This is Spring

So, I took a bunch of kids and parents out on a hike today. Actually, I just told them where to park and generally what to look for and then brought up the rear with the little guy. They took themselves to the woods.

We were on a trip to hunt for antlers. We were planning to leave them in the woods for their intended purpose of providing calcium and minerals to the wildlife and eventually decomposing to nourish the soil.

Mother nature wasn't exactly cooperative with our schedule. But it was the right Friday and it was 1 o'clock and despite the dire weather predictions, we met an a gravel patch along the side of busy Route 83 to hike the Esker Trail at Cap Sauers Forest Preserve in Cook County. All wildlife - deer, squirrels, birds - were taking cover from the heavy snow falling down. We could actually hear the snow out there. Billed as the most secluded part of Cook County, it lived up to its name and allowed us to hear wind, snow, feel the water and wet. It did not, however, allow for us to find any antlers.

I am prone to hyperbole about my Roots&Shoots group. Our experiences out in the wild are always life-affirming for me. One is always better than the other, building to an never ending crescendo. To hear these kids squealing with delight as they lost shoes in the mud brought warmth to my heart. We walked on a path on top of the remains of an ancient, glacial river that had become another river trickling under foot. We crossed little creeks, climbed over fallen trees, sunk in the mud and got soaking wet.

This March snow was heavy and very wet. Rain and slush-like, foggy even. Grey, very grey. My glasses were so wet it felt like swimming. No one complained. Some got cold, but warmed up with moving. No one cried. Great snowball fights ensued once it became clear than any antlers remaining after poachers had taken them were now hidden in the snow. The kids were excited to learn about the esker, inspected a strangely red bottomed creek, poked into dead and live trees, peered at trunks looking for signs of antler rubbing and generally had a great time. Mud and snow usually make for a great time.

Passing great brush piles, one child said "Wow, they must have a lot of people here working like we do," referring to our restoration work days at Ted Stone Forest, also in Cook County. Connection made, mission accomplished.

We didn't realize how very wet we were until we got home. We weren't cold, exactly, but damp. We ran the defroster the whole way home and still couldn't see well out the windows. But when we dumped our wet stuff in the bathroom at home and discovered only our underclothes were dry, we realized how much smarter animals are than the humans. Of course, they don't have heated homes to return to.