I’ve been getting more and more interested in squirrels. Like all animals, their lives are shaped by the seasons, and there’s much to discover if you can find and decipher the signs they leave. In late summer 
squirrels bite off oak twigs to get at the ripening acorns, and the “nip twigs” (minus acorns) can be found scattered under oak trees. The acorn remnants–shell fragments and partly eaten acorn meats–may also be found on the ground or on nearby logs or stumps where a squirrel has a good view of its surroundings while feeding.
In September I found these apparently uneaten acorns, along with cap and shell fragments, scattered on the ground beneath some red oak trees. The acorns were intact, but every one was marred by brown spots. 
This puzzled me at first, so I got out my magnifier and took a closer look. I noticed that there were tiny tunnels in some of the brown spots, and one even had a minute, worm-like insect larvae. I also saw indistinct gouges in a few of the brown spots that looked a lot like tooth marks. Mystery solved! The squirrels were feeding on acorn weevils, often found inside acorns and much richer in calories than the acorns themselves.
We’ve had a very wet fall, 
and fungi have been popping up everywhere. I’ve been surprised to see how fond squirrels are of mushrooms. I’ve repeatedly come across mushrooms which had been plucked from where they had grown, carried to some other spot, and partly or almost completely eaten. Bite marks sometimes showed along the edges, and there were always discarded pieces scattered around–squirrels seem to be sloppy eaters. 
Slugs and snails also seem to love mushrooms, but they simply make broad, shallow gouges in the caps and the mushrooms remain standing where they grew.
When the weather turns colder squirrels give up their summer leaf nests 
and move into more sheltered lodgings, often in hollow trees. Instead of using leaves, they line their nests with fibrous material. The inner bark of this dead branch was stripped off by a squirrel and used to provide warm insulation for its nest. The smoothly denuded wood surfaces and hanging remnants are typical of squirrel work. 
In addition, there are usually a few gouges made by the animal’s incisors somewhere in the debarked area. Dead branches are the most common source of good nest lining material, but the bark of living honeysuckle and other shrubs is a favorite material where they are available.
You may have been wondering which squirrels I’ve been talking about. Actually, I’ve purposely avoided naming them because I’m often not sure. Our mixed forests host both red and gray squirrels, not to mention northern and southern flying squirrels, and it’s often difficult to know which species left a particular sign. I suspect that the oak nip twigs and the weevil feeding were done by gray squirrels, but red squirrels also feed on acorns. I’m pretty sure both red and gray squirrels eat mushrooms, and all of our squirrels line their winter nests with fibrous material. There are some types of sign–certain kinds of marking, and large middens under conifers–that can definitely be attributed to a particular species; more about those in future blogs. Until then, we’ll adopt the wise tracker’s attitude and recognize the limits of our certainty.
I just spent a wonderful week in the western Adirondacks, and I was able to indulge in one of my favorite activities: exploring the Independence River on foot–in other words, wading. Besides being breathtakingly beautiful, the Independence is small enough to be safely waded when water levels are low, and there are plenty of sandbars and silty edges where tracks can be found. These bear tracks were the find of the day. 
The bear was traveling from left to right, and my dog (she likes to explore rivers with me) left tracks below the bear’s, going in the opposite direction. The first bear print at the upper left is the right front, and just to its right is the right rear. A little farther to the right is the left front print and to its left the left rear. The pattern of rear print ahead of front from the same side tells me that the bear was moving at an overstep walk–a gait often used for relaxed investigation or leisurely travel.
there are usually plenty of other indicators that bears are in the neighborhood. Bears use a variety of marking techniques to communicate with other bears, and these marks are often prominent and long-lasting. A bear raked this white pine tree with its claws, leaving fresh claw marks which oozed with copious sap flows.
On a different day during my recent visit to the ‘Daks I walked along a forest road where posts had been set to mark the locations of culverts. It was clear that bears were habitually using that road–many of the posts, like this one, were ravaged by bear bites. The brighter wood exposed by the bites stands out to our eyes, but for the bear the scent of the saliva-soaked wood is probably more important.
