Last week, for the first time in several months, I got the chance to visit the Penjajawoc Marsh in Bangor.

It was interesting to see the wetland from a different perspective; the organized snowshoe trip I was part of took place on Maine Audubon-owned land which abuts the northwest side of the marsh.

I didn’t expect we would see many birds, if at all. I did hold out hope that a short-eared, barred, or great horned owl would show up, but this was not to be. However, it was fascinating to see evidence of wildlife activity revealed since the cold stripped the land of its cover.

Our group was guided by land stewards Betty and Richard Baird, as well as by Audubon center director Judy Markowsky. The Bairds regularly walk the property’s trails, which lead over fields, through woods, and alongside the marsh. They had become familiar with its many wild denizens, and, being good trackers, could point out the stories written in the snow.

As we shushed across the field leading down toward the marsh, Richard brought our attention to the profusion of snowshoe hare tracks – at one point, a veritable “hare highway” led from the woods bordering the field to a clump of shrubs a short distance away.

Many coyote tracks were seen, as well as their scat, which contained abundant apple seeds and bits of fur. Other predators were also evident; in one spot, as though it had been planned, a delicate, almost perfect fox print could be seen alongside an equally well-preserved, but larger, coyote print.

The small saplings bordering the marsh revealed the workings of a porcupine – the bark had been gnawed off, leaving whole branches denuded at certain points. Leading away from the tree, its tracks were just barely discernable. Later on, we actually found a porcupine’s den which was obviously in use; signs of recent digging were obvious, as was the dirt being tracked out onto the snow from the den.

Along the margins of the marsh itself were the tiny tracks of meadow voles, followed by the tracks of hungry coyotes. We could see where the canine had pushed its nose into the base of a cattail clump, apparently hunting for its small prey. Weasel spoor was also abundant, and one set of tracks that may have been those of a mink showed on the bank.

Toward the bottom of a small alder tree was the expertly woven nest of a red-winged blackbird. A recent article in “Birder’s World” by George Harrison illuminated the special challenge faced by the female of the species when constructing the nest: constructed as they often are in emergent vegetation (such as cattails), the nests need to be designed so as to accommodate the maturing vegetation. Since they are actually suspended from the vertical supports of a small cluster of cattails or other plant, any mistake in construction could cause the nest to become crushed or unbalanced as the plant grows.

I thought of this as I remembered the nest, which was still intact after the ravages of winter. Birds may be known for their beauty or song, but they are also incredible engineers. This aspect of a bird’s life – as well as the survival techniques of other wild animals – is easily studied during the apparent bleakness of a winter landscape.

If you would like to participate in future events on Maine Audubon land, call the Fields Pond Nature Center at 989-2591, or e-mail the center for a newsletter of upcoming events. You can also visit the Web site of the Penobscot Valley Chapter of Maine Audubon at http://www.pvcaudubon.org/index.htm.

Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com