“Our ancestors’ survival depended on being tuned into the wild world”
OPINION
A class of five-year-olds arrived on the scene, ready for a weekly dose of outdoor learning, and the relief was palpable – among adults and children alike – having crossed two busy roads and passed one startled dog and its owner. It felt like a minor miracle (to my shattered nerves at least) that the slow-moving meandering procession had made it with everyone present and correct.
The grassy meadow, still damp with dew and smelling sweet, was overlooked by a stand of ancient oaks and a mature hedgerow. All of it promised to be packed full of wildlife.
I was there to observe this budding ecological school, as well as offer any insights, but as it turns out, I would learn some unexpeted lessons, too. No sooner had the children cast off their tiny hi-vis vests, they were running around in beautiful chaos, but to my surprise they were quick to quieten and listen when asked to turn their attention to their outdoor classroom.
We waited expectantly in the stillness for the chatter of bird calls and song to gently fade into our awareness, but there was nothing but silence. I suggested that perhaps the birds had fallen silent as they were watching and listening to us, as much as we were looking out and listening for them. The birds might need to feel reassured that the children’s noisy arrival presented no real threat, before returning to the urgent business of early spring.
Far from being disappointed, the children seemed captivated by the thought of this ‘knowing presence’ around them and I felt the paradigm flip from one where we were lerning about nature, to one where we were learning from nature, as botanist and author Robin Wall Kimmerer puts it.
Nature always has plenty to teach us, but we have to pay attention and be willing to learn. For our ancestors, survival depended on being tuned into the wild world and interpreting its signals. Watching animals moving through the landscape, for example, provided valuable knowledge about the availability of food, water and shelter. But lessons extended far beyond meeting these basic needs. Birds, with their twitchy nature and habit of alarm-calling, were useful sentinels sounding an early warning of approaching danger. Similarly, changes in their flying behaviour were thought to provide advance notice of inclement weather.
Certainly, the wealth of anecdotal evidence of wild a
