Stute Springs: Tracking wildlife and so much more!
January 15, 2024 | Topics: Places, Stories
By Eddee Daniel
Overnight everything changed. Our drought of snow ended and the world turned white. Finally, some satisfying winter weather. Just in time, too! Finding animal tracks is so much easier in fresh snow. The Stute Springs Nature Trail begins with a long stroll down a wide former driveway, which leads to the remains of an historic farm and homestead. However, our lesson in wildlife tracking begins just steps away from the parking lot.
The first fresh tracks we come upon (not counting those of humans and their canine companions) had been made by a rabbit. The characteristic pattern consists of four clustered paw prints, with the larger rear paws in front of the smaller front paws. Our guide, DNR educator Katie Whitstone, explains that the two forepaws land first, followed by the more powerful hind paws, which cross over the forepaws before landing and pushing off again. This one wasn’t going very fast, she observes, since the prints are clearly articulated and not smeared at all.
The next quartet of prints is almost halfway across the driveway. Someone remarks that the rabbit leaped pretty far between prints, especially if it wasn’t going fast.
Excited, the cub scouts in our group rush ahead to look for more tracks. They find … another rabbit. The same cluster of four paws. Similar long leap. After the third or fourth rabbit the excitement dims a bit. Then Katie identifies a more complex set of prints. They were made by a squirrel. We can all see the differences in the shapes of the paws, smaller and sharper-clawed. The pattern of the tracks is less compact, the leaps—or hops—closer together.
After that there are bird tracks. Lots of bird tracks. The three-toed prints could be any number of winter songbird species, Katie tells us; junco, cardinal, sparrow, nuthatch….
Learning about animal tracks is more than an academic exercise or Saturday morning diversion. It is important to remember that we share the land with wildlife—plants as well as animals; that it isn’t just a scenic place to go for a walk.
For a while we all stroll slowly along, on the lookout for something new. Then we reach the large clearing where we see several old structures, or parts of structures. Tracking is forgotten for the time being while everyone spreads out to explore them. Then Katie leads us down to the Springhouse. Inside we can see the constant stream of water gush out of the ground. It flows under the foundation. Out back we discover spring-fed water plants still vibrant green amid the snow-covered surroundings.
The Nature Trail officially begins next to the Springhouse. We plunge into the narrow trail, constrained to going single file. No human footprints precede us. But it is hard to spot any other tracks in the light dusting of snow on crumpled leaves. However, there are other signs of life to discover here. Katie shows us the stripped bark on a young tree where some buck has been rubbing his antlers. They do this to leave their scent and a visual marking that declares their presence and to communicate dominance. Also to bulk up neck and shoulder muscles.
Farther on, Katie points to a series of beige bulges clinging to the rough gray bark on a tree. She asks, what do you think these are? Cocoons, someone says. Bingo. But what kind?
Gypsy moths, she reveals. A particularly destructive invasive species that can kill an entire oak tree—indeed an entire oak forest! If not managed properly. She tells us that they got so bad at one point the DNR used helicopters to broadcast a species-specific pesticide in order to control their spread.
There are many kinds of mushrooms in the forest even in winter. From tiny polyphores that can climb a tree trunk en masse from ground to crown to giant shelf mushrooms that can cantilever a foot or more out from the surface of a trunk.
We leave the woods and head out across a broad open field towards a tall ridge in the distance. That is Big Hill. Cleverly named. Highest point in the Southern Kettle Moraine. I’ve been up there before. It has a lovely view in clear weather. But with snow still falling there isn’t much point to it today. We don’t go up. We do find the sign of a coyote, right in the middle of the path. Not tracks in the fresh snow, but scat—or poop, just to make it clear for the cub scouts. To their credit, no one is grossed out by this revelation, nor cracks a joke. Katie points out something much subtler though. Right next to the coyote scat are two small rabbit droppings. Predator and prey in close proximity!
Ski trails crisscross the field. There isn’t enough snow yet to ski on them, but I spot a couple of joggers as they head up a hill into the woods. Theirs are the only other new tracks we find in the snowy field.
Suddenly, Katie bends down and scoops up a handful of snow; packs it into a ball. The scouts are instantly alert and cluster around. To everyone’s surprise, she then takes a lighter out of her pocket, flicks up a flame and begins to melt the snow. But it doesn’t merely melt away. We peer in close where she shows us that the edge of the snowball has turned brownish. She explains that it is due to impurities in the snow. Plastic, most likely. Falling from the clouds.
“Does that mean we can’t eat it?” asks one of the kids.
We are left to ponder the significance of plastic in everything, everywhere. Our legacy to the world. We may refrain from eating snow again, but the wildlife has no knowledge of such things.
We must never forget that we humans are animals too, but we are the only animals with the capacity to love all other species. With that capacity comes the responsibility to care for them as we care for our own. One of the ways we do this is to set aside special places where the human presence and impact is kept to a minimum, airborne plastics notwithstanding. We are walking on the Stute Springs Nature Trail, which is located within the sprawling Southern Unit of the Kettle Moraine State Forest. But there are also a number of smaller preserves within its 22,000 acres.
On the way back, the trail runs up and along a narrow ridge that skirts the Eagle Oak Opening State Natural Area. The SNA designation is intended to “protect outstanding examples of Wisconsin’s native landscape of natural communities, significant geological formations and archeological sites.” Near the end of our hike we discover one particularly massive bur oak. Katie tells us that it has stood on this spot since before the Civil War. The remarkably long horizontal reach of its limbs indicates that it grew in an oak opening, not in the confines of a forest. I reflect on the gypsy moths, glad that they haven’t killed this behemoth.
By the time we get back to the entrance drive our band of hikers has dwindled from a high of fifteen to just the scouts, their den mothers, Katie and me. I have been marveling at how attentive the youngsters have been. Now, freed from any further educational purpose, they race each other down the drive, disappearing into the swirling snow.
It would be absolutely useless for any of us to work to save wildlife without working to educate the next generation of conservationists. ~ Jane Goodall
To learn more about Stute Springs Homestead and Nature Trail go to the DNR brochure available on their website.
Eddee Daniel is a board member of Preserve Our Parks.
One thought on "Stute Springs: Tracking wildlife and so much more!"
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Hi Eddee, I enjoyed seeing your photographs. The Stute Springs property was across Hwy 59 from my relatives, the Congdons. I grew up fishing in the Scuppernong stream and later stopped with friends of the Welch family, who had resided in the Stute house, to get watercress.
Jane Browne
262-271-6369