So here they are.
Looking at footprints is like looking into the past. A kind of ghost image that allows you to pay attention after the chance moment of observation has slipped by. Sand, mud, feet, claws. All linked to form a pattern and the pattern tells you something. Something different from seeing the (in this case) bird, something different from having the bird in the hand. It’s a different way of knowing the same thing.
Seeds and birds feet. Islands and colonization. It make me wonder what role cars, boots, sleeping mats and fishing nets play in the movement of weeds.
What travelers do we bring when we visit the special places we love? What footprints do we leave that others may find? What do we bring that could spell change for the islands of naturalness we visit?