So there I was on the edge of Gresham, walking the same stretch of the Springwater Corridor that I have walked so many times before. It’s morning, and I see up ahead a tree that is bent to the ground along the trail. Nearing the tree, branches lay broken and smashed among leaves on the ground.
"Rascals!" I think, about the teenagers who climbed this tree and rode it to the ground, hacking at the branches and leaving it bedraggled.
Leaning in to take a closer look, I see the broken branches are thick, but curiously, I see no evidence of a tool used to hack or saw through the wood.
As a tracker, I have learned to look for patterns within disturbance, and disturbance within the patterns of nature. This tree bears fruit, and the branches seem far too thick to be easily and repeatedly snapped by hand. Taking people out of the equation, I begin to find hairs clinging to broken branches and notice repetition in how the bark on the branches is mangled.
What kind of tree is this? And what happened here?
What’s telling about this disturbance is the pairs of parallel marks that line the bark. These are like the “telltale heart” of canine teeth at work.
In our area, there is only one animal that can climb a tree, pull it to the ground and chomp through 1 ½"-wide branches. They do this to get at the fruit, which is too high for them to access otherwise.
I’ve seen this sign on Cascara trees many times in the Mount Hood and Sandy River areas and in the Washington Cascades as well. My conclusion is a comfortable fit, but considering I’m perched on the edge of the suburbs, a stone’s throw from houses and busy streets, I can’t help but smile and think of how the wild is coming closer to home.
I measure the width of the canine marks, and they’re 2 ¼“ wide. In combination with the fine, wavy hairs clinging to the branches, I know that a black bear is in the neighborhood.
For bears, summer and autumn are the seasons to pack on the weight while the living is easy. Eating up to 20 hours a day, bears are like eating machines until the lack of food signals that it’s time for hibernation. When living in a zoo, a well-fed bear will stay active all winter even in the coldest of climates.
In thicker food-bearing trees that don’t bend so easily, these acrobatic bears will find a perch where they can bend, gnaw and break the branches in their direction, creating what are known as a bear nests.
The width of this bear’s bite marks lands within the upper end of the range for its species. Like many animals, bears exhibit sexual dimorphism, meaning there are physical differences between males and females. In this case, male bears are much larger than females. Based on the measurements, I can tell this is an adult bear, most likely a male.
Exciting, no? I head for home with a spring in my step, and I can’t wait to tell my wife what I’ve found.
We return in the evening to take a closer look. As we take pictures and look for more clues, people trickle by with earbuds in, tunnel vision on. I can’t help but wonder: “Of the many people who will walk this way, how many will pick this story up from the landscape?”
To walk the woods as a tracker, nature speaks, and stories abound.
Come see for yourself. Join naturalist Ashley Conley and me in October and November for a three-part series on wildlife tracking.
Three-part wildlife tracking series
What: Through their daily travels, wildlife leave behind myriad stories on the landscape. Learn how to unravel the mystery and interpret the clues left behind. Fundamentals of tracking will be covered during the first, evening lecture. Track and sign interpretation will be practiced in the field during the second and third classes. Directions and locations for the second and third classes will be provided to registered participants. Suitable for ages 15 and up.
When, where:
Oct. 29, 6:30 to 8:30 p.m., Lucky Labrador Brew Pub, 915 SE Hawthorne Blvd., Portland
Nov. 2, 9:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., Metro natural area
Nov. 9, 9:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., Metro natural area
Cost: $50 per person
Details and registration