It's doubtful you'll ever see tracks in the snow that indicate an animal has purposefully fabricated an angle in the cold, white powder — unless that animal was human.
But that doesn't mean the critters that inhabit the woods and fields of the north don't sometimes leave artistic impressions in the snow during their wanderings.
Snow, as an artist's medium, can portray the finest detail. The frigid powder detects even the diminutive tracks left by a shrew weighing just ounces. Yet snow will also tell a tale of the big whitetail buck that — under the cover of darkness — left its typical heart-shaped tracks.
An encyclopedia of knowledge can be gathered by investigating clues left in the snow.
A few weeks ago, I went on a short trek through the woods and fields of central Minnesota. Under an anemic winter sun, and with the temperature hovering a few degrees above freezing, I left the road.
A light easterly breeze barely stirred the bare winter tree limbs, which was delightful weather for a January day. The snow scarcely reached my ankles, yet there was enough to reveal the tracks of wildlife that had passed unseen during the previous few days and nights.
I came upon the tracks of a timber wolf not long into my foray. Only occasionally do I find wolf tracks in my neck of the woods. Upon discovering the tracks, my environment was suddenly transformed. I was now in a far removed landscape somewhere Up North.
As I followed along, my eyes sometimes left the prints as I glanced ahead. I didn't expect to see the maker of the tracks, but I could envision the big predator trotting along.