science and art of tracking

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REDISCOVERTHE JOYSAND BEAUTYoF NATUREWITH TOM BROWN,JR.THETRACKERTomBrown'sclassicrue story-the mostpowerful ndmagical high-spiritual adventure since The TeachingsofDon JuanTHE SEARCHThe continuing story of The Tracker,exploring the ancientart of the new survivalTHB VISIONTom Brown's profound, personal journey into an ancientmysticalexperience, he Vision QuestTHE QUESTThe acclaimed outdoorsmanshows how we can save ourplanetTHE JOURNEYA messageof hope and harmony for our earth and ourspirits-Tom Brown's vision for healing our worldGRANDEATHERThe incredibletrue storyof a remarkableNativeAmerican andhis lifelong searchor peaceandfiuth in natweAWAKENING SPIRITSFor the first time, Tom Brown shares he unique mediationexercises sedby studentsof his personalTrackerClassesTHEWAY OFTHE SCOUTTom Brown's real-life apprenticeship n the ways of thescouts-ancient teachingsastimelessasnature tselfTHE SCIENCEANDTHEART OF TRACKINGTom Brown shares he wisdom of generationsof animaltrackers-revelations that awaken us to'our own place innature and in the world

AND THE BESTSELLINGSERIESOFTOM BROWN'SFIELD GUIDES


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Berkley Books by Tom Brown, Jr.THE TRACKER (astold to Williarn lon Wathns)THE SEARCH (with William Owen)'TOM BROWN'S FIELD GUIDE TOWILDERNESS SURWVAL(with Brandt Morgan)TOM BROWN'S FIELD GUIDE TO NATUREOBSERVATIOI\TAND TRACKING(with Brandt Morgan)TOM BROWI{'S FIELD GUIDE TO CITY ANDSUBURBAN SURVIVAL (with Brandt Morgan)TOM BROWN'S FIELD GUIDE TO LIVINGWITH THE EARTH (with Brandt Morgan)TOM BROWN'S GUIDE TO WILD EDIBLE ANDMEDICINAL PLANTSTOM BROWN'S FIELD GUIDE TO THEFORGOTTEI{ WILDERNESSTOM BROWN'S FIELD GUIDE TO NATUREAND SURVTVALFOR CHILDREN(with Irdy Brown)THE VISIONTHE QUEST :THE IOURNEY i

'GRANDFATHERAWAKENING SPIRITSTHE WAY OF THE SCOUTTHE SCIENCE AI..IDART OF TRACKING

,\bout the AuthorAt the age of eight, Tom Brown, fr., began to learntrachng ;"-d hunlting from Stalhng Wolfl ^ 4isplacedApache tndian. Todiv Brown is an Experienced iroods-otatr whose extraordiirary shll has t*ba many lives, in-cluding his own. He managesand teaches6ne of thelargesiwilderness and sun tvval chools n the U.S. andhaiinstructed many law enforcementagenciesand res-cue teams.

Most Berkley Books are available at special quanUty discountsfor bulk purchases or salespromotions, premiums, fund-raising,or educational use. Special books, or book excelpts, can alsobecreated to fit speciftc needs.For details, write to 'Special Markets, The Berkley PublishingGroup, 375 Hudson Street, Nerv York, New York 10014.


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THE SCIENCEAND ART OFTRACKINGTom Brown, ft.Photosby Debbie Brown

Illustrations by Nancy Klein

l3BERKLEYOOKS,EW ORK


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Thisbook s an originatpublicationof TheBerkleyPublishingGroup.THE SCIENCEANDART OF TRACKING

iA Berkley Book / published by arrangementwirh' the author

PRINTING HISTORYBerkley trade paperback edition / Febru ary L999r All rights reserved.Copyright @ 1999by Tom Brown, Jr.Photoscopyright @ 1999by Debbie Brown.Illustations copyright @ 1999 by Nancy Klein.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,by mimeograph or any other means,without permission.For information address:The BerklelPublishing Group,a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,375 Hudson Street,New York, New York 10014.The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address shtp ://www.penguinputnam.c om

; ISBN: 0-425-15772-5: BERKLEY@

Berkley Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014BERKLEY and the "8" designare trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.PRINTEDN THE UNITEDSTATES FAMERICA

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DEDICATIONIt all began with a track, a track that reached back into another time, a

distant time, the time of life's dawning. This ancient track, found lf"g onwhat was once the primordial shore, lwapped in the me&um we call a fossiland Grandfather called a "talhng stone," brought Grandfather and me to-gether. This stone and this young boy were his Vision, and his Vision becamemine. It was through the mystery of the tracks that I learned his way. Theway of the Earth and of "oneness."

The tracks have always been a major part of my life. Long before myschool opened its doors, long before I became a writer, and long before I wasknown for the teaching of survival, awareness,and philosophy, there was thetrack. I became known as the Tracker, trachng the lost and the criminal,assisting, hen &sappearing back into the isolation of the wilderness. It wasthe tracks that began my school, my writing, and the fulftllment of my Vision'

The tracks then are my life, for it is the tracks that have always guidedmy life. This book then is my legacy-Grandfather's legacy-of the spirit oftrachng . . . and it witl remain the most important physical work of my life.

It is with the importance of this Vision in mind that I dedicate this book,with all of my love, to my wife, Debbie, and our sons, Coty Tracker Brownand River Scout Brown-who taught me to read and follow new tracks, thetracks of love, the tracks of the heart.AND SPECIAL THANKS

To my wife, Debbie, who pulled me from the bowels of despair. Whostood by me and guided me back to my Vision when I was ready to give it allup. Wlro gave me life and hope again, refocused my Vision, and has workedtirelessly behind the scenes o build the Tracker School so that our messagewill reach more people. Grandfather's Vision, my Vision, now has become herVision and she has become my Vision.

To my son CoV, who loses his dad so often to the school and to thewriting of books. His love remains unconditional, for deep in his little hearthe lcrrowshe importance of the Vision. It is in him that I so often see Grand-father.

To my son Tommy, who for many years has given up his dad for thegreater Vision, now compounded by the additional separation of time anddistance.Yet I also find love and understanding.


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VI DedicationTo my mom, my dad, and my brother, Ii*, who have had to put up withme all these years,but who've still allowed me to follow my heart.To my greater family, the Horrocks, Debbie's family-Bill, Linda, Billy,Michael, Chris, Uncle Bill, and all their hds, who accepted rne and love medespite my Visionary moo&ness and quirks.To Nana,who hasbecome like a real grandmother to me. I want to thankher for her wisdom and love, and for a good swift boot in the pants when Ineed it most. Nana, I love you.And to all of my instructors at the Tracker School,past and present, andto all of my students, who make this Vision a living reality. I thank you all.For it is through all of you, the greater family, that this book has becomepossible.

Last, but not least, a sincere thanks to my editors, |ohn Talbot and TomColgan, who saw me through the impossibilities of writing this book and put-tittg my heart to words. i


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CONTEI\TSForeword by DebbieI n t r o d u c t i o n . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . , . . . . . . . . . . .o . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1 . T r a c h n g n dA w a r e n e s s . . . . . , . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . , . .2 , T h e E y " o f t h eT r a c k e r . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ' . . . . . .3 . T h e M a s t e r T r a c k e r . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ,4 . T h e S c i e n c e a n d A r to f T r a c h n g . . . . . . . . . . . .5 . I n t roduc t i ono Pressu re e leases . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6. Pressure gainst theWal l : Pressure elease tudy#1 . . . . . . . . . . . .7. Changng or MaintainingForward Motion: PressureReleaseStudy#2. . . .B. Roll and Head Posit ion:PressureReleaseStudy#3 .... .. . .....9. Digital PressureReleases:PressureReleaseStudy #4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

10. Lobular PressureReleases:PressureReleaseStudy #5 .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11 .ToeRidgePressureRe leases:PressureRe leaseStudy#6. .12. IndicatorPressureReleases nd Foot Mapping. ... . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . ..13. Soil Person"lity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ., . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .L 4 .E x p e r i m e n t a t i o nn dE x e r c i s e s . . . . . . . . . . . . o . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15 . Fu r the rRe f tnemen tsf the Wa l l S tud ies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1 6 .T r a c k i n g n dL a w E n f o r c e m e n t . . . . . . . . . . . . . , . . . . . . .. . . . . oT h e F i n a l r a c k . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ' . . . . . . , . . . . . , . . , . . . . . . . . . . . .I n d e x r o . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " . . " " " ' r " '

