Krupa Joshi, age 16

Camille Rutter

All the oaks
Growing,
Thriving,
Releasing
Pure oxygen for the world to breathe

Fostering life,
Providing air for all in the world
With their rough brown bark, and smooth green leaves,
Sticking out on little twigs,
Acorns will drop,
Shoot roots out,
Send leaves to the surface
And start another tree
To provide air for all people,
Animals,
And life on Earth.

I appreciate the oaks,
For they provide for all,
Not a select few,
Of the many beings on earth.

If not for the trees,
There wouldn’t be the fresh smell
of forest green air.

So I thank the trees
for all they do for me,
And all they will do,
In the future.

Poetry

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Camille Rutter thanks the trees that give us all life.

Ode to the Oaks

Fizza Raza

 From rocks used as hunting tools to fruit used as sustenance, humankind has always looked to nature for survival.

The earliest records of history show that nature, in all its shapes and forms, has served humanity. From rocks used as hunting tools to fruit used as sustenance, humankind has always looked to nature for survival. 

This is not a dependency confined to ancient times; it seeps into our everyday lives today, too. Industries, households, and entire societies are powered solely on what nature offers us, be it water, coal, electricity, or energy in any form. Upon closer inspection, this seems rather odd. Human beings are, above all, characterized as fiercely independent and progressive: in fact, as the most intelligent species to colonize the planet. How is it then that humanity, this remarkable species, depends entirely on nature for its survival? Perhaps an even greater cause for indignation — how is it that we are destroying the very thing responsible for our survival and continued progression? Whether or not humans have a “right” to exploit nature, our survival depends on its survival. As the only species capable of saving the environment, we must now work to serve its interests in more ways.

Do we, as a species, deserve nature? Should it really serve us? Is the fact that human beings are able to use nature for our betterment enough to give us the inherent right to exploit it? Let us first examine the lines that define nature and humanity. In some ways, the two cannot be distinguished from one another — humanity comes from nature, is both a product of natural forces (as a living creature), and depends on it for sustenance. But the line between the two becomes increasingly clear if we view their relationship through the lens of what separates humanity from other living creations: intelligence. Mankind’s intelligence and ability to use natural creations to its advantage clearly distinguish the two. Animals or other beings with semi-autonomy all constitute greater parts of nature than we do, because of our ability to think and use what exists naturally, modify it, and make greater creations.

However, it is this same ability that we have misused in the recent past. If we look at nature as a sentient being, capable of making decisions, almost all logical arguments would conclude that nature should not continue to serve us. It has become an increasingly paradoxical relationship that we share with nature; while nature has always served as a safe haven for humans, from prehistoric times when our ancestors would use the protection of trees to escape predators, we have been the single greatest cause of its destruction. Large scale deforestation and industrial pollution are just a few examples. Perhaps we do not deserve nature and all it has to offer. 

Should nature continue to serve us, independent of whether or not that is of benefit to nature? We should ask if we have an inherent right over nature, simply, because humanity has been intelligent and able enough to exploit it. You might instinctively agree with this — if we have been the only species that has used nature to our advantage, then we should continue to do so. Yet, that same logic could be used to argue that we should be serving nature and not the other way round. Our brilliance has been in our capacity to use nature; our foolishness has been in the way we have gone about it. The same cleverness that justifies our use of nature also justifies why we need to use our privilege to protect nature now — we are the only species capable of doing so. 

Do we have a responsibility to nature, for its servitude to humanity since the dawn of time, independent of our capacity to help nature? Should the narrative be more about  what we, as a species, owe to nature versus how to sustainably use nature to our advantage? The responses to these questions seem almost instinctual. Not only are we the only species that can help protect nature, we are the cause for its current predicament. It is a climate emergency that our actions have brought upon us and at this point, human beings must right their wrongs done unto nature. Our responsibility to nature exists two-fold; we have been the cause of nature’s decline, and even without this direct cause-effect relationship, we are the only species that has the capacity to help nature flourish. As the most intelligent species to colonize the planet, helping nature (or reversing the harm done unto nature) does not necessarily have to be mutually exclusive. Sustainable development is the prime manifestation of humanity’s intelligence — both recognizing the limits of nature, while also maximizing its utility. With careful planning and calculated decision-making, mankind can both rescue and strike a balance with nature. 

In a KidSpirit Big Question article, teen writer Fizza Raza explores our relationship to nature and our responsibility to the environment.

Should We Serve Nature or Should Nature Serve Us?

Olivia Bailey

Over the past six decades, humanity (especially children) has shifted away from nature and towards an urban, digital lifestyle.

The thing about living in Maine is that it’s nearly impossible to get away from nature. 

It is the most heavily forested state, after all, with a whopping 90% of its 22.7 million acres taken up by forest. Living here as I have for the past 13 years of my life (I was born in North Carolina, and moved here when I was three), I’ve been pretty thoroughly immersed in the bounty of nature at my fingertips. Not to mention that I live in a very “outdoorsy” household — my family spends ample amounts of time on the ocean, in the woods, gardening, hunting, skiing. My childhood has been full of nature for as long as I can remember, and I’ve always loved it. However, my childhood may have been unusual in this sense. Over the past six decades, humanity (especially children) has shifted away from nature and towards an urban, digital lifestyle. This has led us to disconnect from an evolutionarily fundamental part of ourselves, and is bad for individuals, and for the environment itself.

In the 2008 Recreation Participation Report (which measures, by means of survey, how many people in the US participate in outdoor activities at least annually), there was an 11% decline in how many kids (ages 6-12) spend time outdoors. That’s staggering. I know it may sound like statistics and meaningless numbers, but that 11% stands for millions of children who are spending their childhood indoors. They’re not experiencing the sounds of wind blowing through the trees, or catching frogs, or lying in the grass watching the stars. 

We aren’t in the beginning phases of this issue.  No, we’re actually approximately 60 years in, according to a study by Pelin and Selin Kesebir. These two women went through the most popular media from 1950 to 2010, including categories like movies, music, and novels, and tested each of them for nature-related words (from a list of 186). Their idea was that, generally, the most popular media should reflect what is most important to people. What they found was revealing: mentions of nature showed a rapid trend of decline over the course of those 60 years. 

Okay, you may be thinking, sure. People aren’t super into nature anymore. They don’t want to hear about it as much in music and stuff. Why does it matter? Well, here’s the thing: humans didn't develop to live indoors. We were animals who lived outdoors for far longer than we’ve been “civilized people.” So, the outdoors is actually beneficial for us health-wise, and there are countless studies that say so. A few examples of those benefits are reduced stress, lowered blood pressure, accelerated recovery from surgery and illness, improved sleep and energy levels, and happier people. You have better brain function and will be more able to adapt to change.

Remember the last time you sent someone flowers while they were in the hospital? Those are actually proven to help people recover faster. I’ve found that biking to and from places is a wonderful way to wind down from whatever I was doing, and that sitting outside and watching the clouds for a few minutes is a perfect way to destress before I start my homework. I never feel better or healthier than when I spend a weekend mostly outdoors. I encourage you to try it: by the second day of walking in the park or swimming or sitting under a tree, you’ll feel clean and even oddly energized. It’s incredible how much a little time in the sun or under the clouds can do for you. 

