Tracking Curiosity: From Facebook Feeds to Forest Floors
- Mar 27
- 3 min read

Were you on a laptop-break stroll or pausing to de-layer on a cross-country ski when you noticed a peculiar arrangement of depressions in the mud or snow? After selecting a few of the photos you took, the “posted” button was pushed to a Facebook group. With five depressions in the crusty spring snow, digital chatter erupts with comments: "definitely not a dog,” and "looks like a cougar."
Living throughout the Sea to Sky means wildlife corridors don't just exist "out there"—they run through our back, front, and side yards, as well as overhead. Yet, when faced with a set of tracks, our collective imagination often bypasses the uneventful culprit and jumps straight to the reclusive four-legged mammals of our forests. Why?
The irony is that the most common culprit of the depressed snow is often sleeping at the foot of our beds. . . or more likely, in our beds. We intimately share our lives with domesticated mammals, yet we rarely stop to observe their tracks. Many of us couldn't accurately describe what our own fur-baby’s paw looks like in the mud. By jumping to conclusions, we miss the nuance of the more natural world around us.
To distinguish a "beast" from a "best friend," let’s get curious about the shapes within a track. Generally, canines (dogs, wolves, coyotes) show their claws in their tracks. Their overall prints are typically oval, with a distinct "X-shaped” negative space between the toes and heel pad. Conversely, felines (cougars, bobcats) have retractable claws, so are much less likely to show the small dimples of claw marks. A cougar’s track is rounder, and the heel pad has three distinct lobes at the base, resembling an "M," whereas canines have only two lobes at the base.
Left to Right: domestic cat by @Jclib, bobcat by @Lycanaboss, domestic cat by @Daniel_asmolovskiy. All photos via iNaturalist, CC-BY-NC.
A coyote’s track is a tight, oval-shaped print with a more pointed front end, while a domestic dog’s print is generally wide, with toes splaying outward—a sign of a life lived with pavement, and fuelled by kibble rather than the focused, energy-conserving gait of a wild hunter. However, the “athletes” amongst our domestic canine community can have tracks that more closely resemble their wild canine cousins.
While initially frustrated at some comment sections, I see the digital chatter as a small flame of curiosity awaiting to be stoked. Curiosity is a skill—one that is often sharpest in childhood but, for many, begins to disappear like a footprint in melting snow as we age. Let’s reverse that.
When we see a track and immediately label it "cougar," we stop the chain of curiosity. We stop the brainstorm. But when we ask: "what shapes do I notice," or “what does this remind me of, overall,” and “who could have created this track,” we start to see a series of possible stories unfolding. Even experienced trackers and “ologists” walk away with a mind of questions and potential options rather than a single, certain answer.
With devices of immense computing and broadcast power within constant reach, it’s so easy to shove aside wondering, pondering, and questioning. Curiosity is as simple as inspecting your cat’s toe beans. Do your innately curious brain a favor, and remember, “learning is not the product of teaching, learning is the product of the activity of learners” (John Holt).

Written by: Chloe Van Loon








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