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FOREWORI)by DebbieBrownThe art of trachng hasalwaysbeen associatedwith mystical native peo-ple who would begin at a very young age and continue perfecting their skillthroughout their lives. Many of us spontaneously ry trachng when we seecrystal clear footprints in sand or mud. But if that animal or human goesinto a leaf-covered area or orrto debris-rich ground cover, we immediatelystop trying, assuming he trail is lost. Tracking meansfollowing footprintsthrough any terrain, including acrossa linoleum or wood floor, or on a road,or over e4posed edrock.My husband,Tom Brown, fr., is }nown as"the Tracker" becauseof hisability to follow footprints acrossany terrain. He is not a Native Americanbut, as the tradition dictates, he did start learning the art of trachng at avery young age. He still does tracking, himself, and he teaches everydaypeople to track quite easily n one week. His school,Tom Brown's Trachng,Nature, and Wilderness Survival School, n Asbury, New Jersey,brings peo-ple from all over the world to learn the ancient art.It's amazing how much tracks influence our environment, yet no oneeven notices. M*y mountains are the tracks left by moving glaciers, andan ant leavesa mark on the ground when gathering food. In between thosetwo ertremes there are tracks everywhere. All the bumps, curves, ridges,valleys,peaks,and bulges right under our feet were made by something.They are not always made by the foot of an animal. The wind leaves atrack on a bent-over tree, different marks are left by rain, sunshine, rosts,arid confitions, and so on. Every mound, hill, and crevice has somethingto teach us. The art of trachng is not merely the following of footprints inthe ground, it is the all-encompassingability to be awareand to understandwhy the landscape s the way it is.In order to traclg weather conditions, ime of day, ay of the landscape,and state of mind all have to be considered. Awarenesss the biggest factor,becausewithout it a person s able to follow only the most obvious footprintsin mud or sand.Awareness n this casemeans knowing the environment, not just beingalert when you're in the wilderness.Where do the animals ie down?sleep?eat? When do they eat? What do they like best? What do animals payattention to and what do they ignore? These and many other questionsarejust the beginning of awareness.Think for a minute of every sense hat ahuman body has: sight, smell, taste, hearing, touch, and intuition. All these


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Forewordingredients are part of awareness.n trachng, the ability to be highly awarewill be a geat aid in finding the final track.Tracking is used for many things: getting food when you're hungryfinding lost people, and retracing the life of an animal. Tom can do all ofthese things but it &d not come easily. He spent ten yearsunder the guid-ance of Stalking Wolf, an Apache elder, whom Tom called Grandfather.Grandfatherhad one mission, or Vision, in life-to teach someoneevery-thing he knew of the native peoples of North and South America. Hesearchedfor sxty yearsbefore he found one person who would listen andlearn. In his travels he cdme acrossmany people who were very interestedin what he had to teach, but none stayed with him long enough for him topassalongthe volumes of information he possessed. his missionwasveryimportant to Grandfather. If the information he had was never taught, allthe knowledgeof his peoplewould be lost forever. Enter Tom.At the young age of seven, Tom met Grandfather. The two of themspent everypossiblemom'ent after school,on weekends,and during holidaystogether. It all started with a desire to knap an arrowhead.Tom learnedhow to knap an arrowhead ffrst out of glass, hen chirt, then obsidian, thenstone, then quartzite. Then he learned how to make bone arrowheads.Healso learned the use of each different arrowhead. Grandfather made himmaster each before he could start learning another. Over and over he trieduntil a given type of arrowheadwas beautifiil and correctly done. Until thenthere would be no more teaching. As the years went by, Grandfathet'steaching did not change; Tom alwayshad to master the shll he wasworkingon before he went on to the next. And so it was with each and every shll.Painfi:Ily at ffrst, he would learn every aspectof a shll until he could do'itin anyweatler situation arid under any circumstances.Tom fulfilled Grand-fathefs Vision, and Grandfather started Tom on the path he walks today.Of all the shlls Tom learned, trachng is his favorite. Tom alwaysspeaksof "dirt time," the act of getting on your lnees and studyrng a track forhours at a time. Thousands of hours of "dirt time" were required for Tomto learn to answer questions Grandfather awakenedhim to: What sexwasthe animal? Did it have any injuries? How heavy was it? What time of daydid it pass?Was it nervoris? What was its state of mind? Was it hungry?Had it just eaten? Where was it headed? Was it in a rush to get there?These and countlessother questionsneeded to be answered.Many litde boysdream of meeting a Native American who would teachthem how to hunt with a bow and arrow. But none of those litde boyswasTom. There is something n Tom, an obsession,f you will, that drove him


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Foreu:ordto learn the skills. He had a passionto learn, an unstoppable yearning todiscover the ancient ways and bring them to you and me. He wanted tounlock all the mysteriesof the spiritual world.Today, Tom spends every other week teaching, in hopes that sharingwhat he has learned will stop the abuse and rape of our Earth Mother. Toomany people are destroying the place we all depend upon. The carelessdumping of garbage,the extinction of animal.s, he rampant developmentof wilderness-all this werghsheavy on our minds. In everyclass hat comesthrough, he wishes that eachpersonwill go out and tell others to stop whatthey are doing and understand the Earth beneath us. See he miracles thathappen every day. Watch the sunriseand give thanks. Ufe in societytodayconsists of an hour's drive to a job you hate; an hour's drive home; twominutes with the hds before they go to sleep; dinner, bed, and then do itall over again. just so we can have one more VCR than the next door.neighbor. Unfortunately, many people wait until they are sixty-ffve beforethey ask,"Is there more to [ife?"There is more, and Tom can open the door for you to see t. What'ssilly is that it's so easy and it's right there under your nose.Tom Brown, fr., can give meaning to your life. He can teach you howto love each other; how to respect our home, the Earth; and the reasonweare alive. Most of all, he can teach you how to live free from the bonds ofsociety.You don't need it. He can also eachyou to heal the sick or to ffnda medicinal plant, how to prepare it and what it is used for. The NativeAmericans knew how to use medicinal plants-and it was not a trial anderror process. Tom also teaches tapping into the spiritual realm, whichguides us and helps us understand life. The spiritual realm hasalwaysbeenthe way of the Native Americans. It told them when to migrate, where toffnd food, what water is safe to drink, and how to live in accordancewiththe laws of nature. The laws of nature were the only laws, and if you didnot obey them then you would not suwive, Thus, the only way to absolutelyknow that a medicinal plant would cure your stomach ulcer, for example,was from some other source, a spiritual source. If you believe in yourself,and believe what you feel is the truth, then nature will take care of you.My husbandshows people how to tap into the world of the unseenandeternal. Many consider him a shamann his ability to heal, or to knowwhat'sbothering you and to tgke care of it. However, if there is one term he doesnot like to apply to himself it is shaman.Although he possesseshe abilities,he only considershimseH a signpost, and a tattered one at that. His fingerpoints the way for you. He wishes that no one follows him, for the jagged

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edge has made him bleed very deeply. Above all he is a human and sharesall human &straction and temptation and falls victim as easily as anyonecan.This path he chosecomeswith many sacriffces, ain, and oss.His deepdesire to save our Earth drains the life from him. Yet he goes on, even asthose who doubt him would see him fall; he still tries to reeducate onemore person because hat one person maybe the one to change everything.If you should see hii face on &e TV, teaching the shlls of primitiveman, keep in mind that he is working very hard for people. How can welive in a world without animals,trees, or drinking water?


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THE SCIENCEANDART OF TRACKINC


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INTROD{JCTIONI gew up on the outer edge of a vast wilderness area called the PineBarrens. Back then the pines cameright to the edge of the river, the back-woods were still pristine, some people, called "Pineys," still lived off theland, and the forests remained relatively untraveled. As a child I had buttwo choices for recreation: to head to the distant town where most otherkids hung out or to take to the forests. I chose the latter, for even when Iwas :rsyoung as five, my folks noticed that I preferred playing in the woods

over any toy or sport society could provide. In fact, they have said that mypassionfor wild placesand e4ploration transcendedall other childhood en-deavors.From my earliest recollections remembermy parentsreading ome from nature books or books on Native American people; they said thatI had no interest in any other subject.I can vividly recall playing "Indian," as I used to call it, pretending theforest around my house was my real home. Yet I longed to learn more thanjust the superftcial nformation that books could provide. I wanted more. Iwanted to know how to survive, how to track, how to be aware, and, mostof all, how to be an "In&an." My folks oncetold me that on my Christmaslist when I was ftve yearsold the only item I requested was a book on howto live in the woods with nothing. ]ust like the Native Americans did. I wasconstantlybringng home fowers, leaves,deadanimals, ocks, and all man-ner of things-especially questions. I begged my parents to tell me whatthese strange things were or to ffnd a book that could.Unfortunately, *y folks could not afford to buy these books, and ourlocal librarys limited collection of nature books were of litde local value.By the time I was six, according to my folks, when I prayed before goingto bed at night, I alwaysprayed for a teacher to teach me the ways of thewoods. Someonewho could unravel the many mysteries that I wanted an-swersfor. My father, who had been an avid camper in Scodand,knew litdeof the local plants and animals. My only other teacher was my uncle How-ard, who was a biologist, but his knowledgewas very limited. He knew muchabout the function of things, which was fascinating, but little about thenames of things. Less still about survival, tracking, and being an "Indian"'Certainly most hds loved to play cowboy, Indian, or soldier, but I didnot want to play it, I wanted to live it. There were also very few otherchildren around and their interests were far different from mine. In fact, Iconsidered their interests rather boring. I became my own best friend and


