If you go down in the woods today, you may be surprised to learn that your image and voice are being captured on video – without your permission or even your knowledge.

Blame a growing, wild-west proliferation of recreational trail cams being deployed in nature.

Trail cameras were once the domain of sportsmen collecting prehunt intelligence along game trails. Nowadays, everyone is getting in on the act – myself included.

Wildlife enthusiasts are increasingly deploying trail cams to capture images of animals going about their business in a natural setting, without human intrusion.

According to Polaris Market Research, the global trail camera market exceeded US$105-million in 2023 – a figure expected to rise to almost US$200-million by 2032.

SkyQuest, a technology services company, cites the “growing popularity of outdoor activities such as birdwatching and nature photography” and a flood of manufacturers providing ever more choices.

While professional-quality trail cameras can cost thousands of dollars, there’s also a wide range of models producing surprisingly good images at under $100. That’s great for non-consumptive wildlife consumers, but what of unsuspecting forest users?

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But how does the healing power of nature square with a proliferation of outdoor spy cams? And what does the law say?

Teresa Scassa, a law professor at the University of Ottawa who specializes in privacy issues, says “public and private-sector data protection laws” would not apply to an individual simply putting out a trail camera in nature for personal use.

She also suggests the chances of a legal action succeeding would be reduced where the video recording occurs on public lands. “There’s a long tradition of courts not recognizing private rights in public spaces,” Dr. Scassa says. “If you’re in public spaces, you have a significantly diminished expectation of privacy.”

Dr. Scassa sympathizes with the argument that “up until now, most people have figured a walk in the woods is like a quintessential solitary reflective activity and that you’re not being filmed.”

But she says a judge would have to weigh the interests of the person wanting to walk in the forest without being video recorded versus the interests of the trail-cam enthusiast seeking to capture images of wildlife.

Truth is, unless the trail-cam images are posted to social media it’s unlikely anyone would know.

“You’d have to know you’d been captured on film to sue and willing to spend the money to go to court,” Dr. Scassa says. “And most people would not.”

I’ve learned from personal experience how trail cams can capture people as well as wildlife. It’s often more humorous or curious than offensive. Like the guy walking his dog who smiled and waved at my supposedly hidden camera. Or the person who stood anonymously behind the camera and reached around to press their small dog against the lens, as though to emulate a mysterious furry beast. Or the bow hunter in camouflage placing apples along a trail to bait deer.

But the experience can also be cringeworthy, as when people walk by and speak openly, clearly oblivious to the trail cam’s presence or to the fact it is recording their voice. And while I have never obtained images of people going to the bathroom, having sex or committing a crime in the forest, I suspect others have.

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So what’s to be done?

Parks Canada has a policy requiring research permits for “motion-activated” trail cameras to “prevent disturbance to wildlife at sensitive locations and protect the privacy of visitors.” Violators face fines of up to $25,000.

The federal agency also has its own guidelines for park research involving trail cameras, which include deleting images of people and posting signs so visitors know in advance.

Ontario Parks allows visitors to set up trail cameras on a “registered campsite with a valid camping permit,” provided they cause no damage. One wonders how often such cameras capture neighbouring campers leaving their tents at night for a pee.

B.C. Parks requires a park-use permit. “The public is not allowed to install monitoring equipment [cameras] without authorization,” says B.C. Parks spokesman David Karn.

But no such firm rules apply to vast areas of provincial forest lands – or to many other public lands in Canada, for that matter.

Metro Vancouver has no policy on unauthorized trail cams, per se, but if park staff spot one it is considered left or abandoned property and removed.

Staff at the City of Toronto, with more than 1,500 parks and 8,000 hectares of land, told me: “Our team hasn’t been able to find a policy on this.”

In the absence of specific laws, trail-cam enthusiasts can voluntarily take steps to reduce privacy concerns. NatureSpy, based in England, describes itself as a conservation research organization promoting “non-intrusive wildlife watching.” The group offers several suggestions when placing a trail camera, including: avoid high-traffic areas; post signs informing the public of the presence of a trail camera and how the video is going to be used; purchase a trail camera model that “encrypts footage directly onto the SD card, preventing unauthorized access of footage directly from the camera”; remove identifiable information of individuals before sharing or publishing images; and use cable locks and security boxes to help prevent camera theft.

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But even locks are no guarantee.

Nick Didlick is an acclaimed news photographer turned digital imaging consultant who in 2011 captured the first trail-cam images confirming the presence of grizzly bears in the Pitt River Valley, on the edge of populous Metro Vancouver.

Mr. Didlick won’t advertise specific locations of his trail cams, since he’s already had one stolen from a tree alongside the Pitt River, where he was monitoring jet-boat traffic.

“I’ve seen a camera with a bullet through it,” he told me. “So it doesn’t stop the vandalism.”

While trail cams are a great way for people to gain appreciation of nature, it’s important to follow some common-sense rules.

On Crown land “you really have no privacy issue, if you’re not doing anything illegal,” Mr. Didlick says.

But on private lands, obtain permission from landowners before placing a trail camera, he advises. The same applies to cameras placed on public land but facing private property. As a good-will gesture, offer landowners some wildlife images obtained from their properties.

I have even given chunks of home-smoked salmon to a private landowner who generously allowed me to enter his property.

The debate over trail cams and privacy issues has just begun in Canada, but stands to heat up as nature lovers place more of them on trails used not only by wildlife but unwitting folks out for a simple walk in nature.

For now, best to keep an eye out. You just never know what – or who – is watching.