Advertisement At one place, the hop- hop … slide, hop - hop … slide pattern left in the snow indicated that an exuberant river otter had passed through. Not far away on another slough the otter’s smaller relative, the mink, had left a wandering trail in the snow telling of a search for one of its favorite foods — the muskrat.
The trail led along the bank where I had watched a family of muskrats feeding and preparing for winter earlier in the fall. The mink had located and explored each of the tunnel entrances I saw when they were exposed along the bank during the unusually low water.
Fortunately for the muskrats, the water level later rose enough to form a protective layer of ice over the entrances. I saw no sign that the mink was successful in digging into any tunnels this time.
Another old trapper friend explained to me that my worries then about the muskrats being frozen out of their exposed tunnels and dens were unfounded.
In many cases, he said, the muskrats ended up with three sets of dens; the aborted high water dens from earlier in the fall, the also abandoned low water dens and a final version to match the water level shortly before freeze-up. That’s why you may have noticed so many more dens than usual this year.
He said the muskrats have no doubt also dug new deeper tunnels to gain access to roots and other foods under the ice during the winter.
Owls on the prowl
Another patch of snow-covered ice revealed an especially dramatic story. Tiny sets of tracks in the snow indicated that two mice had ventured across a slough to take a short cut to the other side — most likely under cover of darkness. One of them had obviously made it all the way across, but the other trail ended only six feet or so from the bank.
The swishing trail of an owl’s tail feathers marked the snow where it had swept across the abruptly ending mouse trail. Clearly that mouse had become a meal for the sharp-eyed and silent nocturnal raptor.
Hawks on prowl
Owls haven’t been the only problem for mice and voles on Goose Island. As I mentioned earlier, I had seen several red-tailed hawks on the island during the fall and this winter I have continued to see an average of three or more every time I’ve been down there.
They were in virtually all parts of the island, but they have shown up most consistently in the park area north of the entrances to the campground.
They are often perched on tree branches along the west shore of the island or in the trees in the park all the way to the woods. Since they are usually very skittish, they often fly away when I attempt to slow down or stop for a better look. They seem to have a special instinct for when a camera is about to pop up since that’s about the time they like to take off whenever I was successful in stopping long enough to get a look.
But one of my main principles in getting nature photos is persistence. Add perseverance and patience and you have some of the essential ingredients for a wildlife photographer. Oh yeah, let’s not forget add the really big one — luck!
So I have been frequently stopping by the road, lurching along, watching the rear ends of disappearing hawks, coming back again, and waiting for hours until finally I’ve begun to get a few photo ops with my new elusive friends on Goose Island. Despite our own little games of hide-and-seek, complicated by interference from cars, trucks, walkers, talkers and — most dreaded of all — the ever-restless, noisily yapping, hawk-scaring but charming little fur balls we call man’s best friend, the hawks and I have somehow finally come to a jittery sort of impasse.
A couple of them now occasionally go about their business in spite of me, even though they definitely know that I’m there, and occasionally I get a decent shot. Now if only the weather would cooperate and I could get some decent lighting.
Anyway, last week I finally got the chance to watch a red-tail sit on its hunting perch long enough to actually see it swoop down on some prey. Unfortunately, I missed the kill because it landed behind a tree, but I did watch the hawk eating the mouse or vole in the snow when I pulled forward a bit. After the hawk flew away, I walked over to the site to photograph the story in the snow.
There were rodent tunnels in the melting snow all over the place, and the hawk’s tracks were easily seen straddling the spot of blood that was all that remained of the victim. The traces left by wing and tail feathers in the snow marked the raptor’s takeoff after the meal.
It was a real joy to see the story left in the snow by a drama I had actually witnessed. It reaffirmed my confidence that my interpretation of the mouse and owl tracks found earlier were probably accurate.
Whaditiz
Voles have very short tails while mice have longer tails that can leave a mark in the snow.
Contact Jim Solberg at nitefrogger@charter.net or (608) 782-2560.