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2 Tns ScrrNcEANDAnr or TnecrrNcIhad no problem entertairiing myself to a point of complete absoqption. Icould spend hours watching ants, never growing tired or bored, always flled

with wonder. Yet with all that I &d, all that I tried to learn and observe,there was a deep frustration growing in me. I knew by heart every bookabout nature and Native Americans that my parents read to me. I prayedoften in desperation. Yet I never let the frustration dampen my passion orwilderness exploration. Even though "my wildern"s" *"r marked off by aninvisible backyard fence tat my dad erected in my mind, it still held mein constantawe. IThat back fence, which didn't exist except in my mind, became thefocusof a game. I askedmy folks to extend the bani'ers everyyear at mybirthday, for good grades n school,or for chorescompleted,and grandestwere the times that my mom or dad would take me far out for a walk. AsI grew older my collecting habits became more and more bizarre. My hn-dergarten career must still be talked about by Mrs. Murry to this day, ifshe is still living. She came. o loathe Show-and-Tell. When other kids werebringing in dolls, models, and other to1n, I brought in my treasures fromnature. I loved showing thb classthese things, retelling of their collectionor capture in vivid detail. At first I had brought in plants and rocks. Myskull collection was met with apprehension. t came to a climax with a snakeand ffnally a dead and rather o&ferous skunk, of which I wasexceptionallyproud. The day of the skunk marked the end of my participation in Show-and-Tell-only two months into the year at that.My reputation must havepreceded me, for when Show-and-Tell beganin the first grade, I was baried from participating with anything found out-side. I then became probably the ffrst environmentalist in my town. Ibrought in old cans,paper, empty oil cans, and other seemingly useless&scards of people.I told the classwhat these hings did to "my woods,"asI called them. The students showed mild disinterest, of course, but myteacher, Mrs. Thompson, was amazed. found out that she was an avidanimal and plant lover as well asbird-watcher. She told my parents that shewas amazedat my sensitivity, especially at the ripe old age of six. When sheshowedup at my house one evening after school I knew I wasprobably indeep trouble, especially with that scary word, sensiti.oity, that she used.Imagine my amtlzementwhbn my folks hugged me after she left.Then one day, just a few months after my seventh birthday, I metStalking Wolf, and myworld changed forever. Stalhng Wolf wasthe grand-father of my "bestest" friend, Rick. Rick shared my interest and passion ornature. Loohng back now I don't think it took but ten minutes for us to


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lntroduction

become best friends, for no one else that I knew sharedmy interest in thewild things. I did not recognize his heritage that first day. Not until heintroduced me to his grandfather, Stalhng Wolf, an Apache elder. When Isaw Grandfather thought I wasdreaming.His dress,his mannerisms, ndeverything about him exudedintense and limidess knowledge. He wasspryand alert, especially for eighty-three yearsold. To me he was the spirit ofthe wilderness and possessed ll the knowledge I could ever hope for.Although he ended up staying more than ten years, Grandfather, asboth Rick and I called Stalhng Wolf, had originally come to our town tovisit only for a month. The friction between his son and him was intense.His son,Rick s father, hated the Native Americans.Being a half-breedbackin the '50swas, n his eyes, he lowest of humiliations,especially onsideringthe state of reservation life back then. Joining the Navy was his way ofpuqdnghis heritage behind him. Neither Rick nor I could understand thisway of thinhng. Rick s mother andhis brother loved Grandfather,but Rick'sfather barely tolerated him, and any time they spoke it was in the harshesttones. Yet Grandfather would always be so hnd and loving to Rick.Rick's father tried to keep Rick out of the woods as much ashe could,yet Rick would always fnd a way to go out with Grandfather and me everyday. I was eventually disliked by Rick s dad too. I was looked upon as a"dumb hick" who had a bad infuence on his son, especiallygiven my de-votion and allegiance toward Grandfather. Yet we managed,never fully un-derstanding the hatred, at least not until we got much older. Even todayany prejudice is beyond my understanding. As Grandfather once said,"When we can stop categorizing people as white, black, red, Proiestant,]ew, man, or woman, and just seepeople,then truly we will have becomecivilized."Grandfather'sknowledgewasastoundingand even now, asI look back,it seems o have been limidess. We could count on several hings withGrandfather's teachings. The ffrst was that he was a "Coyote teacher"; sec-ond, he demanded hard work and passionfor what was taught; third, wehad to show an impassioned need for what he taught; and fourth, he wouldnot teachus anythingnew unlesswe had mastered he old. He also expectedus to practice the old shlls every day. A Coyote teacher is rare indeed inour society, for a Coyote teacher makesyou work for the Inowledge youobtain. Questions are not answered n a straightforward way but rather adirection is pointed out, or another question s asked n order to make ussearch or answers.We had to supply the passion, he intenseneed to know,and the long and grueling practice time needed to perfect the skills.


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i

Tun ScrcxcE ANo Anr op TnecKrNGYet one of the ,fu"gJ I most vividty remember about the way Grand-father taught shlls is that they were always accompaniedwith a parable, or

a story, or even a spiritual concept related to the shll. By f"t *y favoritestories were those of the Scouts.To me, the Scoutswere the deities ofwilderness. am not talhng about the so-calledscoutswho led the army totrack and round up Geroiromo. The Scouts Grandfather referred to wereof a seciet Medicine Socibtywithin the tribal structure. They were simplythe best. They could survi*e easily n the most hostile wilderness, wildernessthat would hll most anyone else. They were the most aware of the tribe,for they were &e eyesand ears of their people.Leading them to the besthunting, gathering, and campinggrounds.Keeping the tribe away rom dan-ger. Most of all, they were the best trackers.The best in the universe,asfar as I wasconcerned.To date, I have never met or even heard ofanyonewho comes close. iThe storiesof the Scoutsbecamemy model for living. Thesewere thebest of the best. They weie mastersof wilderness,who lived in total har-mony with the land. They moved as the shadows,mastering camoufage andstalking to a point of invisibility. They could get right into the middle of anenemy encampment without being observed.They could read the symphonyof movement and sound around them and know what was going on manymiles away. Most of all they could glance at a track and read into the maker'svery soul. To them the track wasnot only a window to the past, an intimateview of the animal or man who made t, but also a meansof keeping hem-selves and their tribe safe. Trachng was their doorway to the universe,where they could know all things through the tracla.Beyond the fact that the Scouts could track acrosssolid rock with ease,their knowledge of trachng went far beyond even the wildest possibilities.The Scouts reffned trachng to an intense science and art. They saw a trackas more than just a lifeless depression n the ground that told little morethan the time of passage,he kind of being who made it, and its weight.Inside each track they saw,an infinite miniature landscape.Hills, valleys,ridges, peaks, domes, and iocks within these tracks were not unlike thelarger geological features found on the grand landscapesand vistas aroundthem. Thus, each feature inside the track was dentified and named,usuallyafter the larger geological eatures found upon the grander landscapes.Eachof these track features was caused by a distinct movement, external or in-ternal, by the maker of the track. I call these miniature landscape eaturespressurereleases,and the Sdouts dentiffed well over five thousand of them.This is not the work of just one Scout, for no one could amassdris


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lntroduc-tionmuch information and detail in a lifetime. Not in several lifetimes. Thesepressure releases are an accumulation of countless generations of knowl-edge. And it is the scienceand art of pressure eleases hat is the subjectof this book. There are only two elders I know of still living who possessthe wisdom of the pressure eleases.Both are past one hundred yearsoldnow. In all the trachng cases have been on throughout the world I havenever met anyone who even had a clue as to the function of thesepressurereleases, ar lessseen hem. Thus if you haveever heard the term pressurereleaseor any of the information contained in this book, then you can safelyassume hat it was taught by me, passedon by Grandfather, and originatedby a vast lineage of Scouts. Even from the onset of his teachings, Grand-father demanded that I learn the pressure releasesexacdy,for I would bethe only one who then possessedhe wisdom. I would then have to pass ton to future generations.My Tracking, Nature, and Wilderness Survival School is now overtwenty yearsold. Part of my ambition during the past twenty yearshas beento passon the knowledgeof the pressure 'eleases. fearedthat if anythingever happenedto me this knowledge, and manyother skills, would be dead.To further ensure that this knowledge lives on I decided to write this book,so that those I will never meet can still share its power. However, thesepressure releasesare not mine. They belong to Grandfather and the manyScoutswho came before him. I am just doing for you what Grandfather didfor me. I am giving you the tools that will open a world of tracking beyondyour wildest dreams and expectations.And thus keeping alive informationthat would be lost forever.


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1. TRACKING AND AWARENESSGrandfather &d not and could not separate the concepts of trackingand awareness. o him, theywere both part of the sameconsciousness. necould not exist or be whole without the other. Awarenesswithout trachngbecame a shallow experience,where no understanding,of the psycheofanimals could be achieved nor, for that matter, could the entire fabric ofnature be comprehended. In fact, lhe awarenessof animals and the lifeforces of dlture would be forever out of reach as well as ncomprehensible.Tracking without awarenessmakesaprison of the trail, where nothing existsoutside the trail itself.The simplest understandingof how trachng enhancesand broadensawareness an be found in the concept of "sign" trachng. Sign trackinginvolves ffnding the elements of a landscape hat, when combined, makeupthe foundation for abundant animal life. These elements are: a rich varietyof vegetation, the availability of thick cover so that an animal feels securethat it can escape ts enemies and raise its young, and ffnally, but not alwaysnecessarily, he presenceof water. Though many animals obtain their waterfrom succulent or dew-soakedbrowse, the presenceof flowing or standingwater will create a teeming biome.Theseattributes combined create a tremendousarea or herbivore ife,and where there are herbivores,there are sure to be carnivores.Theseanimal-rich areas are also marked by the various roadwaysthat are worninto the landscape.The trails, runs, pushdowns,beds, ays, feeding areas,watering areas,escaperoutes, and hides all make up the "signs" foundthroughout theseanimal biomes.(SeeTom Bronsn'sField Cuid,e o NatureObsercationand Tracking for detailed information on sign trachng.) Notall parts of a landscape ontain these ife-sustaining eatures.Grandfatheroncesaid,"I've seenpeople oohng for deer in the middleof the ocean." What he was saying s that unless a person knows how toread landscapeshrough the eyesofa tracker then he has as much chanceof seeingwildlife as ooking for deer in the ocean.Not all parts of a land-scapeare'rich in wildlife. Some areasare better than others and it is bestto look at the land like islands n the sea. t is on the islandsthat the largestconcentration and variety of wildlife will be found, not in the oceansbe-tween.Observe or a moment the elementsof a deep forest. A deep foresthas poor ground cover due to the upper canopy of treetops blochng outthe Sun.And poor ground cover meansvery little diversity in the vegetation


