Searching for tadpoles in Arroyo Viejo Creek at the Oakland Zoo.

It Day #2 of Nature Play, a new Oakland Zoo ZooCamp program that I have been assigned to teach. I know all about “Nature Deficit Disorder” and “No Child Left Inside”. I have read “Last Child in the Woods” and even blogged about the issues, but now I find myself out in nature with 12 curious and excited children, and I have no idea what will happen.

Nature Play was created in response to childrens’ desire to experience true nature – to look up at trees, observe tadpoles and connect with wildlife in their own backyard. The idea behind Nature Play is to offer the campers supervised and loosely facilitated exploration outdoors that is self directed.

Parents were so game to give these simple pleasures to their children, this program sold out.

Now, here we are. Our afternoon agenda is creek time and fort building. It is a beautiful afternoon at Arroyo Viejo Creek, a small tributary that runs through the zoo grounds. Though there are tigers, lions and elephants close by, this is where the campers are most excited to be. I have given minimal direction: look, listen, smell and feel, and record something in your nature journal. They have nets, jars, binoculars and wildlife guides, and one hour.

Immediately the group swarms to their favorite spot that they discovered yesterday. It is near one of the outdoor classrooms and features a giant, ground-leaning willow tree to crawl under, two logs that rest across the creek to climb over and water loaded with tadpoles and water gliders. I watch and listen myself.

“There are 1000 water striders here! They are riding on top of each other.” “No, that is a shadow”. “I am crossing the log by scootching” “I will help you”. “I found a secret trail!” “I am putting this leaf in my journal”. “I can write with a rock.” “I heard a frog!” I am a frog!” “The sun makes me silly and happy.” “I see tadpoles!” “Let’s call this place Willow Cove.” “I don’t want to go home.”

A few things amazed me about this hour. One, they were never bored. They went on and on with their play and exploration in this small area with gusto the entire time. They were imaginative, inventive and stimulated. Two, they learned. They learned that frogs are quiet when they are noisy. They learned that they could balance better holding their arms out. They did not need my fascinating animal facts to gain knowledge. Three, they truly and intuitively cared about the habitat. They picked up a couple of pieces of garbage, told each other not to handle amphibians and put rocks back where they found them without being told. Four, and most interestingly, they got along fantastically. Earlier in the day there were a few squabbles over this or that, but out here, they helped each other, supported each other and shared the nets like pros. They seemed to be at peace.

A little later at Fort Building, the group divided into two as they followed two natural leaders and their fort visions. As we debriefed about the two forts, they came to the conclusion (themselves) that tomorrow they should build one fort with all the materials, then sit in it and tell stories about animals.

I saw it all with my own eyes. This nature stuff works. Now this explorer is going to sleep. I am exhausted!

Learning at the tidepools. Credit: Amy Gotliffe

This question comes up endlessly in the world of environmental education. How do you inspire a person to learn, care and then take action for the environment? As someone whose professional goal is to inspire earth stewardship, I often ask anyone who will answer this big question.

Many are active stewards because they formed a connection with nature during childhood. This bond is deep, instinctive and primal, and was merely coaxed out by a particular, yet often simple experience outdoors: playing in the woods, on the rocks, in the creek, in the garden, in the dirt, up the tree, with the roly polys, in the ditch, in the pond, in the vacant armory (ok that was me), etc. Somewhere deep inside, a door was opened to the potential to really care. This is why Nature Deficit Disorder is so disturbing, as we wonder if children growing up void of trees and ditches and ponds have forged the same bonds.

When a child's natural curiosity is nurtured by an adult, they will likely develop an even stronger connection. Some will have this head start, yet it is never too late.

So, how does a person then become an active steward?

One model is practiced by Roots & Shoots, the activism branch of the Jane Goodall Institute, and that is: Knowledge, Compassion and Action. All three experiences, in no particular order, can lead to a sustainable behavior change. Take caring for frogs as an example and consider three different people and paths to change:

• Sam is academically inquisitive about frogs and conservation, and is self-motivated to research the subject on the internet. He begs his parents to take him on a local frog conservation program and through this action develops a deep compassion for frogs.
• Stella read a non-fiction story about a particular pond that was suddenly quiet one season, after years of being a frog croaking Mecca. She feels compassion for this species and habitat and attends a lecture on the subject. Once in the know, she donates funds to a frog conservation project.
• Nik is neither interested nor compassionate about frogs, but finds himself on a service learning outing with his 9th grade class. There, he sees dead and floating frogs with his own eyes and collects frog eggs with his own hands. The experience inspires him to pay attention in class the next week and learn more about it, eventually leading him to feel greater connection and compassion.

With this model in mind, I suppose my job is to ensure that all three options are easily available to our visiting students and guests. So I encourage all you attend an adult lecture or ZooCamp program, take action with the Arroyo Viejo Creek Keepers, or feel compassion by staring through long eyelashes into the deep brown eyes of a camel… or frog.

You may listen to the "Nature Deficit" radio report online, as well as find additional links and resources. Also see Photos from the kids' "Camping at the Presidio" trip on flickr.com.

Gabriela Quirós is a Segment Producer for KQED-TV, and is the producer for this radio report.

latitude: 37.797, longitude: -121.638157