They often rub against trees or wooden structures leaving a personal scent signature from the oils and sebaceous chemicals in their fur. Another post along that same forest road was decorated with hairs left by a bear that had done just that.
This time of year in the Adirondacks black cherries are a favorite item, as demonstrated by this example. Elsewhere the skins and seeds of apples, grapes, viburnums and berries; squash and pumpkin seeds; corn kernels; or the shells of hickory nuts, beechnuts and acorns may show up in late summer scat. This is the season of ursine hyperphagia, the insatiable hunger that drives bears to eat almost 24 hours a day. The thick layers of fat they put on will allow them to survive their long winter hibernation.
he one that first caught my eye was the right rear print that lies off by itself in the lower right part of the photo. The much larger rear print of a gray squirrel lies above it, and at least two other chipmunk tracks are visible among the unrelated disturbances in the upper part of the photo. The chipmunk’s right front print sits in the left part of the frame midway between top and bottom, and its left rear print can be seen above the squirrel track. The left front print isn’t obvious but a few small depressions suggest that it lies above the right front in the upper left quadrant of the photo. The chipmunk was moving toward the right.
so I’ve focused in on them in the photo to the left. The toes and claw marks are visible, four of each in the front track (at the upper left) and five in the rear track (at the lower right). Behind the toes you can see the grouped depressions that make up the middle pads of both the front and rear tracks. For such a small creature those tracks are exquisite.
central three toes lie close together and point forward, while the inner and outer ones sit farther back and are angled to the sides. The four toes of the front prints are spread more or less evenly. The middle pads of both front and rear feet are made up of four depressions, arranged in a crescent in the rear and a more triangular shape in the front. In the front print the heel pads, located just behind the middle pads, show as small paired depressions.
It took perfect mud to register the details in these white-footed mouse tracks (heading toward the top of the photo), but the family resemblance comes through clearly. The numbers and arrangements of the toes are the same, and the middle pads of both front and rear prints are similar to those of the chipmunk and the squirrel. You can even see the heel pads, albeit slightly smeared, in the front tracks!
you come to the muddy patch shown in the photo. It’s busy with the tracks of mountain bikes, dogs, and people’s boots, and you’re tempted to simply step around the mess and continue on. But instead you push yourself to look more closely, and you immediately notice a couple of intriguing prints (located just to the right of center in the photo). As you examine them you see that they are the rear (above) and front (below) tracks of a canine, and they surely don’t look like domestic dog. The lower print, 
shown in the next photo (it’s located down and to the right of center in the first photo), 
exhibits plenty of revealing detail. The toes are held tightly together, with the outer and inner ones tucked closely behind the two leading toes. There is a nice canine X made by the ridges between the middle pad, the inner and outer toes, and the two leading toes pressed together. The mud is textured by compressed hair, and a chevron-shaped indentation shows in the middle pad. Claw marks are faint except for that of the left leading toe, which is slender and points straight ahead. This is unmistakably the front print of a red fox, and the smaller print ahead and to its left is a rear. Other than those two tracks the fox left little evidence of its passing, but I was delighted to know that it had traveled the same trail I was following.
and the hair sometimes shows beautifully in the fine silt and mud of summer. Here’s a photo from a muddy spot along an ATV trail in which the hair is really obvious. The front track is at the upper right and the rear is at the lower left. (Between them is the track of a raccoon that was turning to the left.) In addition to the hairiness, you can see the difference in size between front and rear tracks as well as the bar in the middle pad of the front print.