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8 THE ScT;ENCEND Anr or TnecrrNc

and very little cover. So too the middle of a field may contain a greatdiversity of vegetation but very litde cover. That is not to say that theseareasdo not have wildlife, but that wildlife is very limited both in populationsize and in number of species.What we are looking for is the kind of landscape hat sitsbetweenforestand ffeld, or between waterwaysand ffelds. These are the fringe areas, he"islands" of animal life, which contain all of the elements that support avast assortmentof animals.iThis landscape" racking,as Grandfathercalledit, gives the observer the bdge and directs him to where the animals willbe found. This one simple aspectof tracking expands he basic awarenesslevel and makes excursions nto the wild more productive. Tracking thusffrst teachesus to observe he landscape sawhole, then directsus to wherethe geatest animal populations are to be found. Without this basic knowl-edge of landscapesand 'srgn," our travels will be blessedwith very fewanimal sightings. :When we track an animal, we learn much about its life. Each trackbecomesa word and each trail a sentence,a paragraph,or a chapter of ananimal's ife. We know what it eats,where it sleeps,where it hides, andwhen it drinl$ water. We know what it reacts to and what it ignores. Weknow its likes and dislikes, its interactions with other animals,and the verylandscape t lives in and travels through. An animal is an instrument playedby the landscape,and its sweet concerto deffnesboth its speciesand itsindividuality. Simply statedl the more that we know about a particular spe-cies of animal, the better we will seeit physically and spiritually' It is thislnowledge-a practical knorvledge,not found in the dusty mechanicsof afield guide, but in the reality of the living track-that breatesan intimacyand understanding of the animal.

I remember how frustiated I was during the ffrst few months I waswith Grandfather. Rick andil would explore for the better part of a day andfind one or two deer, possiblya lone fox or weasel,and on rare occasionsa turkey or mink. Grandfather would sit in one place and within an hourpoint out a dozen deer,half asmanyfoxes,coundessweasels, kunks,minks,opossums, accoons, urkeys,hawks, owls, and innumerable birds, insects,and reptiles. At ftrst we never ventured to askhim how he could accomplishsuch awareness.Granted, much of his awarenesswas at a spiritual level, butequally asmuch was n how he observed he landscape.t wasn't until our


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Tracking and Ansarenessexasperationand frustration became unbearable tlat we finally asked himhis secret.Rick, Grandfather,and I had been hihng for much of the morning,heading to a distant camp. As was typical on sJch travels, each of us worrldpoint out to the others what animals we saw. On that particular morning,Rick had spotted two deer, Grandfatherhad spotted so many that I lostcount, and I had spottednot a one. fu we nearedour camp I finally couldtake no more and flew into a rage. I knew that Rick's trvo deer had beendumb luck, but Grandfather'ssightingshad transcendedall luck and prob-ability. I wasbeyond frustration and I didn't hesitate to tell Grandfather so.My anger was only overshadowed y my embarrassment ver having seen. nothing. Rick s attitude was not much consolation,as he stood by, smirhngat his success, uiedy rubbing my failure in my face.I asked Grandfather how he could see so many deer while we sawnothing. I evensuggestedhat he had somekind of superhuman isionandhearing.He just gggl"d and said,"Your problem is not that you are watch-ing the land in the wrong way, but that you do not know what land to watch.You do not know where to look and when you do look you look in thewrong place." That statementstartled me because had alwaysassumed,as most people do, that animalscould be found anywhereequally upon thelandscape.That then became the day that Grandfather ftrst combinedawarenesswith tracking. He taught us how to read the "sign" and to seethe islandson the landscape.That too was the ffrst day I saw more thanten deer in an hour; the hour after Grandfather taught us how and whereto look.- As my knowledge of trachng grew I soon discoveredthat not only do.plants inf.uence the animals, dictating what will live in a given area, but sotoo do the animalshave a tremendous mpact on plants.Each dependsonand influences he other. So, not only is an animal an instrumentplayedbythe landscape,but the landscape s an instrument played by the animal.Thus the spheresof animal,plant, and land cometogetherto form a whole.This whole is nature'sfabric of consciousness,here eachbeing, eachel-ement, eachentity is a thread that makesup this grand tapestry of life. Thattapestrycannotbe whole if one thread s missing.Trackingbrought us face-to-face with the spirit-that-moves-through-all-things and the dimensionsbe-yond.To be aware is to understand the interwoven fabric of life, and, tounderstand an individual fiber, we may e4plore t through a track. It is thenthe track that e4pands he awareness, ut so too the awarenessexpands he


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Tracking and Awarenessand its movementsdeep within our own consciousness. e soon ffnd thatour body reacts o these movements.Soon our spirit mingles with that ofthe animal andwe loseour isolated human identity. We become the animal,and a deep spiritual bonding and communicationbegins. We are at oncetrachng the animal and being tracked by ourselves.Our consciousnesse-comes so fused with that of the animal that we lose the concept of the trackand become he movement tself.Our awareness xpands rom the animal we,have become o the land-scape t reacted to and is played by. We feel the influence of all things thatsurroundus and our awareness xpandsrom our consciousnesso the mindof the animal and finally to the very cosmos.We move through the tracksand the tracks move through us. We become, forever, every track we ex-plore and every trail we follow. Each is a mystery in itseH, which also un-locks the mysteries of life. To track, then, is not only to hrow the animalin that point in time, but to touch eternity.In trachng and awareness,hen, there can never be a separation.Onewithout the other is but half a story an incomplete picture, t-husan incom-plete understanding. With tracking we unlock tlie nuances and secrets ofeach animal we follow, eventually knowing that animal like a brother or asister. The more we know, the more we see that animal, the more webecome.Awarenesss evident not only in the number of animalswe see,but in our feeling about their interrelationship with all things around them.A relationship to the grand fabric of consciousnesswe call the spirit-that-moves-through-all-things.It is the track that connectsus to that grand con-sciousness nd expandsus to limitless horizons.

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2, THE EYE OF THE TRACKERTo say that Grandfather observed the world differently from everyoneelse s a severeunderstatement.Certainly hisperceptionson a spiritual evelfar sulpassedeveryone I have ever met or even read about, but equallyremarkablewas his intense level of awarenessand observationon aphysicallevel. Even what the fictitious SherlockHolmes or the highly technicalandscientiffcFBI crime sceneanallnts ind pale in comparison o what Grand-father would see n a quick glance. Granifather often stated that awarenessis the doorwayto the spirit, and I believe he felt that before passing hroughthat doorwayone had to be ertremely aware on a physical evel first. I knowthat Grandfather demandedof me a high level of physical awareness eforehe would even venture lessonsnto the spirit realm. So ntegral to the spir-itual domainswas this intense evel of physicalawarenesshat Grandfathertold us that the best way to identi$ua spiritual fraud was to determine howaware he or she was on a physical level. Lack of awarenesson a physicallevel was tantamount to no spiritual ability.As I discussedn the last chapter, o Grandfather,awareness nd track-ing were one and the samething. One could not exist without the other.The more one could read the tracls, signs, and the infinite variety of otlermessagesrom the landscape,he more aware of the whole one would be-come. Often, to push our awarenesso a higher level, Grandfatherwouldtake us deeper into the track and the tracking philosophy. This trackingphilosophy aimed to develop the "eye of the tracker," as he called it, whichwas an intense way of loohng at and understanding the land. To have the"eye of the tracker" was to glean immense amounts of information fromthe land with just a quick glance. To the uninitiated that ability can seemmiraculous.We were introduced to the concepts and philosophy of the "eye of thetracker" through two simplequestions: What happenedhere?" and'Whatis this telling me?" Grandfather usedthesequestions o begin our journeyinto the p-rofound state of awarenesshat was the hallmark of the "eye ofthe tracker.'?Wherever we e4plored,wherever we went, we were to holdthese questions oremost in our minds. It was not limited to the tracksprinted on the ground but extended far beyond into the grand world ofcreation. In fact, the tracksthat we found on the ground were just a smallpart of the answers.My first encounter with these questions and the "eye of the tracker"