However, there’s a more pressing reason we need to be exposing children (and people in general) to the outdoors: our environment is crumbling. Every single day, we lose somewhere between 40 and 100 species. Every second, we lose an acre of rainforest. Just in the next 24 hours, 15 million tons of carbon dioxide will go into the atmosphere. It’s going to take the effort of billions of people to stop the catastrophe we’ve brought upon ourselves, and we may still be too late. But this planet is all we have, and if we don’t manage to save it, we’re going to watch the world around us die.

If the trend we’ve observed here continues, and fewer and fewer people develop some kind of a relationship with nature, the same people may feel less motivated to defend it. When people aren’t connected to something, they don’t feel as urgent a need to fight for it when it’s in danger. If people don’t understand where their fish comes from or love the feeling of salt on their skin, they’re less likely to feel inclined to fight to keep the oceans clean. If kids never fall in love with the stars and sky, why would they grow up to want to fight to keep their skies clear? Without the knowledge of all the different things the outdoors has to offer, why would anyone fight to stop global warming? It doesn’t take much: a walk in the park every now and then, where you can run your fingers over the rough texture of tree bark. A couple minutes of stargazing, cloud watching. Pausing, for just a second, to breathe in the cool zip of wintertime, the humid air of the summer, or the wet scent of fresh rain. Allow yourself just a moment, every now and then, to appreciate what our earth can give to us. 

In the past 60 years, people have distanced themselves more and more from nature, and it’s hurting not only them, but also the planet around them. Please go spend some time outside. Build a relationship with the earth we all live on, and let your desire to protect it flourish. We have so much work to do, but it’s a start. If you can do nothing else, take a step outside and marvel, just for a moment, at how perfect this planet is. You may not have much time left.

“FAQ’s About Maine’s Forests.” Forests for Maine’s Future. http://www.forestsformainesfuture.org/forest-facts/.

“Immerse Yourself in a Forest for Better Health.” New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. https://www.dec.ny.gov/lands/90720.html.

"Outdoor Recreation Participation Report 2008." The Outdoor Foundation, 2008. https://outdoorindustry.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/ResearchParticipation2008.pdf.  

Egan, Timothy. “Nature-Deficit Disorder.” Opinionator, March 29, 2012. https://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/03/29/nature-deficit-disorder/.

Kesebir, Selin, and Pelin Kesebir. “How Modern Life Became Disconnected from Nature.” Greater Good, September 20, 2017.  https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/how_modern_life_became_disconnected_from_nature.

Louv, Richard. “No More ‘Nature-Deficit Disorder.’” Psychology Today, January 28, 2009. http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/people-in-nature/200901/no-more-nature-deficit-disorder.

Orr, David. “What Is Education For?” The Learning Revolution, Winter 1991. https://www.eeob.iastate.edu/classes/EEOB-590A/marshcourse/V.5/V.5a%20What%20Is%20Education%20For.htm.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Olivia Bailey explores our relationship with nature in modern times. 

Detachment

Nargis Kachrumathur

My relationship with nature has always been an odd one; sometimes I appreciate its beauty and benefits, while sometimes I despise things about it. 

Mostly I’m in awe of it, baffled by the many phenomena one can see in it, and constantly wondering why things happen the way they do in the ecosystems of the world. We don’t follow any religious practices or cultural beliefs in my household as such, but the kinds of media, books, and places my parents expose me to have inculcated a natural connection with nature in me. Growing up, I have heard many stories and watched many movies in which nature is a big part and grown to learn that we should handle it with extreme caution and care, as it is the main reason we are alive today. 

From the very beginning, I have been surrounded by nature, both at home and in school. I live on a campus that is blooming with a variety of flora and fauna. It is also home to many animals and wildlife that people don’t notice or take the time to appreciate very often. At school, we have different kinds of trees and birds everywhere. Sunlight is always welcome in our classrooms, and everybody enjoys playing out in the open, surrounded by nature. Whenever I go to the beach or take a road trip in the mountains, the fresh air and beautiful views enrapture me and give me a sense of freedom and liberty. From fairytales, princess movies, books and Disney, to real stories about children who live in the rural parts of India, preeminent novels, and documentaries, nature is one thing I always see depicted as peaceful and calming. In many books and movies I watched in my early years, I saw nature depicted as a “friend,” life-giving and serene. Things involving animals mostly spoke about helping, care-giving, and gentleness. 

In school, we learned how ecosystems work, and how all the biotic and abiotic factors are interdependent. This kind of harmony and connection made me realise that destroying one thing in an ecosystem will invariably lead to the destruction of other organisms, because they are all reliant on one another. The mindset of having to preserve and protect nature has always stuck with me, as I know the importance of safe-guarding it, and that its conservation is beneficial to humans also.

I’ve grown up to always feel at ease when I’m around nature, be it basking in the warmth of the sun shining in my face, or staring up at twinkling stars on a cool, clear night. Being outside, near trees and plants, watching squirrels dart after each other, frisking through the short, soft blades of grass in my gardens, always helps soothe me. Even when I’m in a rage or upset, I always go outside to clear my head and calm down. When I was young, I used to help my mother water the plants, or pick tomatoes and lemons. Now, as I’ve become older, even the teenage movies and shows I watch or the coming-of-age books I read are linked to nature in the same way many of the things I watched and read in my childhood did. The characters seek solace in places like the beach, or in the woods, or anywhere outside where they can be alone with just nature. 

Many of my friends have much less exposure to nature than I do, mostly because they live in apartments and don’t get out of the house to play or walk very often. Where I live, there aren’t any parks that block out the hubbub of the city or the noise of traffic. The neighborhoods are also polluted, and not very well maintained. Another reason for my peers’ lack of involvement with nature is devices and technology, which are so addictive that everyone has their eyes glued to them.

However, there are a few things I dislike about nature, like how unpredictable it can be at times, or how it forces me to step outside my comfort zone. When I have been on treks or hikes, there have been many situations where I had to adapt to my environment, and that meant doing new things and taking leaps of faith when I didn’t know what was going to happen. The main reason I’m hesitant or anxious in these situations is that nature never fails to surprise me, and there are always new things or dangers that I could encounter. This fear of nature’s unpredictability is something I have yet to overcome but am slowly making progress on.

My parents haven’t ever taught me any of these things, they never told me how to interact with the things around me, but the way they raised me has automatically helped me bond with nature and living organisms, teaching me to treat everything as equal and with kindness. 

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Nargis Kachrumathur explains how books, movies, and her experiences have shaped her relationship to nature.

The Nature in Me

Dylan Zhang

As I looked down on the stone overhang, sharp rocks littered the ground at the foot of the huge ancient wall. 

The rocks’ sharp edges were directly pointed at the sky, as if they were waiting for me. I saw a small stone falling off the wall not far away, gaining speed, only to be crushed to pieces on a big rock in the deep valley. My legs started feeling wobbly, and my heart was pounding fast against my chest. A pang of fear was quickly expanding in my stomach. No one could survive a fall of that magnitude.

