Winter brings snow, and snow is a canvas. The landscape around us, which can seem relatively quiet, is suddenly revealed as being a flurry of activity, even in deep winter. Every footfall recorded for posterity, or until another footstep covers it, anyway. In our yard the pristine tracks are quickly eradicated, and the snow becomes a tangle of tracks. But up north, where I snowshoe, the woods are wider, the snow falls more frequently, and the tracks stick around longer. A few times now, as I’ve been walking, my path has intersected with an animal’s path, and we walked together for awhile. The first couple of times, it was a small creature whose path mirrored mine for a ways. It was like walking with a little shadow — a furry friend who stayed just out of sight. This past weekend, however, when I went to explore new trails, I found myself trudging up a pristine hill, with no tracks….and no blazes. I looked around, trying to find the trail, when I spied a line of tracks up ahead. They led through a break in the trees, and after a short while I found a blaze, and the trail. The tracks were older, filled in somewhat by new or blowing snow, and it was difficult to tell what animal made them. It could have been a deer or a fox, as the prints moved in a straight line. Based on their depth, I believe they were deer, but I like to imagine each in turn, leading the way for me. The deer is a stag, and he turns his head, twitches an ear, listens to be sure I’m following, and then walks on. The fox walks confidently forward, knowing I’d follow that beautiful bushy tail wherever it might lead. It makes sense that the animal would use the trail; the open space makes for easy walking. But still, I find it a lovely coincidence that the tracks appeared just as I needed them. When they continued on their way off trail a few hundred feet on I paused, looking wistfully at where they led away into the thicker woods. Then counted myself lucky for having had a companion at all, and walked on through the woods.
