I Could've Been a Birch Tree - story

When I was a young lad, boys spent an abundance of time in Boy Scouts. Many of our dads had returned from WW 11 and sadly much of their energy had been zapped.

Thus we accepted the responsibility of looking after ourselves and ran loose like wild horses. It became manly to spend time in the woods and dare any wild beast to bother us.

The Scouting Movement was ideal for getting out, since most of us did not have cars, or cottages, and thankfully leaders involved in this Boy’s movement had these items to share. It was a treat to get out and hike, camp and be provided with all equipment and facilities to enjoy our youth through busy-boy activities.

I know it bothered our dads not to have us around on weekends, since our Scout Troop was constantly on the move. A group of us pals could not get enough of the bush, setting up camp, building campfires and laying outside in our sleeping bags at night staring at the stars as well as the magnificence of Northern Lights.

One day, during my twelfth year of life, dad pulled me aside. He said, with a twinkle in his eye, “Listen, you be careful. You’re spending so much time in the woods, you might turn into a tree.”

And my favourite one is Birch.

PS. As an aside, this story is a precious memory and dedicated to all those who enjoyed the adventure of woods, lakes and the sky where loons lamented; us kids growing up too quickly.

But I remained a child inside of an adult frame, as I continued to hike, camp, canoe and breathe in the scent of an outdoor life, in spite of my busy working world.

(c) Richard L. Provencher