One of my passions and practices is wildlife tracking: identifying tracks and sign left by animals on the landscape, and reading them to tell the story of (and possibly find) that animal.
This is often met with curiosity. A common question is, “Why do you do this?”
I used to say: I notice more than I ever did before. Or, I always feel better after spending time outside, following tracks. I feel alive outside.
I might also say: It makes the mundane, miraculous.
Let me show you.
A few weeks ago, I was walking one of the sand roads at Cedar Creek Ecosystem Science Reserve, in East Bethel. We often walk this stretch of road, looking for track and sign in the sand. It has shared many stories of red fox, deer, coyote, striped skunk, insects, frogs, and once (notably!) an otter loping along.
Today, the sand was silent — but one of the small red oak trees caught my attention. It was stunted in growth, shaded by others in its copse.
As I looked more closely, I noticed evidence of three different species interacting with this tree.
First, I noticed the green spheres on several of the leaves. Looking closely, these were part of the leaf, attached at the margin.
These are oak apple galls, created by one of many cynipid wasps that make spherical leaf galls on oaks. Each one of these spheres contains a developing larva at its center. Depending on the species, the gall may be filled with spongy tissue or mostly hollow, with fibers anchoring the cell in the middle of the protective capsule.
Then, I noticed the long, fuzzy growths along the midrib of other leaves. Wow! That’s clearly another gall — but I hadn’t seen this kind before.
Taking a step back and looking at the whole tree, I noticed evidence of the third being who fed upon it.
Many of the twig ends showed signs of being roughly torn off. Several looked to be recently damage to fresh spring growth, but many more were healed over and looked much older. You can see these ends in the close-ups above.
Who dined on these oak twigs? A common herbivore at this site: the white-tailed deer. In fall, the deer chow down on acorns produced by the oaks. In winter and spring, they browse on the woody twigs for sustenance.
Repeated browse like this points to a dense population of deer. Without their natural predators to keep numbers in check, they have flourished in this reserve. Unsurprisingly, we often see deer tracks following or crossing these sand roads, as well as their feeding sign on dropped acorns, other saplings like the eastern white pines, and raspberry canes along the roadsides.
Taking in the story of that red oak tree, I marveled.
How many times had I walked right by that tree and not noticed these interactions?
Who else relies on it for food or shelter? Are there fungi interacting with its roots? Or more invertebrates I don’t see? Will those galls attract birds to feed on the insect larvae, or will they hatch unscathed?
Who else was I missing this time?
What is this?
This is meditation: seeing, and knowing that I am seeing.
This is forest therapy: slowing down to notice and explore details of another being with all my senses.
This is tracking: noticing the interactions all around me, asking questions with curiosity, and seeking to understand why and how and when these particular animals are moving in this place.
For me, this is aliveness. And, it’s available to anyone, at any time.
Want to try this with support?
Join me for a public forest bathing or tracking session, to see what comes alive for you.
I guide experiences across the Twin Cities Metro area, including Cedar Creek Ecosystem Science Reserve in East Bethel.
Sign up here for monthly news of upcoming forest bathing and tracking sessions.
I generally schedule public sessions 2-3 months in advance. And yes, I guide in all seasons.
Resources for Further Exploration:
“How Wasps Make Beautiful and Complex “Oak Apples”: Brandywine Conservancy.
Track & Sign of Insects and Invertebrates. Charley Eiseman & Noah Charney.
Mammal Track & Sign of North America. Mark Elbroch and Casey McFarland.