That day I went with my classmates to climb the Great Wall of China in Jin Shan Ling on the outskirts of Beijing. I had heard this section of the Great Wall was one of the most treacherous. We were sixth graders from Hong Kong International School, now doing a field trip to explore Beijing’s culture, and the Great Wall was part of it. The tour guide said the climb would be very hard and challenging, but knowing that tour guides tended to exaggerate the sights and scenes, I expected it to be basically just like the stairs and ramps I climbed at our tall school building every day. I wasn’t too excited about climbing it for four hours. 

After getting off the tour bus, I saw the Great Wall was a small line cowering on the ridges of the rolling mountain. In order to climb onto it, my classmates and I first had to trek through about one mile of mountain road to get there. I thought that was too big a hassle just to climb this wall. Arriving at the ridge's foot, I found that the part we were about to get on was in disrepair, some steps and stairs destroyed and broken, with some small stones tumbling down the sides. Looking on further, I saw a huge structure towering above the trees around it. Steep steps led the way slowly to watchtowers, each higher and higher than the one before it. Then I started to wonder if this trip to the Great Wall would be a challenge. 

My friends and I struggled through broken bricks and stones to climb onto the Great Wall. Standing on the wall, I looked around and saw strange holes along the sides of the battlement wall. I asked our tour guide what they were, and he said that the holes were used for shooting arrows. Then I looked up and was amazed by the length of the wall. There were some other people far ahead of us, and they looked like ants crawling on a slab of stone. The tour guide told us that the Great Wall was about 20 thousand kilometers long, stretching from Liaodong in east China to Lop Lake in the west. The earliest part of the wall was built in the seventh century BC, and the major part was built in the Ming dynasty around the 17th century.  

I asked myself how ancient Chinese people were able to build this monstrosity and smiled at the thought of overcoming the challenge of climbing it. While climbing, I looked around at the mountains below me, wondering what it was like to build this wall. Ancient Chinese soldiers and laborers had no machines, no mechanical equipment to help them out at all, just their hands, wits, and strength. I remembered reading an article saying that many people died carrying giant stones and bricks up the mountain. Pulling myself up the steps of the steep wall, I felt as if I could hear the screams and cries from the laborers of ancient China, as they carried breathtakingly heavy stones up a mountain. Looking at the shooting hole in the battlement wall, I could almost see the soldiers’ shaking hands as they shot arrow after arrow at the enemy, knowing they could die any minute. But my thoughts were soon driven away by the exhaustion of walking up the rocky and uneven stairs as I started to focus on my legs. 

The path in front of me was uneven and jagged, and there were no parapet and battlement walls on either side. If one were to trip and fall, one would fall completely off the Great Wall. I forced myself to not look down, or else I could become nauseous and might risk falling off into the deep valley. I slowly made my way up, desperate to reach the highest watchtower of this section. But I looked ahead of me and saw that I had a long way to go before even seeing the top. Just before I gave up, I remembered a quote from a famous Chinese figure, saying “He who doesn’t reach the Great Wall is no hero.”  So I clenched my jaw and moved my legs, despite the screaming pain from exhaustion. After what seemed like days, I started to see the last couple of steps leading up to the peak of the wall. I forced my legs to keep moving and not to collapse on themselves. Finally, I scrambled to the top, and I felt like the whole world was at my fingertips. 

Now standing on the highest watchtower, I saw the city of Beijing far away; it looked like a miniature toy city. Seen from up here, the Great Wall looked like a giant snake slithering all over the mountains. No trees or weeds could grow above the wall. I saw colors all around me from trees slowly shedding their leaves, as if they were giving up the fight to grow higher. I scanned the horizon to see a small village nestled between two mountains. Several birds were soaring through the sky about five meters above me, chirping happily, unafraid of any sudden noises that would have scared them away in the city. There was peace and quiet up here, no tourists screaming for pictures, no rumbling of cars, just me and my classmates. I looked up again, and saw the clear blue sky beckoning to me, fresh air entering my nostrils, the gentle breeze blowing away my gloomy mood from the city smog. I closed my eyes and I could almost smell the air of ancient bricks, stones, and falling leaves, a smell not yet contaminated by street dust and automobile emissions.  Now standing here, I forgot all the pain in my legs from what seemed like the longest hike ever. I had just conquered one of the most dangerous parts of the Great Wall. That thought seemed so bizarre that I started to think it might not even be true. But I shook myself and said, “Dylan, you did it.” 

As I started to go down, I felt proud of myself and my classmates for clenching our jaws and not giving up. Looking around, I saw tons of sweat dripping off their faces, but they were all still smiling and laughing. I wondered how the ancient Chinese workers felt when they finally finished building this monumental structure. This climb, as tough as it was, made me feel like a hero that I had never imagined myself to be. Now I felt I could accomplish any tough challenge in the future, as long as I put my heart and mind to it. I looked ahead at the far away steps leading down to the exit and thought, “Easy, Peasy.”

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Dylan Zhang shares an incredible experience climbing the Great Wall of China. 

On the Highest Watchtower

Abdullah Sayed

Sparkling waves crashed against the side of the ferry as I peered over the edge of the vessel. 

It was my first time on a ferry. A brisk breeze, characteristic of early spring, cut through my jacket. A bell soon began to toll, and the boat started to dock. Along with dozens of others, I leaned over the railing and watched the shore grow closer. My boots were soon splashing in a shallow puddle, the first steps I had ever taken on Governors Island. I would find that this day was to contain many firsts. 

My biology teacher’s brief description of the Billion Oyster Project (BOP) had been instantly intriguing. Up until that point, all I had associated with oysters were pearls. The notion they could play some critical role in our environment sparked my curiosity. Following a BOP organizer deeper into the island, I remembered the promise I had made to my teacher to give the program a chance. “Here I am,” I thought. The next few hours were as educational as they were inspirational. The BOP has an ambitious goal. By 2035 it hopes to add one billion live oysters to the New York Harbor ecosystem. 

Oysters, as I learned that day, play an important role in the marine environment as a keystone species. As filter feeders, a single oyster is capable of cleaning up to 50 gallons of water a day. They are also essential to nutrient cycling, habitat structure, and food webs of environments in which they occur. The New York Harbor has for decades been a nearly lifeless and revoltingly polluted body of water. The BOP aims to turn it into the thriving ecosystem it once was by taking cues from a highly successful program down south in the Chesapeake Bay, the Oyster Recovery Partnership. 

The BOP building housed tanks full of animals caught in the harbor. I gazed at the oysters, fish, seahorses, and starfish in wonder. Who knew the shores of our grimey old city could sustain animals like this? I eagerly anticipated working with these little creatures, but the organizers had other ideas for us. The volunteers were escorted to a dingy room filled with wire sheets and various tools. As the organizer explained what we would be doing with these materials, my face fell. Once we got started, within minutes my hands grew sore and calloused, and after several hours of assembling oyster cages I was sure I would not come back after the day’s end. 

This was the color of my thoughts when the organizers called all the volunteers to the shore. Two men wearing orange vests sat in a dinghy at the boat launch ramp. “You guys did a fantastic job today, and we thought we would show you exactly what you were working for.” One by one the volunteers joined the orange-clad men for a short trip around the shore. When it was my turn, I gingerly stepped onto the boat, hoping to get it over with quickly. Several hundred feet away from the island, one of the men pointed to a dark shape underneath the water. My eyes widened as I recognized it. Dozens, no hundreds, of cages of oyster shells, formed an expansive body, the end of which was obscured by the muddy water. Each shell was implanted with, according to the men, oyster larvae, ready to grow and become a part of the harbor. The throbbing of my callouses suddenly became pleasant as I realized the impact we were having. 

