A More Connected World
A new web blog asks what would happen if social justice weren’t just a human thing. Follow us and find out.
BY TRACY BASILEMARCH 16, 2025“Begin anywhere.” — John Cage
Cage’s quote is a reminder that just the act of starting something takes courage. Still, no matter where this blog begins, I want to get it right, but already I sense a problem with the word “animal.” Indeed, animals is what this blog is about, but the word carries with it a sense of othering that needs to be exposed. Human exceptionalism is so deeply ingrained in the English language no one notices. It’s like the word “nature,” or “environment.” Once you say it, you’ve drawn a line and you’re on the other side.
Instead, let’s begin with the words of Onondaga clan mother, writer, and environmentalist Audrey Shenandoah: “We seek justice, not just for ourselves, but for the whole creation.” What if we could do that, too?
What would it take to instill in ourselves a deeper respect for animals, a relationship less driven by profit and patriarchy and more informed by the Indigenous peoples who have built ties with their animal relatives on this land for thousands of years? Colonialism broke those ancient ties, but what if we sought to restore them?
When I worked as an editor and reporter in the nonprofit world of animal rights, I read and wrote about animals all the time, but I didn’t really know them. It wasn’t my job to go out and experience animals directly, even though I was lucky enough to interview people who did. A few years later I started working with Indigenous activists and I felt myself drawn to their ideas about ecology and stewardship. I heard from them a different kind of animal story and I liked it.
I began to see that the stories of the animals and the people are not so different.
Blue heron tracks at Teatown PreserveThe beaver, the wolf, and the condor, as well as countless other species, are deeply connected to this land and are just as much victims of colonization as their human counterparts. But what I remember most from these talks is how Native elders described the animals not as objects or resources, but as their relatives.
I wanted to feel that way, too. Connected to wildlife and their worlds. I’d grown tired of what so much of our lives are filled with today: searching the internet, pounding keyboards, and pushing ourselves to work harder. So, just a few months before starting this blog, I began to learn the basics of tracking. It’s literally put me on a new path.
So far I’ve gone on a few dozen hikes in preserves and wooded areas in the Lower Hudson Valley of New York. I’d like to say I’ve found some amazing tracks—like bobcat or beaver—but I haven’t. Yet the walks are immensely satisfying. Every time I come across mud or sand near the edge of a stream or pond, or see tracks curve across a frozen lake iced with snow, I check it out, I lean in, I take my time. I soften.
When I come across the footprints of raccoon, or deer, or wild turkey, I ask myself what was the animal doing? Where were they going? How fast were they moving? Were others here before or after? I look closely, not sure how to interpret what I see, asking questions, not pressing for answers.
That is my hope, too, for the short nonfiction stories that appear on Animal Footnotes. That they raise more questions than offer answers and that the questions are always about connection. Human connections to a more-than-human world.
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