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L4 THu ScreNcE AND Anr or TnecxrNc

did not come in the form iof " ,pok"r, lesson,but in an exampleset forthby Grandfather.We were camped in an area of the Pine Barrens that was new to us.After Rick and I prepared our primitive camp and built our shelters wewent exploring, a journey that took the rest of the day and evening' Wetraveled far, trying to takerin everything we could. we followed one trackafter another, determined inot to return until we knew the new area well.Our thirst for adventure,excitement,and explorationwas nsatiableand thisnew part of the Pine Barrbns was a limitless supply of spiritual water forour thirsting souls.Only thb onsetof darkness, unger,and the needto talkto Grandfather about our ffnds drew us back to camp. Even with all thosecompelling reasons o return, we tumed back reluctandy'We found Grandfather sitting by the fire worhng on a buckskin pouch'We noticed that at his sidewere his bowl and wooden sPoon.By the looksof it, he had alreadyeaten;We were upset that we had misseddinner; notonly were we starving, but Grandfather's cooking was alwals exceptionallygood.I approachedhim sheepishlyand saidthat I was sorryror being latefor dinner, and ust asshedpishlyaskedhim if there was any more' Grand-father looked at Rick and nie and, lnowing our hunger and disappointment,he giggled to himself. "There is food for you over at the site of the biggrandfather pine," he said ashe motioned to the distant end of camp, andthen went back to worhng on his bag. Rick and I were relieved that wedid not have to forage for dinner and imme&ately headedoff in the direc-tion Grandfather had pointed.When we got to the edge of camp we suddenly realized that there wasno grandfatherpine in thisl area.All of the trees here had been destroyedby ffre a long time ago, and the new forest had no trees over twenty feettall, We did not want to embarrassourselves, o we searched he far endof camp for the grandfather pine, figuring that we had sornehowmissed twhen we ffrst went exploring. Our search proved futile, for there was nopine of the "grandfather" statusanywhereto be found. Still not wanting togive up and return to camp, we searched he entire perimeter and beyondto no avail. We were forced to return to Grandfather empty-handed.We slipped into'camp,and sat by the ftre, afraid and embarrassedosaya word. Without looking up Grandfather asked us how we had enjoyedour dinner. He knew damnwell that we hadn't found the tree or our dinner.Somewhere n all of this, I thought, there had to be a lesson.Rick ffnallyspokeup and admitted that we could not ffnd the grandfather tree. Grand;father only giggled. I becamea litde frustrated with his gameand, spurred


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The Eyn of the Tracker 15by hunger, I told him that there was no gandfather tree. That the area hadbeen destroyedmanyyearsago and only smaller trees surroundedthe camp.Wi&out a word, Grandfather stood and began to walk to the far end ofcamp, motioning us to follow. I worried all the way &at somehowwe hadmissedthe old pine and we would never live down the failure.Grandfather led us a short way into the forest then abruptly stopped.Turning to us, he asked,"What are we standing in?"I answeredhim quicldy and conftdently. "A small clearing!"He then asked, "What is strange about these small trees around theclearing?" We looked for a long time but said nothing. I couldn't understandwhat he was getting at or what he wanted us to see. Finally, and almost byaceident, I noticed that none of the small pine trees around the clearinghad branches on the side facing the clearing. Instead, all the branches,except for the uppermost, faced away from the clearing. I told Grandfatherabout my observation and in the moonlight I could see him smile, appar-endy satisffedwith my answer. He then proceeded to walk back to camp.I was bafifledand asked him about the grandfather pine. He smiled andsaid, You already old me where the old tree is, now ffnd your food."'I did not!" I said, now rather frustratedwith this game of his.'IMhy do you think there are no lower branches facing the clearing onthese smallerpines?"he askedseriously. thought for a moment then said,"They were blocked from the sun so they did not grow out on that side.""And what blocked them from the sun?" The answer had now becomepainfully obvious. "The grandfather pins!" I shouted, and we ran to thecenter of the clearing. There on the ground was our dinner, just as Grand-father had said it would be, at the site of the old grandfather pine.Grandfather wandered off to camp and we stood there feasting on ourdinner in silence, gazmgup into the trees that surrounded the clearing.Upon our return to camp, Grandfather sat us down and said, "The clearingand the small trees are tracks, just like the tracks of animals and man im-printed in the earth. Like all tracks, these little trees are concentric rings,telling of things that are around them now and things that infuenced themin the past. ]ust as the scarson the pines tell you of past ffres, now thegrowth of the trees tells you even more. It tells you of an old pine that longsince passed nto the spirit world and is now the dust of the earth. All plants,all landscapes,all thugr then are tracks. We must also look beyond theobviousand askourselves,What hashappenedhere?'or'What is this tellingme?"' That was the very ffrst time we heard those questions.Questions


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16 THs AND Anr op TnecKINGthat would follow us the rest of our lives. It was the beginning of ourlearning to seewith the "eye of the tracker.'From that day on, Rick and I began to see trachng differently. All ofcreation becamea track, Everything on the landscapecried out to us, givirigus clues to its mysteriesand secrets,hidden to even the few that venturedinto the woods. Grandfather continually asked us questionswhenever wewalked. Questions like, "What is this plant telling you about the soil?" or"\Mhy is this tree growing in this way?" or "Why is there a small hill here?"His questionswere designednot only to make us think and to searchthelandscape on a deeper level, but alsoto ensure that those questionswouldremain paramount in oulconsciousnesswhether he was with us or not.When we began to cibseniethe world with that kind of questioningmind, all of nature presented an exciting mystery.And where there is mys-tery there is alwaysadventure.The countlessmysteriesandsubsequent-ad-ventures that we now realized could be found throughout the surroundinglandscapemade us want to examineall around us. We wanted to integratethe queitioning awarenessnto our everydayactivities, even though that day*" *r" confined to the areaof the camp. It made no difference to us howwell we thought we knew an area, for there were always new things todiscover,new depths to e4plore.Nothing would ever again seemcommon-place.M*y months after Glandfather first taught us the lessonof the grand-father pine, thereby intrciducing questioning awareness o our everydaythinking, he took us into ariotherworld of awareness-by focusingour ques-tioning awarenesson man.,Wi were hiking a well-worn hunters' path near the ed$e of the PineBarrens when Grandfather suddenly sat down alongsidethe trail. Withouthesitation, especiallybecausewe were tired from the trek, we sat down also.Grandfather picked up a c'rushedcigarette butt and held it up to us. "Dida man or a woman put ouf this cigarette?" he asked' "Were they right- orleft-handed? What emotiotial ttate were they in when they put it out? Howstrong were they?" As the questionscontinued, our headsreeled with over-load and disbelief.Without waiting for a responsehe stood and walked to a nearby treewhere he pointed to a cut limb. "Was this cut with a knife, machete, saw,&\e, or hatchet? How sharpwas the cutting implement? Was it a man or awoman who did the cuttin!? How tall were they? How strong were they?Were they right- or left-handed?" Expecting no resPonse,he pointed to adiscardedcan on the gto,tnd. 'IMas this dropped or thrown down?was the


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The EAn of the Tracker L7person moving when it was dropped or thrown? If thrown, then fromwherg?_How strong was the person who drank from this can and how longago did it end up here?" Again the barrage of questions seemed imitlesianj gverwhelming. He ffnally pointed to the very trail we walked upon andasked, was this trail cut in or worn intq the earth?How long has t beena trail and what drew people to create a trail here and not ovei there? Howfrequently is jt used and what is the seasont is most used in?" so manyquestionsand we had no answers,but I don't think Grandfathere4pectedany.It was obvious what Grandfather was trying to tell us. The actions ofpeople are important too and we should not overlookthem with our new-found questioningawareness. e knew we had a lot of work aheadof us,the kind of close obsewationwork that nature presented,only this timewith the human animal. Rick and I spent the next severalweeks watchingpeople put out cigarette butts, discard cans, hrow down garbage,cut trees,brush, limbs, and lawns.Peoplebecameanothermajor sourceof study to' us and we applied the samevigorous scrutiny to that study as we usedwiththe natural world. Like nature, the rvorld of humanhnd and its actionswasnot only a source of fascination but filled with mysteries that had to besolved. t was not as adventurous, hough, as the explorationof the naturalhauntsof creation.several months after he initially asked us about the cigarette butt,Grandfather and I were walhng the same old hunters'trail when I sat downalong the trail. Grandfather sat down also,air inquisitive look on his face. Ipi"k"q up a &scarded cigarette butt. "This wasput out by a man who wasrighrhanded and quite strong, asyou can see by the finger dents and over-crushedpaper-ends.The manwasprobablywrappeddeep n thought aboutother things, for he used more time than was necessaryo crush the butt,which is indicativeof a thoughdul stateof consciousness."gesturedat thetrail and added,"This trail hasbeen,worn nto the ground and not plowed,for there is no berm along the sides. nstead, he irail is deeper than thesurroundinglandscape. t was originally a well-useddeer trai! judging byhow it winds through and interacts with the landscape.A hail createdsolelyby man is straighter."

I then pointed to the cut limb that Grandfather had pointed out monthsearlier. "Righrhanded teenageboy, using a dull saw.He has ittle experi-ence with cutting of any sort and the limb was almost out of his reach,judging from the sloppinessand changing anglesof the cut. These anglesdepict someonestan&ng on tiptoes and frequently losinghrs balance.He


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18 THe Scrnxcn ANp Anr or TnICKING

is also quite weak for a teenager and probably doesn't engagg in muchphysical activity. Though, I still cannot ffgure out why he cut the limb inthe first place."Graridfather smiled a'grand smile of approval and pride,at what I haddone. "He was using it asa way to mark the trail so he would not get lost,"he explained. As you can'see ar up ahead,more limbs havebeen cut, andtreesilazed to heip him find his way back out." We both laughed ong andhard with joy at my success.Yet my i"rrottr with the human animal and nature did not end there.Questioning awarenessed to experimentation

and acute observation.Rickand I would spend houri throwing cans to various heights, from variousangles,and at 'rr"rionr spetids.We then went over and sawwhat markstheylefl We watched people secretly, not only in the woods but going abouttheir daily lives in the confines of society. We watched the games theyplayed, wlat they observedand what they didn't. We observedwhat theyieacted to and wlat they missedor overlooked.We watched how they tiedtheir sloes, combed their, hair, what clothing they wore in what weather,and the wear marks on clcithing causedby various professions.We watchedtheir tracl


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TheEALof the Tracker 19fencepost,and where an old skunk emerged rom under the barn. This isnot to mentionthe innumerablemice,birds,and nsectsand coundess thermysteriesobservedand solved.Yet this observations done before I get tothe lecture hall without hesitation or breaking my stride. All is gathered ata glance through the "eye of the tracker."This is the same evel of understanding and awareness hat all trackersmust achieve n order to become"master" trackers.They must develop hatquestioning awareness, ollowing mystery after mystery until all secrets arerevealed. The mind must be trained to penetrate the obvious and reachdeep into the intricate levels of awareness. here is not a moment in theday, whether in nature or the city, that the questions "What happenedhere?" and "What is this telling me?" are not foremost on my mind. Mastertrackers do not look at life, nature, or anything, for that matter, superficially.Everywhere there are mysteries to be solved and the land calls out withconcentric rings telegraphing he presentand the past.Master trackersarenever satisffed with the way that even the most accomplished naturalistviews the world. We must penetratebeyond even intense awareness ndsee the world as Grandfather saw it. Only then can we hope to fuse ourconsciousnesswith that of the natural world and beyond, to that of thespirit.


