A few weeks ago the pastor asked the children during the children's sermon: "Have you guys ever been fishing?"
The ducklings shook their heads no as the other children told of their favorite catches.
Again, no from the ducklings.
"Duchy children--you don't fish--you don't camp--what do you do?"
"We survive!" I interrupted.
Also, what we do is hike. And the way we hike the fact that we do survive is an accomplishment. Usually we go out in doubtful weather to a park with no maps and poorly-marked trails and hope we'll find our way back. So far we always have. So far no one has suffered a major injury on the trail. Sometimes we've had a fair amount of screaming before we return, but usually if DOB is along he has everyone engrossed in a tale of adventure that leads us onwards.
One of the local parks has a large area of the woods apparently devoted to pellet-gun wars, and some strapping fellows with a lot of time on their hands have engaged in the constructive activity of building acres and acres of fortresses and barricades out of fallen logs. This is naturally a favorite spot, although DOB has, for all but the first thirty seconds, regretted pointing out to the ducklings that they could collect the discarded plastic pellets.
On Thursday I took them to the really scary park--the one with bear warnings and trails that don't match the map--and, although we never quite knew where we were, we did not get lost and nobody screamed and nobody fell in a puddle. And we found some really cool bridges.