The Language of the Forest
When we first moved to Lassbyn we met a man named Leif Wallerström who told us about his hobby, tracking. We sat in our neighbor’s kitchen listening to him go on and on about this subject that I had never even hear about. At the time what I was most amazed by was his passion for it, Jeremias seemed to have some knowledge on the subject, but I just listened politely. A couple of weeks later, when he was over for coffee, the subject came up again, but this time he had a PDF to show us. It was a course on tracking, in August, that would be led by Mike Douglas, and hosted by Toby Cowern of Tread Lightly Survival school in Robertsfors. Jeremias jumped on the idea, and my FOMO (fear of missing out) pushed me to want to join as well. I think some of my best experiences in life have come from me jumping into something with little to zero knowledge of the subject itself.
So the time came for us to spend three days in Robertsfors learning about animal and human tracking. ‘But wait, what the hell is tracking?’ you might ask. I had the same question when we driving to the school.
It is used in military operations where you may be tracking an enemy. We experienced this scenario when our commander radioed that there was a possible sniper in the area. Our team was on an open plateau, and dropping to our knees was our automatic response. Through laughter the commander messaged back that we remained in a vulnerable spot, and that we should find significant cover until we were updated on the situation.
It is used for search and rescue purposes, which is what I found most interesting. By being able to read the tracks of the subject you can see where they went, what they were doing, which way they looked, if they were hungry, tired, injured.
You can use it for hunting. In this way you can not only understand where the animal is, but how is interacts in its world.
No matter how you choose to use it, the only way you can be successful is to connect yourself to the nature that surrounds you.
Activities on the course varied from practical skills to self awareness skills, that ultimately led to what can only be described as a spiritual ‘hangover’. Not only were we learning skills to track animals and humans, and studying pressure releases in different substrates, but we were also tracking ourselves. We learned to pay attention to the silences in the forest, to feel our heart beating in our fingers, to step carefully and deliberately, ‘fox walking.’
On the first morning we were instructed to put blindfolds on, and walk to a rope 3 meters away from us. From there (still blindfolded) we used the rope to guide us through the forest, up over rocks, under branches. ‘Huh?...but….How do I?...OK OK everyone go before me.’ This is what went through my head, but I just stood there looking stupid and bewildered. After letting a bunch of people go ahead of me I stood there with my blindfold on peeking under it to make sure I was still facing the right direction. Finally I began walking, and I felt very uncomfortable! I can admit this now that I had tears at some points (thank god for the blindfold). I fell down a lot, and bumped into branches, but ultimately made it out on the other side.
While I was blindfolded, and walking (stumbling) through the forest, I had a realisation...tracking and dog mushing... it’s all the same. Before we began our blind walk we did an exercise called ‘owl eyes’ in which we used our peripheral vision to see things around us. When I am driving my dog team I can watch the trail ahead of my dogs while simultaneously notice changes in the team or a single dog. When I only have my ears to rely on, I can hear what the dogs are doing. I understand different kinds of barks, and I know when things are ‘a little too quiet.’
The last day held the biggest challenge as we worked in organized tracking teams, and searched for missing people. We worked in a ‘Y’ formation. For some of us, like myself and Jeremias, it was totally new, while others had some experience. Those of us that were new spent a fair bit of time trying to understand the formation, how to ‘speak the language’, and how to communicate in the correct way. It took me, again, back to dog mushing. When I first started running dogs everything felt chaotic. I missed things happening. A tangle would happen, and I would not have seen why or how, only the resulting problem. But the more I worked with the dogs, and the more kilometers I had on the runners, the more I was able to see. The more I was able to sense. The more I was able to foresee. Mike talked about his relationship with his tracking team. Because he works so closely with them, he can read them, and vice versa, from the smallest movements. I know that feeling, not from a tracking team, but from my team of dogs. It’s helpful for simple things like when a certain dog looks at you in that special way that means ‘I need to poop.’ Or, in more subtle way, like when a dog’s gait changes in such a way that you can not only tell that there’s a problem, but you can predict what and where that problem is. I use my dog team to help me point out problems on the trail. They have a better understanding of the trail than I do, so if I can read their reactions to the trail I can get a sense of what is to come.
The feeling of a team working harmoniously together, whether it be tracking or dog, is like a chord being strummed. I can’t put the feeling into words, but can only describe it as a warm feeling in your heart. I get the same feeling when I am ‘one with my dog team,’ (as cheesy as that may sound), and I can imagine that is how well oiled tracking teams feel when they’re out in the field.
What are we left with? We have some new friends, and some basic skills, and we’re hoping to be part of tracking team in the future. More importantly though we had a chance to get some perspective. A moment to have a closer look at how we interact in nature.
Whether you’re a prepper, military personnel, into building primitive shelter, vagabond, or a dog musher. This course is highly recommended.
Take a closer look at Mike Douglas’s school in Maine, and Toby Cowern’s School in Roberstfors.
