Wild Child

Watching my two daughters - 13 and 11 - playing together in the backyard on this beautiful Saturday morning reminded me of one of my favorite essays, penned a good five years ago for the Trustees of Reservations.

Into the Wild

My two young daughters love being outdoors – in sprawling, windswept fields, lush green forests, and soothing, sandy beaches that stretch forever. Whether that's the result of nature or nurture, I don't know. They’ve never had a choice. My wife, Lauri, and I possess a primal need to flee from our work-a-day worlds. We’ve always found that escape in unspoiled settings. And ever since our girls came into this world, they’ve accompanied us.

Still, it’s not like we’ve got a pair of wool-clad, granola-chomping nature imps. They’ll zone out in front of the Boob Tube as quick as any kid, immersed in the hypnotic pull of SpongeBob Squarepants, Fairly Odd Parents, Jimmy Neutron and Lizzie Maguire. In short, they’re “normal.” To get them outside and engaged, they need a nudge.

That wasn’t always easy, especially when the girls were toddlers. But we managed, graduating from Baby Bjorns to backpack-style kid carriers to all-terrain strollers. What we learned was that children are incredibly adaptable. The key is getting them out before they know any better, so they accept the great outdoors as part of the natural order of being a kid.

The adjustment, ironically, may be tougher for the parents. We're the ones who fret about everything that we think we need to do to make it a great experience. It was my older brother Sean, the father of four, who shook me free of my paralysis by putting parenting in proper perspective. “Brion, you only have to stay one step ahead of a six-year-old.”

He’s right. We weren’t planning an Everest expedition. Armed with Sean’s sage advice, I decided not to let things get too complicated. We started with small trips, for an hour or so, and then just let them build (the girls, we found, are particularly adept at telling us when they are ready to take the next step). We kept it simple.We packed snacks, an extra sweater, bug spray and sun block. Without lesson plans or itineraries, we set out with faith in the idea that when kids and nature mix––something wonderful will happen. And it did. The girls just romped. And we joined them, from the fruitless-but-wildly-entertaining chase of butterflies to the energizing investigation of intricate tidal pools and shadowy forest floors.

Today, my oldest, eight-year-old Maddi, craves open spaces. As we crest the boardwalk at Crane Beach in Ipswich, she inevitably picks up the pace, her spontaneous giggle revealing the unfettered joy of a child with room to run. Six-year-old Brynne takes a different approach, aware that keeping up with big sister is a big undertaking. Instead, she delves into the minutiae of small, secret places, whether on the leaf-filled serpentine trails of Ravenswood or in the scrub pine woods behind the dunes at Crane, uncovering frogs and worms and salamanders.

Watching Maddi and Brynne, something else quite remarkable happens. Lauri and I realize that our girls, with their unbridled enthusiasm for the natural world, spark our own imaginations. With that, they help rekindle our passion for the great outdoors.

North Shore resident Brion O’Connor is a freelance writer and longtime member of The Trustees of Reservations.