Where Do We Go Now?

Imagine looking down a river bank in the late fall. The trees are ablaze with the golden orange colors of Autumn, the sun is glistening off of the river in a prism of diamonds. The sky is so clear and blue that it almost hurts your eyes to look. The woods nearby are noisy with the inhabitants preparing for winter. The squirrels are running through the trees busily hiding away acorns for the long winter ahead, the birds are chirping their warning of cooler weather, and somewhere in the distance you may hear a deer walking towards it’s bed of dry leaves and pine straw.

 

In the distance, you see a family with a small campsite on the sandbar at the waters edge. A fire is burning, putting the faint, sweet scent of smoke in the air. You can barely smell the coffee and stew that the mother has cooking. You can see the smiles of the little boys as they fish with their father at the waters edge. The mother is sitting contentedly watching. The young daughter is quietly drawing unknown pictures in the sand. Each of the people you see are happy and pleased to be in the middle of nature. There are no other people around, unless you go farther down the river to another sandbar. There are no televisions, video games, telephones, or other worldly “necessities” to be found. Simply a family enjoying the outdoors.

If you had came by earlier, you could have seen the mother showing the children animal tracks in the sand on the river bank, and teaching them which animal made them. You could have seen the father showing the boys how to properly tie a hook onto their line, how to put a cricket on the hook so he will still move and attract a bite from the prize catch, and how to remove a hook from a turtles mouth without harming him. The stew in the pot is made from the squirrels that were hunted this morning. The father and sons brought them in, and the daughter has learned from her mother how to clean them faster than you can get the pot ready. The daughter takes a little pride in her speed and accuracy. The sons have the glow of being able to provide supper, (or at least part of it). They know that the fish caught this afternoon may be tomorrow’s breakfast.

 

Before lunch time, the family gathered the wood for this evenings campfire. The children have already been taught to look for wood that has already fallen and is dry, as most green wood won’t burn well anyway. They know which wood gives off the most smoke to keep mosquitoes and gnats away, which burns the longest and hottest, and which will make meat cooked over it taste the best. As dusk begins to fall, they will all go down to the river and wash up for supper. When supper is finished, mother and sons go again to the water to clean up everything after supper. The boys are busy scooping sand into the pots and dishes to scrub the food particles and grease away. No soap could get them any cleaner. Mother also gets a fresh pot of water for coffee and hot chocolate. The water may have a strange color, but the children know that it is because of the tannic acid from the tree roots and leaves in the water. No bacteria can grow in the tannic acid. The water is safe.

 

Back at camp, father and daughter are preparing for the night. When you’re in the woods, bedtime comes early, and no one ever complains. When the sun goes down, and the sky is filled with millions of stars, it just feels right to lie down. Just as it feels right to rise early when the fog is still clinging to the trees and hovering just above the water.

 

When everyone is sitting next to the fire, it is time for stories, roasted marshmallows, and learning about the woods at night. The children are taught the different sounds of all the night birds. They listen for, and can identify raccoons and opossums scrambling in the woods just behind the camp. They have learned the secrets of how to tell when the deer are feeding, when it’s expected to rain, and how to tell if the water is rising. They know how to hunt, fish, and supply themselves with food. They

know the right way to build a safe fire, and what type of wood to use. They have a wonderful respect for the woods, the river, and everything in it. They know the music of nature, and how to dance with it. The reason they know is that they were taught. They were able to be taught because there was a place to teach them.

 

The next time the family comes, they can’t get to this place. It has been blocked off with a gate made from steel pipe, chained and padlocked. There is no way to get there. There is no more access to the classroom of nature. There is now a posted sign, nailed into a tree with a large spike. The children see the sap running from the new injury to the tree, and know that the sap will attract the insects, who will eventually kill the tree. Everything is only a matter of time. They are saddened by this turn of events.

When the father inquires, he learns that area is now leased by a hunting club. He doesn’t have the money to join this club, or any other for that matter. In his experience, most of the members of hunting clubs aren’t as responsible as they should be. When they have done all the damage they can do to the public lands, they return to their leased “club”. It just doesn’t seem fair that the ones with the most money always win. He can’t afford to join them, and he can’t afford to fight them.

 

The only other place to camp is at a campground. Yes, it’s also right on the river, but it is full of big RVs with their big, noisy electric generators. The sounds of their televisions replace the sound of the crickets. The parks lights replace the millions of stars. The smell of pine is replaced with gasoline fumes. No camp fires are needed, as the park boast of being safe and well lit. The quiet is interrupted by the noise of four wheelers, boat motors, and too many people. It also cost $20.00 a night to stay here. He can’t afford that for a weekend either. After all, he’s not made of money, and he’s got a
family to support.

 

For the next year or so, the family weekends are spent mostly at home. There is always a television or radio playing. Instead of fishing and hunting, the boys are riding skateboards and bicycles. The father works in the yard, the mother cleans out closets and drawers. The daughter spends her time on the phone. The beauty and sounds of nature are so far back in their minds that they are almost forgotten.

 

The father hears that the old campsite area is now re-opened, and makes plans for the following weekend. When they arrive, the once pristine sand is now full of broken glass, beer cans, and tire tracks. The once proud standing trees in back of the old campsite are nothing but jagged stumps. They’ve been cut down and used for huge bonfires, and no one remembered to clean up the mess. Several of the trees that remain have wire pinching into the bark from old lines put up by the members of the club. The members didn’t have to care. After all, the land didn’t belong to them. There are no more bird nest in the trees near the old campsite. The only tracks are human, not animal. There is no longer anything here to teach, except for what things not to do. As the children go down to the waters edge, they see a dead turtle. He has a hook in his mouth, and being unable to eat, has simply came to the edge and died. They don’t understand. The mother tries to explain, but cannot find the words. The father simply walks away and cries.

 

When will we learn? When will big businesses learn? When will the teaching of our children be more valuable than the almighty dollar? When will the timber companies, who control most of our wooded areas, learn that to really preserve something, you have to teach our younger generations how to respect and protect it? When will hunting clubs learn, that regardless of their money, we, the few who wish to teach our children, don’t want them here? When will we start speaking up and speaking out? When will we quit allowing the Department of Natural Resources to ask us for help, when we can’t do a thing and don’t have a voice? When will we change our value systems?

 

Where will we take our children to learn? To the local library? Some things simply can not be learned from a book. How can a book teach a child what a mocking bird sounds like? Can a book explain the smell of pines needles in the early morning mist? How can a book make the sounds of a ripple in the river caused by a fish jumping for a quick meal? Is it possible that a book can fully describe the taste of fresh meat cooked over an open fire? How can a book illustrate the feel of warm sand on bare feet?

 

Once all the lands and rivers have been taken over, used up, polluted, over hunted, over fished, and ruined for future generations, will the hunting clubs and pulp wood companies with all their money finally be satisfied? Is the loss of education and respect worth it? Where do we go now?