In the photo you can see a front print in the upper right corner (there’s a maple seed partly covering two toes) and behind that print a rear track, both heading toward the right. In the lower left quadrant are a front and rear that are going in the opposite direction. What I love about these tracks are the peculiar indentations where the surface layer of mud was actually picked up by protruding parts. Take a look at the front track in the upper right corner. The chevron in the middle pad picked up the surface layer of mud and left a slightly curved indentation. The small horny pads that sit at the tips of the toes and protrude from the hair also picked up some mud and left oblong indentations. And the same thing happened in the two leading toes of the rear print (over to the left of the front print) to produce oval indentations. Around some of these holes there are larger shadowy impressions that show where the rest of the toe touched the mud. The hairless protruding parts of red fox feet don’t always show in tracks, and you may wonder, as I have, whether they serve any purpose.
So to finish that sequence here’s a print from mud that was almost unyielding and nearly dry. Again it’s a red fox print, but a very different looking one. (The card at the upper left is a one inch square for size reference.) The direction of travel is toward the right, and the deepest marks were made by the claws punching into the mud. The tips of the horny toe pads (the same structures that picked up bits of mud in the previous photo) show behind each claw mark, and in the area of the middle pad we see the chevron. If the fox had been moving slowly we would have strained to detect any evidence of its passing, but this fox was going fast enough for the claws, the small protruding toe pads, and the hairless chevron of the middle pad to push into the hard mud. And here’s a possible answer to our question from the preceding paragraph. These structures must have helped to give the fox traction. Perhaps without them the hairy feet would slip and the fox’s footing would be compromised.
The mink is one of my favorite animals, so I’m always happy to find tracks like these, from a Tracking Club outing a few weeks ago. The marks made by the toes (5 on both front and rear feet) are small and oval or tear-drop shaped, and they form lopsided crescents around the middle pads. The claws may show as tiny pricks or as pointed extensions of the toes. The smallest toe lies on the inside of the track and farther back than the other toes, and it doesn’t always show. The mink that left these impressions was fidgeting around on a patch of stream side mud (the water is visible at the upper left) and the clear prints are mostly from the front feet.
Here are the two front and two rear tracks of a mink arranged in a pattern often seen in mink trails. The first track at the lower right is the right front, and the last one at the upper left is the left rear. In the center of the photo the left front is on the left and the right rear is on the right. The animal was loping from the lower right to the upper left, and the order of footfalls was right front, left front, right rear, left rear. 
A mink traveling 
on stream ice a few winters ago left a string of similar four-print patterns. In the center of each grouping the left front print is slightly behind instead of ahead of the right rear, but otherwise they’re a good match with the previous photo, with the same direction of travel and order of footfalls. Notice how the four-print groupings are separated by spaces with no tracks–a characteristic of lopes and gallops. When I see trails like this I can picture the mink doing its easy, ground-covering lope, its spine curving and extending with each landing and take-off. I couldn’t find a video of a loping mink that I liked, but I did find one of a fisher (closely related to the mink) doing the same gait. Watch it 
places for finding mink tracks, especially if there are roots or debris piles where prey animals can hide. The patch of sand visible in the center of this photo captured the tracks of a mink that was hunting in the surrounding tangle of logs and branches, deposited by a big flood several years ago.
But minks are resourceful when it comes to finding food. Last spring I was walking by an old log landing and I noticed a drying mud puddle. I’m always interested in mud so I went over to take a look, and to my surprise found mink tracks around the edges. There was a small pond nearby, but otherwise not much water, and I didn’t understand why this place–just a big area of bared mineral soil with a few mud puddles–would interest a mink. 
But the tracks were plentiful and very clearly mink. In the photo on the right the mink tracks run from lower left to upper right, and the big prints in the middle belong to my dog. As I moved around the edge and pondered, the mystery resolved itself. 
A leopard frog leaped from a grass clump into the water, then another one jumped, and then several more. Some enterprising mink had discovered the puddle, perhaps just as the tadpoles were transforming into frogs, and made use of the easy dinner. There were still plenty of frogs left to spend their summer feeding in the surrounding forest, overwinter deep in the soil, and then mate and lay eggs in the puddle next spring.