|
| Click the thumbnails to see
full size images. Close the image windows when you're done. |



|
 
With Doug Collicutt
As seen in the Winnipeg Free Press, Sunday
Magazine, Dec. 10, 2000.
Tracking can unlock a hidden world.
I'm always happy once there's a good covering
of snow on the ground. No, I'm not an avid skier or snowmobiler . . .
I'm a tracker! One of my favorite winter activities is identifying and
interpreting the tracks left by animals in the snow.
I was reminded of the importance of tracks in
the snow one day last week, on the way back home from my morning trip
to the coffee shop. There was a set of fresh foot prints up the walk.
Someone had stopped by the door, turned around and left again. When I
reached the door, and opened the mail box my suspicions proved correct:
the mail carrier had been.
A covering of snow is like a pressure-sensitive
photographic plate, it records everything that happens to it. Each new
snowfall wipes the plate clean, resetting it to start recording all over
again. You can use this marvelous feature of snow to glimpse into the
lives of animals in winter. Perhaps some experiences I've already had
this winter may inspire you to give this new outdoor activity a try.
The white jackrabbit I'd seen (and written about)
a few weeks ago in my regular dog-walking field, the one that had stuck
out like a sore thumb on the brown grass, is now invisible in the snow
covered field, but I know it's still around because its tracks are everywhere.
There's one spot along the fence where it, and perhaps others, are regularly
ducking under as they come and go from the field. From there, a number
of separate trails branch out, and there are bare patches where the rabbits
have scraped away the snow to eat the grass underneath. In one visit to
this snow-covered field, I discovered more about the jackrabbits' daily
life than I'd learned from a whole summer's worth of dog walks.
Then, on last weekend's trip to our Whiteshell
cottage, I was in tracking heaven. I went off by myself for a long afternoon
walk down an old logging road. The cloven hoof prints of white- tailed
deer were everywhere; their trails through the bush were prominent where
they dragged their feet through the shallow snow. At one point a wolf
had padded down a section of road, neatly placing it's hind paws into
the imprint of the front feet; its trail a business-like straight line,
not the silly ambling of a dog. Further on was a smaller set of dog-like
tracks belonging to a red fox. A winding trail of bird-like prints revealed
a ruffed grouse at one point; it's trail ended abruptly, marked by the
tracings of its wing feathers against the snow. At several points red
squirrel "highways" criss-crossed the trail, back and forth from tree
to tree. Deer mice identified themselves with their long tails dragging
in the snow. A vole of some sort had crossed the road at one point, it's
trail like a small deer mouse, but without the tail marks. Here and there
tiny shrews had alternately hopped over the surface or plowed under the
shallow snow, leaving long tunnels. Snowshoe hares, with their enormous
hind feet, had bounded along the road in a dozen places. Then, two real
"finds": the feet-together bounding gait of a fisher, and then a similar,
smaller set of prints, revealing a marten had been by, too. In a couple
of hours I'd encountered 12 kinds of animals, though I'd seen only one,
a red squirrel chattering at me from a jack pine bough. The tracks they
left in the snow were tangible proof of their presence. All that had separated
us was time.
Making sense of tracks in the snow is not difficult.
Identifying the animal that left a particular track is the first step
and this requires some practice, but there are a number of good books
and web sites around to get you started. The dean of these resources is
Olaus J. Murie's A Field Guide to Animal Tracks, No. 9 in the Peterson
Field Guide Series; first published in 1954, it is still the standard.
If you're looking for a new winter activity, give
tracking a try. It's a great way to glimpse into the lives of our all-to-often
unseen wildlife, and another way to appreciate our Manitoba winters. |

|