I am not sure the excitement I felt on my mountain journeys has ever exceeded the thrill in the hearts of the first graders who I led with their teacher up out of the cottonwood woodlands, past the meadow, through the pondersosa Pine and Douglas fir forest, up to where the trail turns steep and switches back on itself. Our destination was the rocky knob overlooking a valley in the Colorado foothills.
From there the children could look down upon the tops of the cottonwoods they were walking under 45 minutes before, get a glimpse of the forested ridges above, see a deer slipping into the shelter of the hidden woods around them. For most of them this was their first real experience with the granduer of nature, the first wild adventure of their young lives.
After they settled in from the hard hike, and got a long look at the amazing view from our ridge, I passed out stuffed animals - a fox, a frog, a bear, a raccoon. The children smiled and hugged them tight. I told a story about each one as they returned them to me, about a grizzly bear mother playing with her cubs, sliding down the slopes of snow and roaring in delight ("Did you know animals that are smarter play more?" I asked them. "I bet you kids play an awful lot.") I told of foxes who jump like grasshoppers and drop out of the sky like hawks to pin a mouse to the ground.
In the course of a season, from March to November, I give upwards of 30 nature hikes for schoolchildren and their teachers, sponsored by two nature centers - one out on the plains, the other in the Colorado mountains.
On some of these hikes I talk to the children about the nature of beauty, that it changes from day to day, and it belongs to us, because each of us sees beauty in our own way. They tell me what they see as beautiful - mountains, wildflowers, birds, early impressions of the divine in nature in their developing minds.
Occasionally I tell them about a moment of mysterious beauty I witnessed years ago: up next to an timberline lake on a clear night, with the sky full of stars above me, spreading down to the mountain peaks, and beneath me, reflecting from the depths of the black water.
Nature interpretation comes easy for me, because it is just passing on my interest and love for the things of this earth, that I have had since I was their age, and which has grown as I have aged.
My hope for the future is a simple one, to continue what I have done for much of my life - walking and paying attention to the wealth and artistry within each day, sometimes with a line of children and their teachers following me, explaining this love I have, which they understand, and which might create an impression they will remember.
Some of the children already have a passion for wild things, and during our walks I listen to their stories about foxes they have seen near their home, about their camping trip, about the bugs they have found.
The best thing I can do is affirm and encourage their interest, looking up at the tall cottonwoods and describing the dawn chorus of birdsong I have heard here in May, explaining how the mountain lion knows if it stays still and crouches down it is invisible to most, that this meadow is covered with white and lavendar pasque flowers in April, and is one of those beautiful events in nature that a person feels blessed to witness.
