Here and there a wisp of grass or an occasional stunted shrub has found a precarious foothold among the slabs. Other low matlike plants occur in considerable numbers. The only sounds are faint whisperings of wind among the rocks and a distant sighing from the forest below. Suddenly a sharp “eeh-eeh” breaks the silence, then all is quiet again. The shrill sounds are repeated, this time from a different quarter. You look toward the sound but see nothing. Finally, if you are lucky, your eyes focus on a little face somewhat resembling that of a tiny cottontail rabbit, peering at you from the safety of a home among the rocks. It is the pika you see and this rock slide is his castle. The pika bears a superficial facial resemblance to the rabbit, to which it is most nearly related. This is occasioned no doubt by the long silky whiskers and deeply cleft upper lip, for the eyes are small and the ears, while large, are shaped much differently from those of its larger relative. Its other physical characteristics are entirely unlike those of the rabbit. The chunky body, short legs, and almost total lack of a tail are more like those of the guinea pig to which it is more distantly allied. Several species are known. All are inhabitants of the Northern Hemisphere and all, whether Asiatic, European, or American, are found living in rock slides at or above timberline. In the western United States the pika is known by a variety of other common names of which “coney,” “little chief hare,” and “rock rabbit” are perhaps the best known. Living as it does in only one type of habitat, the pika has developed highly specialized habits. The most remarkable is its practice of cutting hay for winter food. At timberline the growing season is short, but the herbs and grasses which this animal eats spring up and mature in a matter of weeks. During this time the pika lives high on the succulent leaves and stems, but during the latter part of the season it carefully harvests enough food to last through the coming winter. None of this hoard is carried directly into the burrow. Instead, it is painstakingly transported to suitable areas which are exposed to the hot sun, and there piled in miniature haycocks and left to cure. No human harvester ever worked harder to gather his crop or laid it up with more care than this tiny husbandman. Fortunately its tastes are not critical; thus, although the individual plants are scattered, the pika is able to select a sufficient store from the considerable number of species represented at this altitude.