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3. THE MASTERTRACKERTo Grandfather'smind there were just two fires of trackers, hosehecalled"typical" or "common" trackersand thosehe called"master" trackers.He was very quick to point out the difference in these two approaches otrachng and made it very clear to us that he intended to teach us to bemaster trackers. Common trackers, he told us, followed a string of lifelessdepressions n the ground to get to an animal. They could tell very litdeabout a track other than the relative age of the imprint and the approximate

size of the animal. They frequently lost the trail, because hey were nevertaught to see tracks in anything other than soft ground. They were alsoveryslow because hey had no concept of the broader,more deman&ng formof trachng.Master trackers,on the other hand, were creaturesof intense detail' Amaster tracker could read the tracksof all animds on any surface,evensolidrock. To the master tracker, the tracks were not just a string of lifelessdepressions strewn across the ground, but a window to an animal's verysoul.Each track contains within its boundariesa miniature topographicmap,a map that reveals ts maker's nnermost secrets.Absorbed n such detailand obsessedwith intense training, the master tracker could track even thesmallest nsect acrosssolid rock surfaces, eep forest litter, and evengrass-lands. It was inconceivable that a master tracker would ever lose a trail,unless hat trail were completely erasedby weathering or destroyedby othpranimals walking over it.The road to becoming a master tracker was fflled with wonder, but itwas also endlessly difffcult and tedious work. So intense was our trainingthat within the ffrst six months we were trachng mice across gravel beds,and before the end of the first year we were tracking ants across stone.Litde did we realize at the time that tlis type of trachng was only thebeginning of what we were yet to learn, of the depths we would eventuallysee. Grandfather told us that in his tribe children younger than ftve couldfollow the tracks of mice across solid rock. By the age of six they couldfollow ants across he samerock. Yet this only qualiffed them to be consid-ered commontrackers.I vividly remember my ffrst lesson into the depths of what a mastertracker observes n a track. This level of observation s incomprehensible toeven he most experiencedrackers oday,but commonplaceo the childrenof Grandfather's tribe. At the time, Rick and I were attempting to track

2T


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Trrn ScrnNCE ANo Anr op TnACKTNG

ants ants acrossa dry gravelbed.We could see he ants'trackson the outerperimeter of that gravel bed easily becausea ffne coating of dusty soilframed the tracks. This silty dust border was the best of trachng soils,butas soon as he ant trackshit the gravel,we lost them immediately.We triedand tried again o follow numerous'ant rails into the gravel,but could notfind even one single printi For hours we kept up this fruitless struggle tofind the next track. The frustration level became unbearable.We were so intent on our tracking and wrapped up in trying to findthe next track t}at we failed to notice Grandfather watching us. Suddenlyhis voice shattered our concentration and jolted us back to the granderworld outsidethe track. He said,"Do not get so absorbedn the track thatyou loseyour place n the oneness.By limiting your vision to the track,youalso imilyour senses, ndyour awareness oesnot reachbeyond hat track.You are thus imprisoned by the track and limited only to the trail. Nothingelse exists or you outside of your track and you lose consciousnessf thespirit-that-moves-through-all-things. You then only understand nature infragments and never fully comprehend the larger realms of the universe.By fragmentation and absorption in a single track, you diminish your track-ing ability. All tracks should be viewed as concentric rings, influenced andinfuencing the worlds beyond. A track is the beginning and the ending ofall concentric rings. Vary thbn your vision from the tracks and stay consciousof the worlds beyond."Grandfatherwas right. ,Somany times before we had made that samemistake, and the track had'become a vacuum,sucking n and imprisoningour consciousness.y not loohng from the track to the largerworld beyond,we missedwhat wasgoing on and fragmented he whole; thus, we hinderedour tracking abilities. Yet, it wasvery hard for me not to become absorbedin the track, to remain aware of everything else. After all, trachng was myobsession.My passion or the mystery of the track would rarely let myawarenessgo beyond the boundaries of the track. I had made that mistakeover and over without fail. Even the embarrassmentof having Grandfatherwalk right up on me was not enough to keep me from my consuming trackobsession. just could not let go and expand, he way Grandfatherwantedme to.

Without saFng another word about my absolption,Grandfather said,"Look at the gravel rocks and tell me what you see." I looked close andhard at the stones but did ilot have a clue as to what Grandfather wantedme to see. tried to venture a guessabout the stonesbeing pusheddownin their beds. But since we were trachng ants I knew &at just could not


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The Master Tracker 23be. Exasperated, askedGrandfatherwhat he wantedme to see.He simplysaid,"Look what is on the gravelrocks,not at the gravel ocks"'I searchedagain, determined not to fail, but again I could not understand what hewanted. Just as I was about to give up I suddenly understood what he wassaFng. "Dust and grit particlesare covering the rocks!" I was amazedatmy own statement becauseI never thought about it before it was out ofmy mouth.Grandfatherchuckled at my astonishedexpression.lMhat is it aboutsmall areasof the dust that is different from the whole?" Looking closelyat what first appeared o be an evencoatingof dust, I soon ound that smallareaswere dented into the dust, thus flattening it completely. The areaswere only the size that the point of a pin would make,but they were clear,especiallywhen the rock was held between myself and the sun.- I looked at Grandfather and said, '\Mhy, the dust is flattened in littleplacesall along th" top of the rock!""Yes, Grandson," Grandfather said, "Those are the tracks of the antsyou have been trying to follow." I was amazedbeyondwords. I had trackedan ant acrossa gravel rock and hadn't realized that I was doing it. I was sointerested n the fattened dust that I didn't realizedthat it had been flat-tened by ant feet.Grandfather then said, "If you are looking at the fatness of dust, youare looking many times too large. To a master tracker, flattened dust is amajor.track ndicator.You must learn now to look smaller, o a level that isoui of your grasp right now," Grandfather walked away and I lay on thegroundin silence.The near microscopic evel of dustwas he smallest hadever dreamedof loohng. I could not imagineworldsbeyond hat tiny level'Without hesitation or ashng Grandfather for more, I tracked ants acrossthe gravel rocls for the rest of the day.With eachsuccessfulrail completed,the tacks grew clearer, until I reachedthe point where I cameto view thedust flatness as a major track. As the setting sun put an end to my anttracking for the day I now could imagine a world smaller than the dustdepressions, ut I had no idea as to how to get there.As Grandfather had said, the fattened dust was indeed a major trackindicator, a huge sign for a master tracker. Rick and I learned in the fol-lowing months to look for slight discolorations n rocks,vegetation,or forestlitter that would indicate pressure from an animal foot, thus a track. Wekept pushing ourselves o attain infinitely smaller levelsof track observation.However, Glandfather would never permit us to use a magnifying glass;hesaid it would become a self-limiting crutch. We had to train our eyesto


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24 THs ScrcNrcEANo Anr on' TnncKrNGknow not only what to locik at, but how to see. We varied the light sources,changed our angles, lookbd high and low, and used all manner of otheractions to enhance even the smallesttrack. We had become creaturesthatthrived on intensedetail.This attention to minute detail was both a blessingand a curse. I be-came more and more absorbed n the track to the exclusion of everythingelse.Tracksbecamea prison for my a\Marenessnd I missedso much else.Litde did I realve that by being absorbedin the track, I was missing thegreater picture of what trachng was all about. No matter how many timesGrandfather warned me, I could not free myself of certain tracks. Whenthere was an intense myitery to be solved or a deeper level to look, Idisappeared into the track. Many times I would be tracking Grandfatherand passright by him without noticing as he stood by watching me. Oncewhen I was trachng a deer I took a break to stretch and, loohng behindme, saw that the deer had crossedthe trail a few feet awav from me. Noamount of warning or humiliation could free me totally from my passionfor certain tracks. It wasnt until long after Grandfather had gone-on hisffnal walk to the spirit world that I finally learned this lesson.Another time, I was involved in tracking a murder suspectwho wasbelieved to have killed his lbrother, wife, and mother; he had disappearedoff into &e woods after his,car waspulled over by the State Police. For thebetter part of a week, the police searched or him to no avail. The suspecthad been an avid hunter, survivalist,and mercenary.He successfully ludedthe police and presseddeeper nto the woods.There was no doubt in any-one's mind that he could edsilysunrive n the wilderness or a long periodof time, given his training. Rumors about this man's talents abounded.Ru-mors even the police began to believe. By the time I was called into thecase,paranoiawas running deepamong he searchers. ear of the suspect'sability to turn the tables on the trackerswascausing he investigation to fallapart. They were desperateto try something new so they called on me.Though I had successfully racked down severalhundred lost or fugitivepeople by this time in my life and had a considerablereputation among awenforcement agencies,my arrival at lhe scenewas met with the usual skep-ticism. Many of the o{ffcers Could not see how I was going to do any good,especiallysince he suspecthad evadedeven their best bloodhounds.As istypical of the untutored, they just didn't understand tracking. Within anhour of being dropped off in the baclovoodsby a helicopter, I had locatedthe suspect's rail. As I followed him I quickly lost my backup, which is also


