Wing Prints in Snow

The mysteries of wildlife tracks left in/on snow know no bounds. Nature’s narrative winding across a white landscape. Normally this December-into-January threshold would be white. There would be snow, possibly even lots of snow. But, in this era of climate change, does it even makes sense to refer to normal seasonal benchmarks, normal meteorological expectations, normal winter? Less sense every day, I suspect. But I’m not ready to relinquish one of the joys of winter: searching for wing prints in snow.

I don’t recall whether or not I was fascinated with animal and bird tracks in snow as a child, but I suspect I was. I am now… (Source: Decrypting Bird Tracks in Snow)

Ten years ago I reflected on how (and why) I find it compelling to try and decrypt bird tracks left in the snow. I credited my nephews with kindling my curiosity.

It wasn’t until my nephews (now teenagers but still “pocket sized” then) began asking me to identify bird tracks in snow, four legged critter tracks on muddy paths, and snake trails on the sand that I rediscovered how exciting it is to decipher locomotive narratives on the ground. That was more than a decade ago. The boys’ interests have wandered from bird tracks in snow to life’s adventures, but I’m still wandering around looking at the ground trying to figure out what passed where. And when. And why. (Source: Decrypting Bird Tracks in Snow)

I wrote that on March 17, 2014, so that point of reference is now about two decades old. But I’m still fascinated by visual hints of our wild neighbors’ happenings. And I find wing prints in snow especially mesmerizing. Yes, there’s often a story waiting to be deciphered. A protagonist and an antagonist. Echos of a plot…

But even more often, wing prints in snow strike me as poems. More lyric than linear narrative. More poetry than prose.

Wing Prints in Snow

Midday light reveals 
a memory impressed,
a wild signature scrawled
upon powdery snow
of untouched field.
Savage or sacred,
crisp contours and 
blurred boundaries,
a sudden descent
focused by hunger,
wings spread wide.
Timeless touchdown
and sudden takeoff,
a stark calligraphy
fleeting, fleeting
for soon, so soon
sun and wind and
wandering
will unwitness
the ferocity
and the grace,
of predator
and prey.

Identifying Wing Prints

It’s tempting to follow wonder with analysis, analysis with conjecture, and conjecture with conclusion. But guessing is an imperfect way to identify wing prints in snow.

Identification [of wing prints] with certainty is fraught. We can’t use feather counts; and wingspan has its problems. Published wingspan measurements assume the wings are completely spread out on the horizontal. And, even if they are spread fully in the wild, Barred and Great Horned owls overlap in size.

Even then, how would we determine that the print was made on a perfect horizontal? Most of what we see in the field can be 20 to 30 degrees off horizontal. To adjust, we’d have to employ trigonometry.

So, unless we find foot prints or scat, we’ve decided to dispense with the math – and simply enjoy these avian snow angels. (Source: Kent McFarland and Bryan Pfeiffer, Vermont Center for Ecostudies)

I love the way the others resolve the question of how to (successfully and accurately) decipher wing prints in snow: “simply enjoy this avian snow angels.” Indeed!

It’s worth noting that these photos of wing prints in snow were made in Rosslyn’s back meadows and woods during lunchtime cross country ski and snowshoe outings… So, if you’re trying to long distance decipher these stories/poems, it helps to know that birds were on the Adirondack Coast in meadows with broken, intermittent woodlands. Good luck!

Let’s wrap up with a fun example of how to recognize and interpret wing prints in snow.