Starting fires

On a cold day of misting rain, Tim’s job was to teach fire-making, using both flint and a magnesium striker, to three groups of children. I was impressed by his patience. Bella was the last to practice striking, and it took her a long time to make sparks. By the time she’d mastered the wrist-action, the char cloth was damp and wouldn’t catch. All the other children had left, but Tim got a fresh bit of char cloth and persevered until Bella was successful in striking sparks, seeing them catch, and then blowing her little clump of kindling and char cloth into a torch to light a fire. I think he deserves some kind of crown in heaven.

It was the Audubon Society’s Kids’ Festival, and they laid on some very imaginative activities. The children met raptors being rehabilitated or rescued; they made bird feeders out of pine cones with suet and seeds; they went on a scavenger hunt in the forest; and they made plaster casts of animal tracks. Some had their faces painted to look like birds, and there was an archery lesson for the older children.

I watched my irritation arise as a whiny little girl started screaming when a spark landed on her shoe and then refused to try making sparks again. Two other little girls got into a fight over who would get to strike sparks first. A loud show-off boy insisted on answering every question, not giving anyone else a chance to speak. A pair of older boys tried to frighten the falcons tethered to the arms of volunteers. I whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to the universe that I was not condemned to spend much of my work-life with children. 

P.S. I don't know why this picture has a thin black border around it. I didn't intend that.