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Reviving the Ancient Art of Tracking Wildlife

The 28th question of the most challenging exam since college left me pondering over a smudged footprint imprinted in the damp sand. This track, characterized by four teardrop-shaped toes and a trapezoidal heel pad, displayed an anomaly: the middle toe jutted above the others, reminiscent of a human’s middle finger. As I knelt closer to examine the print, I noticed the absence of claw marks, a clue that suggested it could be a feline print, particularly that of a bobcat. I cautiously noted my conclusion: BOBCAT.

This imaginary bobcat was believed to be wandering a sandy floodplain in the California desert while I was participating in a wildlife tracking assessment on a sunny April afternoon. The test was organized by Tracker Certification, a North American offshoot of CyberTracker Conservation, a South African nonprofit known for wildlife tracking evaluations for the past three decades. Around me, fellow students engaged in their own tracking assessments, studying a range of wildlife clues—from owl pellets to gnawed willow stems. The atmosphere was reminiscent of a serene library as we attempted to decode the stories told by the landscape.

Tracking, a practice as old as humankind itself, has played a crucial role in our evolutionary history. It allowed early humans to effectively hunt, forming social groups, enhancing cognitive skills, and catalyzing the development of language. As noted by Carl Sagan in his 1995 work The Demon-Haunted World, tracking may have been instrumental in humanity’s evolutionary progression, suggesting that those keen on observation and understanding their environment ultimately prospered. This ancient skill has transformed our ancestors from elusive creatures into dominant players on the global stage.

In modern times, however, tracking as a survival skill has diminished. Our species has largely shifted focus from hunting to digital engagements, with technology redefining how we understand and interact with wildlife. For instance, scientists frequently utilize satellite collars to track animal movements remotely or employ drones to observe wildlife in isolated regions. This has led to a reliance on high-tech gadgets, making the art of traditional tracking seem outdated.

Despite this, wildlife tracking is witnessing a resurgence, recognized for its value as an affordable, non-intrusive measure capable of gathering significant ecological data. Biologists now harness tracking to mitigate wildlife conflicts and prevent roadkill; in Wisconsin, they are safeguarding wolves from livestock encounters, while in Washington State, they monitor wildlife footprints returning to river valleys following dam removals. Volunteer trackers are increasingly aiding in wildlife studies, leveraging their skills to gather essential data along with professional researchers. “This creates an accessible and democratic means of capturing information,” said David Moskowitz, a naturalist and tracking expert.

Over the past two decades, Tracker Certification has conducted nearly 700 formal evaluations, successfully certifying over 2,300 individuals. Participants in these sessions represent a diverse array of backgrounds, from photographers and teachers to biologists and engineers. At the beginning of my workshop, we gathered in the sandy wash, sharing our motivations. One student expressed a desire to “read the little letters that the world is writing,” while another sought to avoid feeling like a mere tourist in nature. “You are all part of a movement to revive essential field and natural history skills worldwide,” noted Casey McFarland, the executive director of Tracker Certification, as he set us loose to explore the wilderness through tracks and signs.

Throughout human history, our ancestors exhibited remarkable tracking abilities that appeared almost magical. Elizabeth Marshall Thomas recounted her experiences in the 1950s while tracking a hyena in Namibia’s Kalahari Desert alongside three Ju/’hoansi hunter-gatherers. Raised by ethnographers, Thomas was fascinated by the Ju/’hoansi’s profound skill in tracking, which included identifying not just the species but individual animals over vast distances, an ability that required a keen understanding of the subtle changes in the terrain.

Thomas observed the Ju/’hoansi tailing a hyena purely by reading the environment, even across barren rock without visible tracks. Their ability to guess the path of the hyena was striking and left Thomas in awe: “How they did it, I have no idea.”

Indigenous communities in North America share a similar deep-rooted connection to tracking. As Ahíga Snyder, a Diné wildlife researcher, pointed out, tracking is deeply embedded in cultural narratives. In Diné mythology, the characteristics of animal tracks are reflected in stories, revealing the intertwined relationship between humans and wildlife. Understanding these tracks, Snyder noted, “opens up the entire world differently.”

In the past, tracking earned recognition within scientific disciplines. Notably, in 1936, biologist Adolph Murie meticulously studied red foxes in Michigan, observing their interactions and collecting data through careful tracking. However, as technology evolved, the tendency shifted towards using advanced tools, such as satellite collars and motion-triggered cameras, which streamlined data collection but diminished the emphasis on traditional tracking methods.