As it would turn out, I went back to Governors Island several times over the course of months, eventually doing everything from building additional gabions, or oyster shelters, to gathering shells for the implantation of oyster larvae. 

There were several important lessons I learned from my experiences. For one thing, volunteering at the BOP deepened my understanding of what it means to volunteer or work for the direct benefit of others. Going out of my way to help the BOP proved to be an enriching experience that I could never have imagined. I was able to explore Governors Island, a place that was at the time closed to the public. My knowledge of the marine biology in our very city was enhanced through direct observation. I met new people and saw new places and things. I would not have experienced any of this if I had not decided to take the day to help out at the BOP. The lesson I learned from this, therefore, is that though the reason for helping others should be for others’ gain, oftentimes we ourselves, the helpers, benefit just as much. 

My time with the BOP also made me challenge the relationship I thought I had with safekeeping our environment. My favorite activities are mountain biking and hiking and I have a deep appreciation for the natural world. The BOP taught me that caring for our planet does not mean becoming the next Greta Thunberg. When our adversaries are as formidable as greenhouse gas emissions, pollution, and deforestation, it is easy to feel helpless. What can any one person do? However, it is important to realize that local efforts like the BOP, small as they may seem, are exactly the kinds of solutions we need to make sure our natural treasures remain intact for generations to come. 

As a New Yorker, I am proud to be a part of a cause that helps my local community and environment. It is gratifying to know that I am making a difference where I can.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Abdullah Sayed reflects on what he learned from volunteering for the Billion Oyster Project in New York City's harbor.

A Billion and One Reasons to Volunteer

Aditya Naik

Climate change is real. Living in today’s society makes me feel like doomsday isn't too far away. Comparing the earth today with the Pride Lands of The Lion King, don't you think we, the humans, are Scar?

 What if I said there's a movie that makes you feel nostalgic, gives you goosebumps, and takes you on a rollercoaster ride? You will surely want to sit back, maybe in a recliner, and grab some popcorn and cola, right? The Lion King is a perfect blend of everything I have mentioned above, and you witness it right from the very first scene. 

If you've watched The Lion King of 1994, the plot is pretty much the same. Every bit of the story is carefully thought out and well executed. Millennials? You will love to watch your own Lion King with much of the detail and plot unchanged from the original. It'll probably make you feel nostalgic. It starts with a fantastic opening scene. Simba, the son of Mufasa the king and Sarabi the queen, is born and introduced to the kingdom of the Pride Lands in Africa. A kingdom ruled by lions, it is magnificent! Beauty and brilliance are uncommon, but the Pride Lands are an exception. They are both scenic and well-governed. The plot basically revolves around how Scar, Simba's uncle and Mufasa's brother, threatens this harmony because of his aims to sit on the throne. 

In terms of the direction, I must say Jon Favreau has done an excellent job. To all those who have watched The Jungle Book, this movie will give a similar touch. Disney has tried to create pictographic images of the animated characters. Everything is extremely realistic, and if someone unaware of the technology watched the movie, he or she might think the animals were alive. However, this technology limits the facial expressions of the animals. Scar, the antagonist, is fierce but isn't very scary. In one tragic scene, Simba doesn't expressively convey his feeling of sorrow. To fully understand how computer-generated imagery (CGI) works, I studied a few reports by the Los Angeles Times, Vox, and Insider. I found out that almost every scene is shot with the help of CGI. However, there is actually one that is not computer-generated; the director wanted the audience to figure it out. The animators worked for 77 million hours on the film, according to Insider. I found certain scenes especially realistic because of the tiniest movements of the animals’ ears. Also, when the winds are strong, every hair moves. I feel the direction is precise, and the animators’ efforts are reflected in the movie.

Then, let’s consider the cinematography. Well, Caleb Deschanel has shot exceptional angles and used great lighting for the movie. In one particularly powerful, spiritual scene, the cameras and lighting take depictions of clouds and sky to a different level. No stone is left unturned in terms of recreating nature. There are some scenes that make you wish you could go there; in one instance, during Simba’s stay in the jungle, the scenery looks so pure and attractive. Graceful waterfalls, widespread greenery, butterflies: everything is so ravishing that you feel connected with it. Also, when Scar ruins Simba’s homeland, and trees and brooks are reduced to nil, you deeply regret what has happened. Don't you think the same is happening with our Earth? This planet was once a utopia. The earth always provided the best possible things to its kids and it was such an amazing place to be! Now, with excessive human civilization and our desire to rule the world, things are going in the opposite direction. Nobody, not even Scar, was able to overpower nature forever. The same will happen to us. 

Music? Who doesn't like music? If there's someone who doesn't like it, he or she must listen to the album of The Lion King. Hans Zimmer executes the effects and background music. Seth Rogen, Beyonce, and all the other singers have nailed it. My personal favorite is the song “Hakuna Matata,” and I also enjoyed “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?”. “Hakuna Matata” is more cheerful, while the latter relaxes your soul. The music touches nature in every way, and the background effects, especially those of the elephant sounds and hyenas, are realistic. I did find on Insider that sound actors were recorded while walking and acting in a black box theater. The artists got to move and, of course, every voice suits its character. The voice of Mufasa (James Earl Jones) is deep and powerful. When he speaks, you feel like a strong and dynamic ruler is speaking. I loved Zazu's voice (John Oliver), too. It is perfect for the little but wise bird.

Overall, I rate this movie 3.5 out of 5 stars. No movie is perfect, and this one has pros and cons, too. I had to rate it a little lower because of the facial movements of the animals. Still, the movie is awesome and connects you with nature. You feel sad when Scar destroys everything. It makes you think: Aren't we humans doing the same? We are Scar, and the hyenas are the scientific advancements that are disturbing nature and our ecosystem. I don't mean to say that every scientific advancement is harming nature, but a lot of them do. We need a Simba and an entire pride of many such lions who will stand together to fight for a greener future. Let's become the new pride of lions. Let's become Simba and build a better world for all.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Aditya Naik shares his take on the 2019 movie The Lion King.

Are We Scar?

Keesha Joseph

She walks in valleys of flowers and dreams,
In the avenue of sunshine and flickering beams.
She guides the lost with the sound of the birds,
The howls, the meowls — all in one herd.

She feasts on the happiness of those all around,
Freeing the prisoners of all that they’re bound.
Sprinkling the goodness of life in the air,
She breathes out the wonders that bring up a flare.

She holds on tight to the vast Universe,
Fighting back all of the world’s curse.
Being the mother of all humankind,
She has a loving and caring nature combined.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Keesha Joseph offers an ode to Mother Nature.

