By John Ford
Imagine you are standing in the Kalahari Desert. Before you is a vast expanse of sand, rock, and scrub. There are no animals in sight. And yet, a San tracker beside you kneels, studies the ground, and says, “It passed through here... early this morning... it’s wounded... and moving slowly.”
To the untrained eye, there’s nothing to see. But to the practiced tracker, the land is full of information. Every faint indentation, every shift in texture or shadow, tells a story.
In The Art of Tracking: The Origin of Science, South African author and tracker Louis Liebenberg explores this remarkable ability. He spent years in the field with Indigenous San trackers, not only learning their techniques, but asking a deeper question:
What kind of thinking makes tracking possible?
His answer: tracking is not just a survival skill—it’s an early form of scientific reasoning. Long before there were laboratories and peer review, there were people interpreting scattered evidence, forming hypotheses, testing ideas against nature, and refining their understanding through direct experience.
Liebenberg distinguishes between two primary ways that trackers work: systematic tracking and speculative tracking.
Systematic Tracking: The Art of Seeing What’s There
Systematic tracking involves following clear, visible signs. A hoofprint. A bent twig. A patch of flattened grass. These clues are straightforward and sensory-based. They rely on genuine perception—a form of presence that requires the tracker to be acutely tuned into their environment.
This mode is not passive observation. It demands discipline. The tracker must notice what others overlook, differentiate between noise and signal, and remember patterns learned over time. Their attention is precise, embodied, and relational. They are not just looking at the land—they are in dialogue with it.
Speculative Tracking: The Imagination Enters the Picture
But what happens when the ground hardens, or the wind covers the trail? When the spoor becomes faint, broken, or disappears altogether?
This is where speculative tracking begins. Now the tracker must imagine the animal’s movements—based on what they know of its habits, behavior, and recent direction. They must reconstruct the likely scenario: If it was limping, it wouldn’t take that incline. If it’s wounded, it may move toward water. If it sensed danger, it might double back.
Speculative tracking is not guesswork—it’s structured imagination. It’s the mind projecting possibilities, then returning to the ground to test them. It’s the dance between what’s seen and what’s sensed.
This is where Liebenberg makes his bold claim: that this type of thinking—speculative, evidence-based, and imaginative—is the origin of scientific thought. In essence, tracking is a primal form of inquiry.
From the Desert to the Heart: Empathy as Inner Tracking
When we consider the work of empathy, we find an almost uncanny parallel.
Empathy, too, begins with genuine perception. We listen for what someone says—and doesn’t say. We notice their posture, their tone, their pace of speech. We attend to their presence. Just like the tracker reading the land, we read the emotional terrain of another person.
And yet, this only gets us so far. Like tracking, empathy often reaches a point where the trail fades.
The person may not know what they’re feeling. Or they may not say it clearly. Or they may say one thing while their body says another. At this moment, deep imagination must enter. We begin to ask:
What might be going on beneath that anger?
What kind of pain is hiding in that silence?
What would I be feeling if I were in that situation?
We are not guessing. We are using everything we have perceived to construct a meaningful, respectful hypothesis. And then we test it—not with certainty, but with care. “Are you feeling overwhelmed... maybe needing some space?” The empathic response becomes an offering. A breadcrumb on the trail.
The Emergence of Intuition: Embodied Knowing
Some trackers, after years of practice, develop what appears to be intuition. They look across a landscape and just know where the animal is heading. This isn’t magic. It’s the result of years of integrating perception and imagination until the process becomes fluid, embodied, and largely unconscious.
The same can happen with empathy. Experienced listeners seem to “feel into” someone’s experience almost instantly. But beneath this apparent intuition lies a foundation of deep attunement, thousands of emotional conversations, and a cultivated willingness to stay present with uncertainty.
What we call intuition, in both tracking and empathy, may simply be the seamless convergence of perception and imagination.
Why This Matters
In a world full of noise and conflict, the ability to track the emotional landscape of others is no small thing. Whether in relationships, leadership, parenting, or friendship, empathy allows us to follow subtle trails—to listen not just to words, but to needs. Not just to behaviors, but to longings.
Louis Liebenberg reminds us that tracking is an ancient human inheritance. I’d argue the same is true for empathy.
Both begin with attention. Both rely on imagination. Both lead us beyond what is visible into what is deeply human.
And both, ultimately, invite us to walk alongside others—not with certainty, but with presence, humility, and care.