A Boy and his Woods

I've wanted to live in the woods since I can remember. And not just have a house in the woods - I wanted to live in one of the primitive log shelters that the neighborhood boys and I constructe

 

I've wanted to live in the woods since I can remember. And not just have a house in the woods - I wanted to live in one of the primitive log shelters that the neighborhood boys and I constructed. I longed for the day when I would become an adult and could realize this dream.

After all, we spent all day, every day in the woods. From sunrise to sunset, except on schooldays when we couldn't get there until afterwards, we worked on our structures, blazed trails, and explored.  We "subsisted" on wild onions, wood sorrels, dandelions, and blackberries.  We even had a designated restroom area.

My buddies and I lived by a simple, but strict code. It was anathema to introduce anything into our life in the woods that wasn't used by either the mountain men or the Native Americans. To violate this strict rule was to risk excommunication.  We were adamant about learning what they knew and how they lived. We practiced how to silently stalk through the brush by "rolling" each step onto the ground using the outsides of our feet. We learned what plants around us were edible, how to build shelters, and how to identify each tree and bird. We learned to recognize the various "signs" in nature that indicated impending bad weather, the presence of an unwelcome guest, and direction.  We also made snares and traps, however unsuccessful. We didn't yell through the woods, we called to each other by mimicking a mourning dove, crow, or quail.

The majority of our time was spent on our "homes". We mastered the construction of the lean-to and the wickiup; a "teepee" made of logs and covered with grass. Sometimes, we even dug a few feet into the earth to make the interior bigger. To this day, one of the most comforting odors in the world to me is the smell of dirt, along with sassafras, wild onions, and burning wood.

Although we were perpetually engaged in some activity, there were times for leisure. After lunch, often we would relax on our beds of timber and contemplate the mysteries of life and the universe. Conversation would ultimately return to Indians, though, which often resolved the aforementioned complexities.

There were implications to spending so much time in nature. Poison Ivy rashes chronically covered our bodies. Ticks were daily picked from our scalps by the dozens. Cockleburs and Beggar's Lice covered our pant legs. Thorn bushes often tore our clothes and scratched our skin. Mosquito bites covered our legs, although we eventually learned that rubbing the pleasant-smelling sassafras on us repelled the bothersome insects.

Upon the arrival of sunset, disappointment set in. After having spent the day in a utopian setting outside of time's jurisdiction, returning to "civilization" was always a culture shock. The simplicity and fulfillment we experienced in the woods eclipsed the pleasure produced by any television show, game of football, or video game that existed in the "outside world".

When I consider the effect that my childhood in the woods has had on me as an adult, I've decided that it gave me perspective. It introduced a mystery into my life that has yet to wane. I acquired what I now realize was a special gift, as I have found few people who can relate to my perpetual fascination with nature.  It is reassuring for me to know that no matter what challenge presents itself in my life, the woods, like a true friend, will always welcome me home.

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