Some Stalking Conduct, and What Not To Do While Stalking

This week we began with a hunt. We were to stalk a large mammal close enough to get a full-frame photo (preferably without the use of zoom) and then stalk away, all without being seen.

We partnered up, and began by making offerings to the land. We asked permission to bother the animals for the sake of building connections and understanding, and waited for an answer. Everyone seemed to feel good about the reply they received, so each pair began moving out.



My partner and I decided to use "body radar" to find a large mammal. We started with a sense meditation and then, closing our eyes, we each pointed in the direction we felt drawn toward. Opening our eyes, we found ourselves both pointing dead East. We followed our pointing fingers.

On the way, we decided to take Gilbert Walking Bull's advice on how to move on the land, walking well apart and abreast of each other. Each kept the other in our peripheral vision, so that if one stopped, ducked, or hid, the other would know to do so without either of us having to vocalize. If we had to, we could catch each other's attention with bird calls, and communicate with hand signals.



We walked using Akamba tracker form. To begin, we Fox-walked a few steps while looking ahead and using Owl Eyes. To Fox-walk, relax and walk evenly, keeping your feet light on the earth, keeping your weight back until your foot is placed, then rolling forward. To practice Owl Eyes, blur your eyes or look at the distant horizon, and pay attention to the edges of your vision without moving your eyes in their sockets. We Fox-walked some steps forward, then when our Owl Eyes revealed something of interest we stopped, and only then would we turn our heads to look left, right, behind, above, and finally down at any tracks. Then we would resume Owl Eyes and continue walking on our path.



We kept a special watch out for birds on the way. Song sparrows, wrentits, and white crowned sparrows occupied every bush lupine and coyotebrush. We were careful to see them before they became alarmed, and to walk around their personal space. Most of them simply eyed us and went about their business. At one point, a sparrow seemed to scream, his high thin seet-seet-seet! streaking across the sky as he dove for cover in brushy shadows. The nearby wrentits stopped calling and dove into their bushes too. All the little brown birds were gone from their bushtop perches. I looked up in the silence that followed, and a falcon's silhouette swooped over the ridgetop and past the face of the sun. (This image is my artist's rendition of the event, using cobbled-together images from Wikimedia. I'm not that fast with the camera.)

As we travelled, we became acutely aware that this land belonged to the large mammals we stalked. Their tracks, scat, and scent were everywhere. We hoped that by moving in these ways we could find them before they knew about us, despite their superior senses and knowledge of the land. We hoped that we could show our respect to these animals by finding them without disturbing them.



What we found, we had no trouble leaving in peace. It rested the way it had died. An elk carcass, whole, a drum of hide stretched over bones. Nothing had disturbed it, even though coyotes, bobcats, weasels, skunks, ravens, vultures, and other carnivores were well-known to live here. Why had the coyotes left it whole?



We continued on, and cresting the ridge we found an entire herd of elk in the distance. Closer, unseen until now, were a group of mothers and calves feeding in a sheltered valley. The elk were everywhere.



Further down the hill we finally spied our targets. I stalked our quarry, hunched double and fox walking in fits and starts, resting behind brush and tall grass, freezing midstep and moving only with the wind. I remembered a heron stalking gophers in a field, and felt the focus of that hunting bird. Through it all my quarry lay in the sun, relaxed and oblivious. I stalked closer and closer, only to break my internal silence with a glance at my watch. We had 15 minutes left to get back to the cars. As soon as I remembered the time, my quarry raised his head and looked straight at me. I retreated, no photo to show for my hours-long stalk.