You have to catch them before you can cook them.
Once in a while, a marmot crawls up into the engine compartment on some car at Mineral King and sets up housekeeping. The owner returns, hops in the car, gets it out on the highway, and turns up the radio volume to drown out that strange squeek in the front end. A few hours later, he gets back to Los Angeles, opens up the hood, and out pops the marmot with singed fur. The animal control officers really hate that.