Making tracks

In advance of my upcoming bush wacking/bear wrestling/generally badass wknd, I decided it would be good for me to become familiar with (or at least recognize) the basics of real nature.  As usual, I turned towards one of the docs here who could pretty much quit his doctor gig today and make more money as wilderness tour guide.  Very impressive.

We set out, this time sans snowshoes, on an uncharacteristically warm day, towards the neighbouring island of Sawpit.  I appreciated how the winter facilitates easy transportation to both the mainland and these scenic nearby spots.  

The walk was edifying and I am proud to say I can now tell fox tracks from rabbit tracks, identify a snow-covered beaver lodge, distinguish a fir tree from a spruce tree with my naked eye, and better understand what attracts pple to come live here.

Part of the trail that opens near our house.

On the frozen, snow-covered Moose River.  
Sawpit to the left, Charles Island to the right.  
The tracks are from snowmobiles.

"Street art" MF style

Fox prints close up

Fox tracks!  You can tell by how the prints 
go in a straight line.

Human tracks.  You can tell by how much they 
mar the landscape.

Rabbit tracks.  You can tell because they 
create a 3-legged pattern, from
where their bums hit the ground.

Squirrel tracks.  You can tell by how they 
barely mark the ground, with
well demarcated prints.

This is a beaver trap.  See how subtle it is?  
It is cleverly affixed near the entrance to a beaver 
lodge near the dam.  As one enters or exits the lodge,
the trap springs, decapitating it instantly.  
The trapper then returns at her leisure to collect the 
body.  It is a high social crime to harvest
from another's trap, and as such we didn't pull it 
up to see if it was sprung.  Pity.

This is the dam, snow covered.  The trap 
protrudes from the top.  Before setting it, the 
trapper analyzes the pattern of prints, showing
the route the beaver takes into and out of 
the trap, and then she strategically places it 
for minimal impact.

This is the snow covered beaver lodge,
 right beside the dam.  You'd never 
know if you weren't looking for it.

Our sage guide stands atop the lodge.  
This doesn't harm the beavers.

We hit an area of thigh high snow.  Old hat stuff now.

This is Bingo, he's a total sweetheart.  
His crib is the bomb. His parents must be well off 
or highly skilled carpenters.

Bingo's crib.

Drinking it in.

Pop quiz:  What kind of tree is this?  
It's ubiquitous in these parts 
*hint: it tans in the sun*