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The Master Tracker 25typical on a trachng case. Even people with considerable training have ahard time keeping up with a good tracker.By the third hour of trachng I had closed to within a half hour of thesuspect.It had become clear to me that thir goy was by far not the com-petent woodsman hat he was rumored to be. This is usually he casewithmodern survivalist types. Without his guns and modern technical equip-ment, he wastotally out of place.The only thing that he had on him of anyconsequence as he .38 revolverhe was said o have used o hll hisvictims.Judgrngfrom the tracks, he was hopelessly ost, frightened,-disoriented,h""gw, thirsty, and very tired. This was deftnitely to my advantage, orwithLut my backup it would be &fficult for me to apprehendhim, especiallysince I never carry a gun when I track. This suspectwas also out of hismind with paranoia,which added to the intensity of the tracking situation.Moving very cautiously,now I beganto closethe gap' I could not affordany mistakes,nor could I let him know that he was being followed. As farashe was concernedhe'd escaped he police, and now his greatestenemywas the wilderness.The longer I trackedhim, however, he more compla-cent I became.His trackswere showinghis ineptness n the wilderness na big way. He was a fish out of water and he Inew it. Panicwas beginningto set iri to his mind, causing him to make foolish mistakes. His traclsshowedhim jolting this way and that, reacting to the various noisesof theforest. To him, his only link to sanity was his gun. Without that gun hewould certainly perish. It became his lifeline, and now he held it in frontof him ashe walked ready to shoot anything that moved.Suddenlyhis tracksbeganto do strange hings. I could not figure outwhat was going on in his mind. His blundering panic blurred any rationalexplanation of what was troubling him. In my complacencyover this sus-pect'sability, and ured by the troubling tracks, madea near fatalmistake.I b"""-" absorbedby his trail. I wanted to ftgure out what was going onin his mind. Now, within only five minutes of his position, I lost all senseof time and place. I got down on my hands and knees to study the tracksin an attempito unlock the mystery. t wasnot long beforethe trackbecame. a prison to my awareness. searchedevery facet of the track, lookingforch]es, or thought imprints. Searchingmy mind for similar past tracks hatmight have been like this one in someway.Then, as my eyes ooked into the toe sectionof the bootprint, the intentbecame clear. I had seen this kind of movement and pattern in a trackbefore, though at ftrst I had to search my memory for detail. Finally Iremembered. t was a "reakzalton" print. The suspectat this point knew


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26 THn ScreNcE AND Anr or TnecrrNcIhe was being followed With this shocking enlightenment I clearly heardGrandfather's voice say, Vary your vision!" It was at that precise moment,as my awareness xpandedand complacency anished, hat I felt someonestanding behind me. The rest happened so quickly that still in recollectionit is all a blur. With a nerve-shattering e4plosionfrom the gun, I was shotin the back.If I had been still bent over the track at the time the gun was ffred, Iwould have been shot in the back of the head, which *"r"th" intent. If Ihad come to a full standingposition at that moment, I would have beencrippled from the waist down. But with the spirit of Grandfather's voiceand the sudden "Inner Vision" both telling me that someonewas behindme, I stood and started to turn. The bullet caught me just above he beltline and traveled under my shn like a splinter before exiting neatly. Exceptfor a stinging, burning sensation I was unhurt. Sulprised by *y abruptmovementup from the track, the suspectcould not get off a secondshot.Instead I was on him immediately in thd most vicious display of Apache"wolverine ffghting" that I:can remember.To this day I cany with me that neat litde .38 scar in my back. It hasbecome a constantreminder tliat the secretsheld within the borders of atrack are only a small part of the story. With each track we must keep ourawarenessmoving from the track to the universe and back again. The dayI stoppedbecoming so absorbed n a track was the day that my trachngability grew exponentially. rMaster trackers are creatures of intense detailbut even the most minute idetail must lead to the whole of creation. Theconsciousness f a masterltracker, then, must lead from a grain of siltpressedwithin a track to tlie very horizon and beyond.


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4. THE SCIENICEAND ART OFTRACKINCMany students come to my school feeling that trachng, at leastthe kindof tracking Grandfather taught, is out of reach. They wrongly assume hatit takessome superhumaneyesightand senses eenerthan those of mortalman to reach the deeper levels of trachng they read about in my books.This is just not true. When I say hat trachng is a scienceand art, I don'tmean to imply that it is the hnd of art in which someonehas to be borngifted or talented to obtain excellence.With the proper training and dedi-cation one need not be gifted in arts such as painting, music,poetry, andsculpting to enjoy them. Of course being born with a talent surely helps.But in tracking, I believe that everyone has the innate talent. After all, oneof my best trackers s legally blind and must track solelywith his hands.The art of tracking grows from a passionfor learning that borders onobsession. A love of tracking and the passion for solving mysteries areenough for anyone to reach the deeper levels of trachng. Yet it is not soimportant that you feel that passion mmediately. This is something hatdevelops rom deep within, born from a basic knowledge of trachng at first.Thus, one'spassionand love for trachng will build as one's evel of under-standing and skill grows. Ary*uy, I don't really know what special talent apersoncan be born with to make him or her a greattracker.Tracking, afterall, is embedded n our genes,a part of our heritage. Generationsof ourancestorsused it.in their hunting and gathering ifestyle. Man has held aclub in his hand longer then he has held a pen.Somewhere, ee! insideeveryone,

"r"tir" seedsof passionor trachng.

It is my job to impart the knowledgethat will awaken hat passion.Learningtracking techniques is the same as learning any fine art. The techniques Isharestir the artist within, opening up the right brain, that part of ourselvesthat deals not with linear thought, words, or mathematics, but rather withpatterns, colors, textures, and other artistic endeavors.One ftnds that thetechniquesand theories that help a person paint better, write ftne music,or sculpt are the same techniques that help a person see tracks and trackpatterns better. This is why I refer to trachng as an art.Yet I could also call trachng a philosophy and a deep form of spiritualcommunication.First we enter the world of irachng as science, nwhichwe learn all the cold, hard facts about the track. These basic techniquesmust be understood before any further building can be done. Then, andonly then, can trachng develop into an art, where one begins to see the

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28 .THn ScrcxcE ANp Anr or TnACKII{cbeauty of the tracks. This mastery of the artistic form then leads to themore spiritual aspectsof;trachng. Spiritual trachng is what Grandfatherdeemed he niost important. It is here in the spiritual consciousnessherethe animal comes alive in its tracks. It is here that we fuse our mind withthe animal and feel the animal moving within us. Finally we become thatanimal,moved by its spirit.But the fact remainsithat we must ffrst enter the world of trachngthrough its science. As I stated before, the more one l


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The Scienceand Art of Tracking 29expectedus right from the start to ftnd the passion n ourselves.He was aCoyote teaeher, which is another way of sqmg we learned through &rttime, and lots of it. Most times he would give us just a little hint about atechnique and allow us to go figure it out for ourselves. When we finallyreached an unbearable level of frustration and failure, he would finish thelesson and give us the rest of the answer. He was always there for us,gutding, nurturing, and teaching. Nevertheless, t was still hard work andlong hours. He expectednothing less. f we were ever to show disinterest,complacency,or lack of passion,he would just not teach us again.We hadto want it badly and show him our desire to learn through our doggeddetermination.Within the conff.nes f this book, I do not havethe luxury to be a Coyoteteacher. Everything must be spelled out precisely and simplified. Thus,many of the lessons hat we had to learn the hard way, through dirt time,must be bypassed nd the ftnal answersgiven mmediately. can't be thereto see f you are impassionedand determinedto reach racking excellence.You have to find it within yourseH hrough the knowledge set forth in thisbook. In the ffnal analysisyou must put in the dirt time and, though it willnot take as much time as it did for me, dirt time is still a reality. Only youcan develop that determination and drive, that passion,and that commit-ment to excellence. I can only give you the tools you need to learn. Therest is up to you.One of the most powerfirl lessonsGrandfather ever taught me con-cerning determination and dirt time came only a few weeks after I metGrandfather, and the impact of that lesson asted a lifetime. Grandfather,Rick, and I had traveled to an entirely new area to camp, an area the likesof which we had never seenbefore. Here the forest met huge estuaries-the place was overflowing with wildlife and plant life in great diversity. Itbeckonedus to e4ploreand promised an endless ourceofadventure. Soonafter our arrival I spotted a mink track and went to investigate. I knewthat it was a mink track but I did not know how old it was. I asked Grand-father to come look at the track and I askedhim how long ago the minkhad made t.Grandfather looked up from the track and spotted a deer walking alongthe tree line in the distance. He motioned to me to follow, obviously notanswering my question about the mink, or possibly, I thought, forgettingabout it completely. We arrived at the fresh deer tracks and Grandfatherled me to one in particular. He instructed me to lie down beside the track.I did, and I found that it was in the same ype of soil aswas the mink track.