The revival of tracking began notably in the 1980s, initiated by Louis Liebenberg, who journeyed to the Kalahari Desert to work alongside the San, a group of hunter-gatherers. Liebenberg recognized that tracking correlated closely with scientific inquiry, involving hypotheses and observations akin to scientific method. His acknowledgment led to the development of CyberTracker, a tracking system that preserves Indigenous knowledge while facilitating documentation for guide roles and nature surveys.

Through the success of CyberTracker, Indigenous trackers began co-authoring scientific studies on wildlife behaviors and securing positions in conservation. In 2002, Liebenberg expanded the tracking protocols to the U.S., collaborating with wildlife biologist Mark Elbroch. Together, they demonstrated the utility of traditional tracking methods adapted to North American fauna.

Currently, Elbroch resides on the Olympic Peninsula as part of a long-term study focusing on mountain lions. One autumn day, I joined him and Kim Sager-Fradkin, along with efforts to analyze the behavior of a mountain lion named Orion, equipped with a satellite collar. Orion had recently stayed in one area longer than usual, suggesting he had made a kill. Elbroch hoped to uncover Orion’s meal and understand the surrounding circumstances.

As we ventured deeper into the wilderness under Elbroch’s guidance, we noted various indicators from the environment. “Bobcat scrape,” he noted quietly, pointing out where a cat had urinated to mark its territory. Each minute detail revealed connections within the natural web of life. We eventually discovered where Orion had consumed its prize, which told a compelling story of its hunting habits.

This practical tracking not only satisfied individual curiosity but also served vital purposes in wildlife study. While advanced technology provides insights into animal movements, understanding their dietary preferences is crucial for managing wildlife populations and reducing human-wildlife conflicts.

With this newfound awareness, I resolved to undertake tracking myself in my home state of Colorado, discovering the remnants of wildlife left behind in my local landscape. My determination led me to California, where I attempted to pass a tracking certification exam. The structure of the exam was straightforward yet challenging; evaluators provided a series of animal tracks and signs, asking participants to deduce their origins.

Despite the apparent simplicity of this task, interpreting the details of nature proved insightful. Each question prompted discussions around vibrant ecological interactions, revealing the layers of stories that landscapes tell. Through these experiences, I began to appreciate the immense complexity of the natural world and our fraught relationship with it.

The integration of tracking in modern research emphasizes the need for continual redefining of wildlife interactions. Researchers like Snyder and Tanya Diamond are employing tracking not just to understand animals but also to facilitate habitat connectivity. Their work involves identifying animal routes to create safer passages for wildlife, ultimately protecting both flora and fauna found along human-constructed landscapes.

For tracking to regain its rightful place in wildlife biology, it must overcome the perception challenges tied to human interpretation. Studies have highlighted observational errors made during identification processes, suggesting that while technology is not infallible, there exists a potential for tracking to yield reliable data through careful implementation and continual refinement.

Ultimately, merging advanced technology with traditional tracking craft could lead to profound insights into wildlife behavior, promoting coexistence between humans and animals. For instance, understanding how urban coyotes navigate their environments may shed light on fostering safer human-animal interactions. By examining patterns, researchers can implement preventative measures to mitigate wildlife disruptions, fostering a renewed understanding of our shared ecosystems.

The appeal of tracking lies not just in observing animals but also in reconnecting with the natural world often lost to urbanization. As illustrated through diversity in participation, tracking offers pathways for individuals from historically marginalized groups to engage with nature and nurture their health and wellbeing through a stronger connection to the environment. In this space, tracking transcends a mere skill—becoming a means of reclaiming identity and heritage.

Reflecting on my own experience grappling with the intricacies of tracking, I recognized that the knowledge gained—however imperfect—was invaluable. Each sign in nature reveals the lives entwined within it, reminding us that despite human encroachment, numerous species continue to inhabit these landscapes, carving their stories into the earth.

As we wrapped up our examination, McFarland eloquently reminded us of the importance of recognizing the presence of animals through their tracks and signs. Every mark we witnessed was not just a mere impression—it represented a living creature navigating its reality in a world increasingly dominated by humans. This accumulation of wisdom highlights the urgency to protect the natural world around us, stewarding it for future generations.

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