Mère

Lucy Liversidge

If I had enough trees
To house all the birds I’ve ever seen
I would love that
And I’d tell the koalas in the next room over
Of the view and allow them visiting hours
Through an uneven cut-out in the wall
Between the penguins and every species of iguana

When does the painted donkey become
A zebra?
In whatever state, his life lasts
Only as long as the poet’s attention
Until everyone wears out
He can ride on my back 
Or maybe on the back of the snake
In the basement
Who is learning how to brush
Out his eyebrows and fold his skin
After shedding

Maybe this is what your servant felt
On the big wooden boat he built
Obediently 
Prophesying about the end of the world
And taking with him only what was important
To G-d and to fertile land
So that after the inevitable flood
We can all go back to lunging at
Or loving each other
In the meantime, I pray for rain

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Lucy Liversidge offers a vision of nature inspired by the story of Noah's ark. 

Prayer for Rain

Gustavo Ramos

Quietly growing, a tree
Slowly walking, a deer
Peacefully swimming, a fish
But then…

A loud chainsaw starts its engine
An arrow is being prepared
A boat makes its way through the river
And finally…

The tree has fallen to the ground
Two fawns have lost their mother
And the fish has been captured
Now I wonder…

What’s the point of growing?
What’s the point of walking?
What’s the point of swimming?
When there’s no chance to care
To let them be, to let them live

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Gustavo Ramos contemplates the repercussions of human development on wildlife. 

Human Activity

Pragya Natarajan

A mountain looms ahead, a dangerous fate, chosen all by himself. 

The fruitful spring, lasting well into a golden summer. The crisp autumn, filled with working hard for nutrition in the cold air. And the imposing, possibly cruel, winter. One penknife, a ball of cord, an ax, flint and steel, and 40 dollars are all Sam Gribley chooses to have as he ventures into the wilderness.

Have you ever wanted to run away from your home for a taste of independence? At some point in their life, everyone has. The book My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George captures the essence of this desire. Throughout his childhood, Sam has wanted to go to a property in the wilderness his great-grandfather is rumored to have. With the appropriate tools, knowledge of edible plants and traps for animals, and confidence, he finds the Gribley property and sets up a small campsite. The Gribley property is in the Catskill Mountains, near the city of Delhi, New York. Sam is able to go there to buy essentials, and to the library to read up on how to make items in the midst of nature.

What Sam isn’t aware of is how difficult living in such conditions will be. With many incidents, he eventually learns how to use his observational skills and knowledge to survive. Along the way, he sets up a home in the hollow of a tree and becomes friends with Baron the weasel and Frightful the falcon, the latter of which he trains to catch prey for him. These conditions force him to learn important life skills, such as how to be prepared for the unknown. 

As a reader, I found this a refreshing book to open, as it has a plot that can be enjoyed by all ages, being neither too emotion-packed or bland. However, I would only rate this book 3.5 out of 5 stars, because of unrealistic loopholes in the plot. I’m not a parent, but if I were, I would alert the cops about a missing child and not allow the child to stay in the wild for an entire year. Sam could have starved, been killed by predators, and more; yet, this book ignores all these possibilities.

Plot holes aside, the overall themes of the book tend to shine throughout the story and make it a pleasant read that leaves you happy and satisfied, until the end. The end wakes you up and makes you ponder how it relates to the rest of the story, which is when you begin to notice how much the character has matured, as well as how humans impact the environment. Humans are hurting nature and disturbing it, for we tend to continuously abuse our surroundings. Sam’s adventure shows that maybe he can coexist with nature, but the conclusion of this story shows that humans, in general, tend to be destructive, unless we put a stop to overconsumption of our resources, starting with the end of deforestation. The ending of this book is open for interpretation, since it can also be seen as a display of how much family and human companionship means. Sam does start desiring human company, and realizes how much he misses it as he starts to try to converse with people hiking in the area. 

When reporters do come to him, he learns the value of nature’s isolation. Isolation, and the silence that ensues, can teach lasting lessons. I would genuinely love to go camping again, perhaps alone, for during a science camp in fifth grade and my trip to Yosemite in eighth, the silent moments were rich in value. They opened my eyes to a world outside my bubble. Unlike Sam, I wasn’t isolated, but I would like to be, because not only did he learn of the world of the woods, he acquired something more valuable than all the most precious elements in the world: independence.

A pleasant and engaging tone allows the reader to enjoy the story as one would enjoy a folktale. What stands out to me in this book are the descriptions of the meals Sam creates in the wilderness. They become more rich in detail and components throughout the book, inadvertently showing how much more responsible he becomes as time progresses. They seem quite unnecessary at times, but really bring out a dimension of the story that reminds the reader that Sam Gribley is a human who requires nourishment. For example, he describes a meal of "fluffy mashed cattail tubers, mushrooms and dogtooth bulbs, smothered in gravy thickened with acorn powder. Each plate had a pile of soaked and stewed honey locust beans mixed with hickory nuts.” These wild plants bring another layer of realism to this book. This is one of many intricacies highlighted in the story which make it seem plausible. Not many metaphors or senses are used to visualize the meal, but the increasing detail and how complex the food becomes say it all. The earlier meals are simpler, but this meal is towards the end and much more elaborate, showing the character becoming more adept in living in the wild. The plants mentioned are real edible plants you can prepare the same way he did. This helps the reader imagine exactly what their life would be like if they lived in the woods.

Sam is a well-rounded character who does what everyone aspires to do, and does it stubbornly no matter what the hardships. He thinks of going home sometimes when times get difficult, but perseveres and makes a stable life in the wild, to the point where his family comes to him. Even though there are obvious problems, this book is an essential read with its lovable main character and his steely will.

In a KidSpirit Media review, Pragya Natarajan gives her take on Jean Craighead George's classic young adult novel My Side of the Mountain.

The Numerous Sides of a Mountain

Melani Leon

Into the forest I go
Sadness surrounds me
The wind whispers in my ear
“It's alright”
The tall trees are like skyscrapers
Wandering around the forest
Lost in my thoughts
Asking myself how do I get out of here?

How can I leave the forest of loneliness?

Out of the forest I go
Butterflies flying, flowers blooming
The sun is bright and warm
But the world is black and blue
Where people like me face reality
Deeper and deeper
Into the forest I go

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Melani Leon ventures into the forest.

Out of the Lonely Forest I Go

Abraham Weitzman

It is a big world with gentle breezes, crashing waves, steep rock faces, and fluffy snow banks. Exposure to the wonders of nature makes life rich. 

Whether climbing Longs Peak or hiking the Grand Canyon in the summer, the outdoors offer challenges for the body and spirit. Identifying with the land or the water is part of many cultures. Time alone in the forest is restorative. But what if you cannot get there, because you use a wheelchair? It may seem impossible, but with the right accommodations, wheelchair users can go anywhere. 

The ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act, passed in 1990) requires that new constructions be accessible to people with disabilities. The majority of natural places are not built environments. If wheelchair users want to climb a mountain or surf the waves, the ADA will only get you so far, literally. The base of the mountain may have wide, flat trails, but they only get you close enough to see the steep, winding trails that lead to the top. Wheelchair paths will get you to the ocean, but they stop at the high tide mark. From there you can watch the waves. To get closer to nature, people with disabilities need help.

Help comes from people and equipment. In each person's situation, the needs are different, and so is the assistance.

