An Encounter with a Fisher

Sightings of wild mammals are generally rare, and when they do occur it’s usually just a quick glimpse of the tail end of the animal as it flees at top speed. So my recent encounter with a fisher was doubly unusual. I was walking downhill on a sloping section of forest road (Hammond Hill Road in Hammond Hill State Forest for those who know the area). That part of the road is straight so I could see pretty far down the hill, and I suddenly realized there was a dark animal moving around on the road far below. I froze, not sure at first what kind of animal it was and hoping it wouldn’t realize I was there. It didn’t–in fact it actually began coming up the hill toward me. As I got a better view of its elongated body, short legs, and long fluffy tail I realized it was a fisher. I watched as it moved in a completely relaxed manner–apparently unaware of my presence–and marveled at its beauty. I was afraid if I made a move to get out my camera the fisher would take off, so I didn’t dare try for a photo. But here’s a good photograph of a fisher obtained from the Vermont Center for Ecostudies (https://vtecostudies.org/blog/walk-with-the-fisher-on-outdoor-radio/).

The fisher continued to move uphill in my direction at a steady bounding gait, with an occasional pause to look around. When less than 50 feet separated us, it suddenly realized I was there. It stood up on its hind legs, stared at me for a few seconds, and then bounded off into the trees.

Of course I immediately went to look at the tracks. Because the snow was dry and fluffy most of the prints weren’t clearly defined, and the cloudy conditions made things even harder to see–and nearly impossible to photograph. But there was a spot farther down the hill where the snow was firmer and the track details showed up better. A set of four prints from that part of the trail is shown in the photo below (direction of travel from right to left). The pattern

resembles the bound of a cottontail rabbit: the two front tracks are narrowly set behind the rear tracks, and one (the left front) leads the other. The rear tracks are more widely separated and almost even with each other. Typical mustelid structure shows in the prints: the five toes are arranged in a lopsided crescent and the middle pads form a smaller crescent behind the toes.

That was only one of several different gait patterns I saw as I backtracked along the fisher’s trail. In true mustelid fashion the animal had been very flexible in the way it placed its feet. Rather than showing the rather poor photos from that day I’ll illustrate two of the variations I saw with shots that I took on other days (the direction of travel again is from right to left). As in the opening shot the four tracks in the photo below are well separated, but the rear prints are staggered rather than even with each other, and one is positioned slightly behind the leading front print.

In the next shot the left rear foot came down on top of the left front, leaving a pattern that looks at first like there are only three tracks. But in the heel area of the middle impression there’s an inner ridge and a wider area of disturbance to its left, showing that two feet did actually land there.

In addition to those two there were other variations–changes in the leading front or rear foot and slightly different placements of the second and third feet to hit the ground–but to my eyes the fisher’s bounding movement appeared to be uniform and unvarying. Except for momentary pauses it moved steadily uphill with the gently arching leaps that are so typically mustelid. One difference did stand out, and that was a variation in the leap lengths: the four-print patterns that matched the one shown in the first photo were separated by slightly longer distances than the patterns shown in the second and third photos. The fisher apparently wanted to move faster, and I suspect that the more even placement of the rear feet in the first photo delivered more power and enabled longer leaps. But there were many variations in the patterns that didn’t involve any changes in leap length, so there must be other factors that cause a fisher to vary the way it places its feet. I can only imagine the subtle interactions that go on between the animal and its surroundings. I hope that with further study of fisher trails, and maybe even some additional encounters with fishers, I’ll be able to understand more of the puzzle.