Mud Season — unique to northern states, indecisive weather, sloppy. What’s to love about it?

Everything when thirteen Tuesday Trackers headed out for the final expedition until next winter. And no thin ice went unbroken by this hearty group.

Prints in the snow we found along the way, but most were difficult to discern. In the mud, however, they were magnificent and we kicked ourselves for not thinking to bring some Plaster of Paris for great casts those would have made.

Our tracking efforts were only part of the journey for along the way we were enraptured as we listened to Storyteller Jo Radner share a tale about a water snake, her grandmother, and some visitors to a children’s camp on Kezar Lake . . .

passed through the black spruce peat bog at the Kezar River Reserve on the eastern side and remembered time spent there with GLLT’s former executive director Tom Henderson (I told you, Tom, that you’d be with us and you most certainly were as we felt your spirit and heard your voice among the trees. We decided we need to return in the near future and spend more time getting to know that place–today, it required careful footwork and so we didn’t stay long) . . .

and finally found our way to Kezar River, where the Canada Geese and a couple of ducks awaited our arrival.

While some ice art in a stream that feeds the river drew our attention, we were there to look for evidence of a mammal that frequents the area.

With youngsters among us, our eyes were more eagle than ever, and one of them found the sign we sought. At first sight, it appeared to be lichen on bark, but then our eyes focused and we knew what was before us–river otter scat.

Some was matted as it had disintegrated a bit and only the scales remained, but others were formed in a tubular shape, all filled with fish scales, bones, and crayfish parts.

We rejoiced as we’d found a latrine site, a spot the otter returned to as a place to defecate, urinate and roll around in what’s known as a brown-out. It all provided information that we appreciated but meant even more to others of its own kind. “Hi, my name is Otty, I’m good looking and would be happy to meet up for a cup of fish stew. You available?”

In the same area, we noted slides leading to the water and imagined the otters movement. And then some of our crew channeled their own inner otter and headed down to the feeder stream where the mud was difficult to resist.

Mud! Worth showing off.

And then the joy of cleaning off by stepping into the river.

Mud season–celebrated with mud angels.