While minks are not actually vaporous spirits, they are ghost-like. They move along hidden wetland paths and rarely show themsleves. A mink sighting usually consists of little more than a chocolate brown flash. Such an encounter barely allows enough time to say, or think, “look, there’s a min…,” before the session is concluded. These elusive creatures also happen to be habitual wanderers who patrol large territories. Males can lay claim to several thousands of wetland acres or several miles of stream bank.  Females are more homebound, but 40 acre claims are not unusual for them.  Intercepting either sex at any single location within their stomping ground is therefore reduced to sheer chance.

  The usual methods for a curious naturalist to determine if mink are about is to hang around a wetland, in order to increase your chances of seeing one, or look for their tracks. By employing the first method I have been fortunate in seeing quite a few minks in the past few years.  Most of my glimpses have been just that – glimpses – but this past summer I was able to watch a nervous young animal pick away at the remains of a roadkill (see here & here). The slender figure eventually detected my presence and evaporated into the underbrush.

  Recently, I came upon the freshest set of mink tracks imaginable. They were in the form of a set of wet paw prints traversing over a metal culvert (see above).  The day being windy and relatively mild, it was obvious the maker had passed by only minutes before.  As I was taking the first photo, a movement to my right informed me that the tracks were actually only a few seconds old. A large male mink was walking the bank close to the water line only six feet away.

  The mink turned around and began to retrace its route.  I focused my camera on the wet tracks and waited for it to drift into my view finder (see here). Like an appartition, the creature suddenly appeared (see here) and looked nervously about.  I was positioned on a boardwalk overlooking the scene where he could not easily see me.  It seemed to be aware that something was amiss but chose not to look up. The fellow then melted away and was gone. My photo, like all spirit pictures, turned out to be slightly out of focus and ephemeral in nature.

  I lingered over the wet paw prints after the encounter and watched them dissipate. It took a little over a minute (see here, here, and here in sequence) before the culvert once again stood mute regarding the mink’s passage.