Horseback riding goes places wheels cannot go. Horse trails can be rocky, muddy, or even cross a river. With a horse, the backcountry is open to anyone who calls a saddle a seat. For some who need more support, there are saddles with backs and padding. All of this requires very special horses trained by very special people. The Cochetopa Horsemanship in Crested Butte gave me and my family a day of horsemanship lessons. We learned how to care for horses, feeding them, brushing their coats, and cleaning their hooves. We learned to ride and direct the horses so that, with their help, nature's expanse could be mine to experience. I could feel the wind, smell the trees, and hear nothing but horse hooves and rustling leaves.

It may be possible to be completely alone if you have the right technology for the environment. It starts with the right wheels for your chair and the right equipment for your van. On four good wheels, there are lots of places to go. I have an ATV with fat tires and a beach chair with huge tires. Six wheels or tracks, with a motor, can get even farther off the paved road. These chairs combine power with traction, like an excavator on a construction site. You also need a vehicle with a ramp and hand controls to get you to the trail head or the beach. The equipment is made by non-disabled people, providing help to unknown outdoors lovers.

The muscles required for the most challenging natural adventures usually include quads and hamstrings. If you want to ski and you typically get around with a wheelchair, you are going to need a sit-ski and some help getting on and off the lift. If your strength and coordination are diminished, you will need three strong skiers that are trained as adaptive ski coaches. With the right people and equipment, you can enjoy the snowy undulations. I ski in a bi-ski, a bucket seat with two skis on the bottom and two mini outrigger skis. The ski is tethered to the lead instructor to keep my speed under control. The instructors at the Adaptive Sports Foundation make it feel like I'm racing down the mountain on my own. I may not be alone, but I feel alone.

Surfing may seem impossible, but with Surf for All, people with disabilities aren't just onlookers. They have boards with seats and instructors who can hold you as you use a traditional board. I hated the water in my face while paddling out, but when the instructor stood me up, we rode the wave together. It was thrilling and deeply calming at the same time.

Nature is a sensory experience. It can be intense, like roaring waterfalls, or calm, like a field of wildflowers. No matter the environment, there is a main focus away from other people and toward solitude. This gives us a chance to slow down and reflect, even if you are flying down a mountain.

It is difficult for a person with severe disabilities to be truly alone, because we need so much help. Alone without company does not mean lonely to me. It means the solitude I crave. Making solitude possible relies on the right people and equipment. It is good to have family and friends who can be quiet. People who never stop talking do not leave space for silence. Chatting around the campfire is undoubtedly fun, but only in silence can we feel alone with nature. Then there is room for the auditory landscape of bullfrogs, coquis, and crickets.

In the woods, the senses are heightened by the quiet. Without the stimuli of vehicles, screens, and people, the mind has room to take in smaller stellar experiences. Smelling the spring rain or leaves decaying turns my attention during a hike. Hearing low puttering chipmunks makes me look for the place the seeds are stored for winter. Seeing the log rotting makes me wonder about the tiny bugs living in the crevices. Thinking about all of the life in the forest reminds me of how big nature is and that I am part of it. My disability is irrelevant. Staring at the stars in the sky, I am tiny, just like everyone else. 

In everyone's life there are limits. Having a disability makes life more challenging, but challenges are not limits. Challenges are opportunities to try new things, to see perspectives of others, and to open yourself to experiences that were imagined. As any surfer, skier, or hiker will tell you, some conditions are more challenging than others, it is good to have a buddy, and the right equipment makes all the difference. Physical ability is only one part of enjoying nature. It is the ability to find connection and peace with the earth that I treasure.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Abraham Weitzman how wheelchair users and others with disabilities can enjoy the solitude and adventure of nature.

Alone, Thanks to a Team

Pahal Bhasin

At 5:00 am, the sun rises, and so does my fear.
I walk out and chills run down my spine,
The leaves are filled with water,
Which people call “dew,” but I call tears,
The sky is dense with spirits,
Hiding the vastness of the blue sky, a place to wander.
The dull heavens fill with a ball of flaming gases,
Too bright to see, too hot to touch, too dangerous to imagine.
The breeze harshly blows the dead leaves and shakes me.
I quickly run inside,
Fear eats my mind,
My brain is a nervous wreck,
Every part of nature scares me.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Pahal Bhasin shares the fear and terror she feels when faced with the dangers of nature.

Fear

Jazmín Montiel

Nature. When I think about this word, this world of wildlife, it means the most comprehensively beautiful and joyful gift that we have. 

It offers us a protective layer that guards us against all kinds of damages and harms; it provides us everything we need to live. We are not capable of surviving without nature, no matter what we do to try to change that fact. 

I have experienced numerous moments when I appreciated Mother Nature, which were made possible by the company of my community. My community is an international scouts association, which leads youth to discover nature and to learn to construct a better place based on its laws and scouts promises. The time I most understood the huge value and the essence of this magnificent creation was when I visited the waterfalls of Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil. We took this trip together to explore and learn more about the falls while being with other members of the community from other countries.  

Before the start of the tour, we entered the park on a bus, far from the town, and the guide told us we were going to walk on the path to get to the falls. At that moment, I did not know how it was going to be! But I was more than excited, so I thought I would not feel exhausted at all. As I passed through the landscape, there were trees and plants everywhere I looked; it really made me feel like I was in a jungle, with all those plants and all that greenery. Nature totally surrounded the area. The left sections of the rocks were covered with vines, and under the path there were big trees and small waterfalls until we reached the main attraction: the waterfalls of Iguaçu. 

When I finally got to the big landscape, I was stunned by the fresh smell. It was definitely worth the entire hard, long hike. We could clearly see its wide stretch of 1.7 miles and 200 feet, which makes the Iguaçu Falls taller than Niagara Falls and twice as wide, or at least that was what the guide told us. We got to the end of the path, which was a platform that goes near the falls, close enough to make us feel fresh and feel the water splash near us. I was too amazed by the view; I could see birds flying around the area, as the water hit the rocks and dropped to the other side. You could see the falls in every direction. It looked as beautiful as those postcards you see at a store. But this was real life. 

While touring this magical, unique place, I realized how many miracles nature does for us and how we do not appreciate it enough. This moment was a great example of what nature can do: all these happy, smiling people enjoying the great panorama, chatting, and appreciating the moment.

So, with all that in view, the experience at Iguaçu made me feel calm, comfortable, connected, and incredibly happy. It was so different from my usual environment. The falls felt fresh, like clean air, and relaxing. Meanwhile, my city is loud and overwhelming. All those factors made me think and question myself. If we love nature so much, why don't we take good care of it? As I thought deeper, with the help of my community, I understood everything better. Nature is an important and integral part of us, humankind. It is one of the greatest blessings of human life. However, these days, humans fail to recognize it as one. Nature has been an inspiration for numerous poets, writers, and artists. We like when we have everything put together for us, we like when it's clean, pure, and ready for us to enjoy. We just don't take the initiative to make a better place for Mother Nature. 

Since that experience, I told all my friends about it and began re-thinking my actions and trying to do better for nature, so my community can have a place where they can feel what I felt at the falls. I’ve been doing simple things like promoting recycling and helping with the cleaning of our areas. My community helped me be a better person by showing me the right ways to fulfill a healthier lifestyle by being kind to nature. I want to spread this idea to others by being involved and participating in talks about nature, to know how we can preserve it better and make other average people more interested in the idea.