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30 THe ScTSNICE No Anr op TnACKINGGrandfather then said, 'iThi, t u"k will teach you the age of the minktracks." He then walked back to camp, eaving me confusedas to how thistrack was going to teach ine about the age of the mink track.I lay on my belly for the better part of two hours,papng more attentionto what was going on in the camp than to the deer track. I desperatelywanted to go out and spend the day exploring the new area around campandwasbeginning to feel imprisoned by the track. I grew resdessand angry.I began to feel that this was some sort of punishment, Grandfather's wayof getting rid of me and my questionsfor a while ashe went out and hadfnn e*plo.ir,g and having radventureswith Rick. A cloud of jealousy beganto overtake me, for Rick,was still free to do what he wanted and I wasfeeling very left out. I glanced back at the deer track and could not seewhat Grandfather wanted me to see.It looked as fresh asever. Two hourswas ong enoughfor this, I thought, and headedback to camp.I found Grandfa&er sitting near camp by the same mink track I hadaskedhim about. As I approached I could sense that Grandfather was alitde &sappointedwith me. Before I could say a word to him, he pointeddown to the mink track and asked,"How old is this track?" Of course I hadno idea and, after squirming a bit, I whispered sullenly, "I don't know."Grandfathefs stare seemed to pierce my very soul and I could feel hisdispleasure.He finally said, "Apparendy, Grandson, the age of this minktrack is not important to you. I can't teach you any more until you learnthe age of this track and tracks like it. You seemto want things handed toyou without working for them. You want things easy. t is obvious that youdo not love trachng enough."Grandfather solemnlyistood,gatheredhis things, and headed towardthe trail that led back to his own camp, which was many miles away.fustbefore he disappearedfrom sight, he called out to me, "When you lovetracking enough and are willing to dedicate the time, then and only thenwill I teach you. I will teach no more until you prove you want to learn, nomatter what the hardship." His words cut deep and tears welled up in myeyesas I watched him disappear down the distant trail. Rick was nowhereto be found and I felt so alone and hurt. I did l


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The Scienceand Art of Tracking 31closeby so that I could watch the track degrade through the evening.Mag-ically, I became absorbed by this grain-by-grain deterioration of the track.The track became a miniature mandalla hat absorbedmy consciousness.Time flew by and my enthusiasmgrew exponentially. I watched that trackfor hours into the night. Intermittently I built up the fire and hurried backto the track. I was so interested in what I was doing that I forgot to eat oreven drink. I paid no attention to the chill of the night, the dew that settledon my back and egs,or the cold that seepgdnto my body. Not even Rick'senthusiastic urging that we go for a night hike could tear me away rom thetrack.

I awoke to a brilliant dawn, frozen to the core, wet from dew, andbewildered about where I was. I looked back at the track, which had nowgone through significant changes-changes that came close to the level ofdeterioration I'd seen in the mink track. I was riveted again to the track,ignoring both hunger and the cold that wracked my body. Slowly, the deertrack beganto wilt as dew dried from its walls and seemed o melt into thefloor. The sun was well up in the sky when the track ffnally reached thesame evel of degradation and patina as the mink's had been when I foundit the day before. I jumped to my feet in triumph, unable to contain myenthusiasm and yelling out that the mink track was made exactly a daybefore the deer track, within the samehour. I called out to everythingandno one.Suddenly heard Grandfather'svoice behind me saying, Now you areready to learnl" I turned with a jolt, shockedby the sudden appearance fGrandfather. "You are only off by a litde, Grandson," he continued. "Youforget that your fire accelerated he dqo"g processbecause t was a litde'close to the track. But now you know how old the mink track is, wisdomthat can't be taught by anyone, exceptby the track itself. As with so manyother tracking lessons,no one can really teach you the aging processoftracks. All it takes to learn then is a love of tracking and a determination tofind out for yourself,no matter how much time it takes."He paused or along moment then said,"Let's go now and explore."I was both elated and relieved by what Grandfather had said. Our dayof exploration was an endlessstring of exciting adventures,yet it paled incomparisonto what the track had taught me. An understandingof the agingprocesshad developedand I began o seeall the tracks encountered hatday in a new light. I could determine the age of many of lhose tracks towithin a few hours-much to the annoyanceof Rick, who could not. Yet,even with that success, knew that I had a long, hard road aheadof me. I


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IiIIiScmxce2 THs AND Anr op TnacKING

had much to learn about aging tracks, but I learned all I needed to knowabout what Grandfatherexpectedof me. He e4pecteda passion hat bor-dered on obsession or trachng, an intense nterest that even transcendeda love of tracking.There is no replacement for dirt time. Certainly, when you are ffnishedwith this book, with hardly any dirt time at all, you will be a great tracker.A deeper understanding of the track and a new way of looking at tracks willbe yours. But if you are to become an awesome racker, then you havetoput in the dirt time. All I can do is give you the tools and skills necessaryto makeyour dirt time more productive. I cannot give you the passion, helove, or the obsessiont takes o becomean awesome racker. Only you cando that. Yet I am conftdent that the more you learn about trachng *a tft"more you see through the l"eye of the tracker," the more you will seek thedirt time. Tracking is a science, an art and a spiritual journey, a journeythat you can only take wheinyou commit yourseH o the track.


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5, INTRODUCTIONTO PRtrSSURERELEASESBefore we enter into a physicaldefinition and the mechanicsof pressure

releases,et's first consider the spiritual concept of trachng. As I statedearlier, trachng is not merely the act of following lifeless depressionsacrossthe ground. Nor is it simply a means o follow or find game.To the ApacheScouts, his basic tracking concept was far too limited. It was not even thebeginning. Tracking was their window to the wilderness and they tmstedthis skill with their very lives. Their shll as trackerswas developedto sucha high degree that it far surpassedhat of the best trackersfound throughoutthe world. To the Scout, trachng was far more than the physical act offollowiag tracks.It was not only a scienceand art,.but a philosophyuntoitself.I remember once hearing Grandfather say hat the best trackers in theworld were the Scouts. In fact, in his mind, no other culture of trackerscameclose.Since had never been out of the Pine Barrensof New fersey,and had nothing to compare this statementto, I considered his to be abold boast on his part. It wasn't until my reputation as a tracker grew, andI began to track lost people and criminals throughout the world, that Irealized that Grandfather had been right. In my nearly sixhundred trachngcases,having worked with people reputed to be the best trackers in theworld, I soon realized that these trackershad no concept of the intensedetail and nuances that Grandfather demanded we see in each track' Infact, most of the best trackers have met could hardly comPare o my mostbasic Standard class gradtiate'sability.

Even in most rudimentary.application f their tracking techniques, heScouts ranscendedeveryoneelse'sability. The Apacheswere a people ofconstant migration, which took them to all manner of landscapes,weatherconditions,soils,and unique topography.They would move from desert omesas, o mountains, o forests, o alpine zones, o roclcy soils, and eveninto the plains. They learned to master the tracking of all the landscapesthey encountered, even when that landscapewas solid rock. Their ability totrack in any environment and weather condition pushed them far beyondthe normal limitations of tracking and into a separatereality. Equally so,their awareness ad also to be pushed to such a height that it sulpassedeveryoneelse's.After all, trachn[ and awarenesswere considered by Grand-father to be one and the same.Thus, the basic tracking methods of the Scoutswere not confined to

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34 THe ScreNCE ANp Anr op TnecKrNGone single area or topography, as it was with so many other tribesthroughout the world. Their foundation became very broad and all-encompassing.To the Sciruts, he safety and survival of their people wasclosely linked to their tracking and awarenessability. In fact, it was thesingle most important factor in the Scout'sphysical life. Yes, they had tolearn tracking for practice purposes and out of necessity,but soon thetrachng concepts began a metamorphosis that transcended the merephysical applications. Tracking became, for many, a deeply religious andphilosophical experiencer These philosophic overtones became evidentto me right from the beginning. Grandfather would so often relate atracking technique to an ancient Apache parable or a spiritual teaching.In fact, most of the training of the ancient Scouts revolved around thesacrednessof the track ahd its deep religious overtones.To the Scout,tracks were the first communication received from the Earth. The trackbecame the very voice of the Earth.f remember Grandfather saFng, "Before you can hear the voicesofEarth Mother and her animals,you first must listen to the voice of thetracks. It is in the tracks that we first learn to communicate with the animals,not only in a broad sense,rbuteven n intimate detail.To ignore the trackis to ignore the first faint voice of creation, and thus we can never hear orfi-rllyunderstand he grandermessagesf wilderness.So then, we ffrst mustlearn the simple language of the tracks, which teachesus to hear the voiceof &e animal, and soon, through the voice of the animal, we begin to hearthe voice of the Earth." As a child I beganto understand his basic com-munication almost from the beginning. Through the languageof the track,I began to understand he ianimal, ts habits, ts movementsplayed out onthe landscape,ts fears, and eventually ts thoughts. t was not long beforeI lnew the animal I tracked like a brother, and not long after our mindsfused so that I could feel the animal moving inside of me. I became theanimal I tracked,and we were one.Looking objectively at how closelytied tracking is to both necessityanddeep spiritual conviction, one can clearly begin to see the next logical step,the ultimate evolution in tr

science and art of tracking

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