Forest Kids

Forest Kids
stops and looks up the hill at this circle of children, perks its ears.
The owner calls the Lab once, loudly. Then twice, even louder. The
children are attuned to forest sounds, but they are engrossed in the
story. Not one of them turns his or her head.
After snack time, they collect apple cores and food scraps and
toss them in a bag for the worms in the classroom composter. A
teacher takes the girls to the bushes, then any of the boys who need
to go.
Halfway through the morning, after the hike to the woods and
playtime, their energy levels have shifted into a quieter learning
mode.
Someone points to a log and asks Eric if he can tell from the
needles what kind of tree it is. A hemlock, he says. “You can tell
because it’s lacy.”
Tegan’s head is back and she’s pointing. “I see a nest up there.”
“Where? Oh, there.”
“Whose is it?”
“An eagle’s?”
“A bald eagle’s?”
“An owl’s?”
They remember what an owl in the forest sounds like. Ms.
Lockerbie told them the other day.
“Who-cooks-for-you-u-u-u-u.”
Soon 19 children are hooting in unison.
“Shhh. Let’s see if the owl will answer us.”
“Maybe if we close our eyes, our ears will hear better.”
All is quiet but the chickadees. Then everyone is giggling.
—
At the top of the site, children sprawl on groundsheets, clutching
coloured pencils, brows knotted as they set to work with their pine
cones, leaves, needles and magazine pictures. They are working
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