin, RMBL’s century-long, place-based study of high-alpine ecosystems has taken on new immediacy — providing datasets that meaningfully inform decision-making, policy, and public understanding. In this moment, RMBL has an opportunity to model a rare and vital balance of patience and urgency.

— John Hausdoerffer, PhD
Director, Story and Partnerships
Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory