The handsome young men, showcased above, and I , set out on our bikes today. Our intent, to search the river for the elusive Salmon heading up stream to spawn. We have been at this for a few weeks yet, and are slowly becoming discouraged by the lack of salmon sightings.
Today was like the others, very little evidence of any salmon for the larger part of our journey. The boys forged on searching for an “abandoned campsite,” while in character as the “jungle searchers.” Each of us entranced by the fall day.
On the way back, beneath the bridge, we spotted a HUGE salmon. We cheered, in the kind of way you do when you suspect you are alone. A voice called to us, asking for details of the kind of fish we had seen. Across the river, stood a boy with a fishing rod. He shouted details and questions my way, it was tough hearing, due to the traffic above. I consulted the team about perhaps checking out what this boy was up to.
There were nerves, as meeting a stranger isn’t a favorite past time. After a few assurances, that I would do all the talking, we scrambled up the rock face to the bridge. We crossed the bridge and stepped underneath to find the boy. Without even an exchange of hellos or names, he launched in to a description of the fish in the river below. I was taken aback by the wealth of knowledge pouring from his mouth.
The jungle searchers, whispered questions, that I relayed. We heard about salmon, trout, spawning, fishing techniques and the like. ” I am here everyday fishing, ” the boy explained.
“Hmphf, ” I say, “you don’t go to school?” (I know the standard question, it just slipped out)
“Nope I homeschool.”
“We do to”
And back to the fishing. Oh but not before showing us his latest two catches, rather good sized trout. “You can have them,” he enthusiastically offered.
I consultant again with my travel companions. They are some hmms and a couple of haaass. And then two hardy, yeses! So I take off my jacket wrap up the fish and head home.
Now some of you readers, might be thinking this is the part of the story where we fry them up and enjoy a nice meal. However, we are radical in our unschooling life. We had to cut it open first. We had to find out what the blood looked like, how the skin felt, where the pooh game from, whether it was a boy or girl (the fish eggs gave it away), find the heart and so on and so on .
It was in my opinion a most perfect example of why I never dream of spending my time writing lessons plans .. in know could they compare to the lessons that present themselves when we are open to the world before us!