Nutmeg McChunky and the Great National Nut Day Confusion

Today is National Nut Day and no, we’re not talking about the eccentric neighbor kind or your quirky uncle who wears socks with sandals in January, although we all have a few of those in the burrow as well. This day celebrates the edible nut, the delicious kind — almonds, pecans, walnuts, hazelnuts — all those crunchy treasures beloved by squirrels, humans and trail mix enthusiasts alike.

But for marmots, our beloved rotund alpine residents? Let’s just say it’s not exactly a red-letter day on the calendar. In fact, if marmots had a National Nut Day, it would probably be a day of mild confusion, existential pondering and possibly judging squirrels from afar.

The Great Alpine Nut Shortage – Marmots and Nuts: A Mismatch Made in the Mountains

First off, there’s the inconvenient truth: nuts aren’t really a thing in the alpine tundra where marmots love to lounge. While a cheeky pinyon pine might push out some pine nuts at a “low” elevation of 7,000 feet, our average Rocky Mountain marmot is chilling comfortably above 10,000 feet, wondering why anyone would live somewhere with mosquitoes.

Nuts simply don’t grow in the alpine tundra, the marmot’s preferred penthouse suite above 10,000 feet. Unless a generous or clumsy hiker drops a trail mix bag, the pickings are slim.

And even if marmots did find a nut, they wouldn’t quite know what to do with it. Marmots are herbivorous grazers, not gatherers, effectively the equivalent of a lawnmower of the high alpine valleys. Their diet is a refined blend of:

• Grasses
• Wildflowers
• Leaves
• Seeds (tiny ones!)
• Roots
• And, on special occasions, a berry or two

It’s the usual salad bar fare. Marmot flat chisel-like teeth are made for shearing plants, not cracking shells. Nuts are just too hard, too fatty and too squirrelly for marmot high-fiber lifestyles. Let’s just say constipation is not a marmot concern — if anything, they’ve perfected the opposite problem. Constipation, as the marmot saying goes, is a myth.

So, if you ever spot a marmot looking intently at a nut, they’re probably just:

• Wondering if it’s a strangely crunchy rock.
• Considering if it might be a new type of particularly firm dandelion seed.
• Critiquing a squirrel’s frantic burying technique.

When it comes to nuts, marmots are politely disinterested. Unless, of course, you’re talking about one marmot in particular…

The Legend of Nutmeg McChunky

Every rule has its charming, slightly bewildered exception.  In the Rockies the colony oddball honor belongs to Nutmeg McChunky.

As a baby, Nutmeg was swept off his rocky perch during a windstorm with gusts strong enough to rearrange fur. He tumbled down, down, down, until he landed (with a very soft thud) smack in the middle of a bustling pinyon forest, where he was rescued and raised by a surprisingly open-minded family of squirrels.

These squirrels, bless their bushy tails, apparently thought, “Oh, look! A very slow, unusually large squirrel pup! Must be a new breed.”

They taught him the ways of the nut — how to sniff them out, stash them and crack them open with flair. The only problem? Nutmeg couldn’t climb trees. His physique was gravity-optimized. He’d sit at the base, staring up longingly as his adoptive siblings scampered away with their acorn hoards.

Years later, a migrating group of marmots spotted Nutmeg, a furry oddity, sitting under a tree surrounded by empty pine nut shells, trying to bury an acorn with his nose. They took him back to the alpine tundra, where Nutmeg tried his best to fit in with his natural kin.

But old habits die hard. To this day, Nutmeg McChunky still collects every pebble, pinecone and round seed he finds, proudly presenting them to his marmot friends.

They humor him. They roll their eyes. And when he starts burying dandelion heads for “winter storage”, they just shake their furry heads and mutter, “that’s our Nutmeg.”

A Nutty Moral

So, on National Nut Day, while you’re enjoying your trail mix or a handful of roasted almonds, spare a thought for the marmots, nature’s fiber enthusiasts, who couldn’t care less about cashews. And raise an acorn (metaphorically) to Nutmeg McChunky, the marmot who never stopped believing he was just one tail flick away from being able to climb a tree.

Because whether you’re a nut hoarder or a grass grazer, there’s a little bit of Nutmeg in all of us: stubborn, hopeful and maybe just a little bit nuts.

Happy National Nut Day, everyone! May your grasses be green and your stashes stay plentiful. We dedicate this holiday to Nutmeg McChunky — may he never figure out what he’s missing.