What I learned from this magical experience is that nature is important for every single living creature. In order to conserve nature, we must take drastic steps right away to prevent any further damage. Nature is what makes us feel alive, and it is our duty to conserve it. We must stop selfish activities such as cutting trees down without planting more, burning garbage, overusing plastic materials, and throwing  trash everywhere, especially in preserved nature areas. 

Let's be better human beings and start doing what's right and best for our planet, because nature is what future generations will be holding onto forever. 

Let’s try our best to preserve the natural resources before it is too late, so life can forever be nourished on earth. Let’s keep cherishing what remains of the earth.

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Jazmin Montiel shares how a visit to the waterfalls of Foz do Iguaçu, Brazil, taught her to appreciate nature. 

Nature Never Goes Out of Style

Mia Ginsberg

Too many noises.
Voices and thoughts crowd my head.
I push them away,
They get louder.
Insistent.

And watch the inchworm crawl along the bark,
Stubbornly moving ever forward.
Listen to the bird
Singing a quiet melody,
For no one.
I look up and see
Yellow, orange, red
Leaves, never perfect.
Falling, gently.

And the crowded thoughts grow dim,
Tamed by the calm I see.
And I sit there,
And take a breath in the quiet woods.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Mia Ginsberg shares how the peaceful natural environment of the woods calms the worries and stress of everyday life.

Quiet

David George Haskell

Nature is not something outside ourselves. It’s not a wilderness somewhere beyond our homes.

What is nature? Our hands have an answer. Lift yours: look, a palm, thumb, five fingers. 

Rub your fingers together and feel the textures of skin. Sniff: a long inhale from the aromas on the back of the hand, then the palm. Listen to the friction of fingers on your earlobes. Taste the salty tang of fingertips.

So many sensory impressions. Each one speaks of nature. 

Nature is not something outside ourselves. It’s not a wilderness somewhere beyond our homes. Nature isn’t an alien or an “other.” We are Nature. 

This belonging takes many forms. The five digits of our hands and feet contain memories of ancient family history. We inherited our five fingers from the fleshy-finned fish that crawled onto land 400 million years ago. Some of these ancestors had seven or eight digits. If they had been the survivors instead of the five-toed ones, we’d be counting not in decades but by increments of 14 or 18. Remember that on your decadal birthday! When we see the architecture of our hand, we’re seeing that we belong to an ancient family lineage. The plan of our hand also connects us, through the family tree, to other vertebrate land animals. Birds, dogs, frogs – we all share a five-fingered blueprint, greatly modified in each branch of the family tree.

Our senses also have deep roots and unite us in kinship with other beings. A sense of touch and smell is shared by all life. Even simple single cells can feel physical touch and pick up the chemical aromas of their surroundings. Hearing is more specialized in each part of the family tree. The hair cells that pick up sound in our ears descended from the tiny hairs on the surface of single cells, like the planktonic cells that swim to this day in ocean and pond water. These hair cells also gave rise to our ability to see. The light-sensitive cells in our eyes are modified hairs, their tips no longer beating but welcoming light in their protruding arms. 

We are one part of an amazingly diverse genealogical tree. Part of our nature is to belong to this family.

Not all the family members are pleasant. Malarial cells and viruses are our kin, too, sickening us as they jump between hosts. Nature’s family – just like human families – is not free of danger or disease. But it is our home, our place of origin. Our challenge, then, is to find ways to heal its brokenness and help its vitality and goodness in the future.

Flex your hand muscles. Feel the delicious physicality of your fingers, their heft and presence. Here is another part of nature. Every part of us and every motion of our bodies is made from atoms that came from other beings. The oxygen that powers our hands and keeps our consciousness alive came from trees, grasses, and ocean plankton. Every action and thought is made from minerals in soil and the molecules of other animals and plants. Every bite of food is nature. This is true regardless of whether that food came from an industrial supply chain or from a windowsill planter of herbs. Human body, mind, emotion, and action are partly made of trees, ocean, soil, and the many living beings that sustain us.

Nature is evolutionary kinship. Nature is the ecological connection that sustains us.

Nature is also community. I gaze at my hands and think that I see an individual, a “self.” But this is an illusion. My skin is partly made of human cells, but also from dozens of species of bacteria. Without them, I’d sicken. The same is true of my gut. This living community is deeper still. The bacterial community of our mothers shaped us in the womb when we were growing embryos. We are walking communities. What seems like an individual body is an intersection of relationships among many species. Our nature, then, is of interconnection. This is true of other species, too. Tree leaves and roots function only through their deep connections to fungi and bacteria. Take away these connections and the plant withers. Even the microbes that live in the ocean – sometimes millions in a single drop – are networked into community. Each cell specializes on a task that it does best, relying on others for the rest of the essential work needed to stay alive. Nature is relationship.

We’re made from nature. But nature also far transcends our bodies. Before humans evolved, millions of species lived in the Earth’s forests, oceans, rivers, and grasslands. They made these habitats what they are today, building soil, creating richly varied physical spaces, and suffusing the world with nutrients. Hundreds of species live in a single drop of ocean water or scrap of soil. A single tree can host thousands of insect species and dozens of birds. There is more diversity in a small patch of urban parkland than any one person could know in a lifetime: tens of thousands of bacteria and fungi, hundreds of plants and animals. 

There’s a paradox here: nature is both about the most intimate kind of belonging and a community whose size and complexity we can never grasp. Nature is both a cozy home and a humbling vastness.

Despite the pollution and losses of habitat and species in the last centuries, much of the diversity of the living Earth persists and, if we allow it, will flourish long into the future. Nature is made from interconnection, and so our task is to find how to be productive members of life’s community. I suggest that a necessary first step is to recognize that nature isn’t some “other,” outside of us. Then, we can cultivate relationships in the human and beyond-human world. Get to know our extended family and community. 

What species live in our neighborhood? What people, forests, soils, and oceans do we connect with when we eat? What is beautiful and what is broken in these connections? Where might our work be helpful? Out of these lived relationships comes the knowledge of how to act. 

In a KidSpirit PerSpectives article, author and biologist David George Haskell shares the connections and relationships that nature weaves between all living things. 

Nature Is Kinship and Relationship

Izzy Weitzman

Note: This book contains adult themes, as well as an event that may trigger some survivors of sexual violence.

What do you do when what everyone else believes is morally wrong? In Beartown, Fredrik Backman explores this conundrum. 

It is a book about a small town in Sweden called Beartown, which has been down on its luck lately. The entire town revolves around a hockey team. Since Peter Andersson, now the general manager of the club, almost won the championship 20 years ago, there has been nothing good in the life of Beartown Hockey. Now, the junior hockey team is making a deep playoff run, led by superstar Kevin Erdhal. The story focuses on an ensemble cast, featuring the players and the people who support and interact with them. 

Beartown is surrounded by a forest that seals off the town from the outside world. It is a long drive anywhere outside the town, which prevents some characters from working elsewhere. The children play near the forest, and the hunters hunt in the same place. It features a lake the children skate on in winter. When she was young, Maya Andersson, Peter’s daughter, almost died falling through the ice. The forest constantly encroaches on the townsfolk. The common phrase used by the people states, “Bears shit in the woods, and everyone shits on Beartown.” The residents of Beartown struggle with many things, but the forest is a constant threat. This is not to say that the forest is always a problem. To some characters, nature is their safe haven from the rest of the world.

Nature is not the only setting in the novel. The other main location is the ice rink, in which the struggle of Kevin and the team is showcased. The team members and administration also struggle with balancing hockey excellence and time with their family and friends. The people of Beartown are lost in the world. The local political body has always said that the town is a top priority, but the people have been given nothing for years. They know that everything rides on the large hockey tournament. Every year, more people lose their jobs. The forest moves in, pushing them further into obscurity. 

Beartown is easily one of the best books I have read in the past year. It uses language the average high school student can read, but discusses themes important to all ages. That being said, I think the people who would most identify with the book are the relatives of very enthusiastic sports fans. The concept of the book is based on the questions: What will people do for their team? What does it mean when one’s core belief system is the good of their team? This can be a literal sports team, as in Beartown, or another organization that takes over one’s life. The family members of people in such situations will understand the conflict they see in their loved ones between doing the right thing and doing what’s good for the team. This book explores how that conflict affects the family unit.

Backman effortlessly tells a tale that features many different characters. His transitions are seamless. He includes a wide variety of characters, many of which I will not describe, due to spoiling the plot and for the sake of time. He manages to fit a full character in for all of them. Each has a set of complex beliefs and motives that influence how they act. Backman does all of this while simultaneously providing amazing background information, containing detail but not enough to make the description tedious. This goes for characters as well as locations. Many people in the book are unnamed and referred to by their occupation or relationship to the other characters. This gives the reader an easier time memorizing only a handful of names and makes the large cast possible. It also forces the reader to focus on the important characters. 

The plot reveals a lot about the people of Beartown, and by extension, many superfans around the world. Backman shows the social discourse about a particular event. It is both a complex issue and a very simple one. To anyone outside the book, there is only one response to the issue. But to the characters, there are many possible reactions. Each character does the “right thing,” but that means different things to different people. It says a lot about what people are willing to do for their town’s livelihood and the difference between what is best for the collective and what is best for each individual. 

While writing this review, I gave the book a slightly lower rating because of this discourse. While it was interesting, I thought Backman’s choice to include both sides was a little risky. This is not to say that Backman does not take a side. He shows his support for the morally correct argument by focusing on the characters with that point of view. This allows him to show how it feels when someone is ostracized for going against the grain. Backman makes every character’s opinion about the event known in the final 200 pages of the book, with room to spare for developing side plots. 

Backman's skill as a writer is exemplified in his ability to speed through a long plotline while making each part feel perfect. He tells both sides of a complicated story, but makes the morally correct answer more prevalent. Because of this, I decided to instead give Beartown a rating of five out of five. The book makes you hate the perpetrator of the crime and empathize with the victim, even if one has never been in a similar situation. It evokes strong feelings about the topic by showing how some people shrug it off as an “off-ice problem.” It’s no wonder that HBO Europe has allowed for the creation of a five part miniseries about Beartown. Beartown is a spectacular book, and everyone old enough to understand the plot should read it.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Izzy Weitzman reviews Fredrik Backman's novel Beartown.

 Beartown and Its Implications for Society

Michael Deschenes

My full name, Michael North Deschenes, happens to describe what I view as one of the most important parts of my identity. 

In French, deschenes means “of the oaks”; my name, then, can be taken as Michael of the Northern Woods, or something to that effect. The forests to the north, in Vermont, Maine, and Canada, are where I spent nine formative summers at my camp, Keewaydin, forging bonds and learning lessons only nature can teach. Because of how important these summers were in shaping my relationship to nature and humanity, I think the coincidence, my name’s description of the lands that have filled much of my childhood, powerfully characterizes who I am today.

In the summers from 2010 to 2018, I was a camper and Wilderness tripper at Keewaydin on Lake Dunmore, a rustic, all-boys sleepaway camp known for its hiking and canoeing trips. As campers get older, trips become longer, tougher, and more remote. In their last summer at camp, boys embark on the culminating experience of their time at Keewaydin: Verendrye, a 17-day canoe trip across La Verendrye Wildlife Reserve in Canada. In the following summer, campers have the option of completing a Wilderness trip, a 30-day canoe trek across northern Quebec. These trips were two of the most meaningful experiences of my life. With my camp, the primary community with which I engage with nature, I have witnessed and adopted numerous customs with respect to how I approach both the world around me and my community within it.

Much like other outdoors groups, Keewaydin staffmen encourage respect for, preservation of, and deference to the land. On trips, the language we use to talk about our experience reveals much about our relationship with nature. Recently, certain phrases have become a more prominent part of the Keewaydin lexicon: “Leave no trace” and “leave the campsite better than you found it” come to mind. I have no objection to the sentiments of these expressions. Indeed, they serve an increasingly important role in a global landscape torn apart by natural disasters and human pollution. The two phrases echo a common sentiment of today, which is that nature is something apart from, and threatened by, human civilization; therefore, we must go out of our way to protect it. 

However, the foundation of Keewaydin tripping is a distinctly more frank and intimate relationship with nature, one not defined by absolutes. On the Wilderness trip, we used several saplings to fashion poles that propelled our canoes upriver, sawed down standing dead trees for firewood and one young tree each night to craft our firepit, and blazed our trails with small hatchet marks in the bark of a handful of trees along our path. We can sustain this relationship with the land by virtue of the distance that separated us from the nearest trace of human civilization and the relative infrequency of our actions. Our trip went far enough north that we could drink from the water without purification. At points, we were hundreds of miles from the nearest road. And only two trips of this kind depart from Keewaydin each summer. So, whatever mark we did make on the land will likely fade by the time any trip, Keewaydin group or otherwise, happens down the same river or lake. 

This way of interacting with the land also preserves the way Keewaydin has gone about canoe tripping for more than a century. Keewaydin’s tripping style acknowledges a human's place as a small part of, rather than apart from, nature. Leveraging the natural landscape — sparsely, thoughtfully, deliberately — reaffirms humanity’s reliance on this world and our situation within it. Our ability to go on trips in the way we do is an immense pleasure, one that may not be feasible in the coming decades as our population grows and the swaths of untouched beauty like that of northern Canada recede. But, while it’s still possible, I hope to journey deep into the wilderness whenever I can, to again feel truly human. My sensation of unadulterated humanity on camping trips is wholly personal, and perhaps even paradoxical, given my isolation from civilization. However, the interdependence of a trip’s crew, as well as the independence of the canoer, makes me more fully cognizant of my place as part of a collective than anything I feel in the “real world.” If everyone were to, just once, partake in this sort of experience, I believe we all would have a much greater and more sincere investment in this planet we call home.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Michael Deschenes shares how his experiences at a hiking and canoeing camp in the wilderness shaped his outlook on nature.

We Are Part of Nature

In this issue of KidSpirit, writers and artists take a deep dive into the natural world and how it impacts our lives today. What constitutes nature? How can it connect us to others? How have we affected it with our actions?

Ode to the Oaks

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